Emma. I met her poolside, overlooking the beautiful ocean of Mexico’s Cozumel resort island where we were vacationing. We were unlikely conversation partners: she, in her mid-twenties, on her honeymoon, and holding a can of beer in her right hand while occasionally drawing in from the cigarette in her left; me, enjoying the solitude and quiet of the sinking sun whose pink, red, and orange hues were gradually transforming the western sky into an exquisite palette of breathtaking beauty.
Actually, I wasn’t in the mood for talking with anyone, especially one so obviously “different” from myself. Only a short time earlier, I’d given into the tears that had threatened all day. It was the last day of our vacation, but more than that, it was only one week before we were to return to Japan. (It’s always hard to say good-bye, no matter how many times we do it since returning to Tokyo means facing a lifestyle and locality I’ve never yet in seven years grown to appreciate. The transition never comes easily.)
I’d been ignoring the reality of the passing days and what was coming, but with only a week remaining, I couldn’t pretend time didn’t matter any longer. So the tears had come, first only a couple escaping down my cheeks, and then suddenly a torrent was shaking my shoulders. Bernie sat with me on the couch, delaying his snorkeling to stay with me until the flood subsided. Shortly, I made my way outside to be comforted by the approaching sunset.
Alone and drinking in the peacefulness of the landscape, I was reminding myself to hold it close to my heart so that I will be able to conjure up the comforting memory when I feel irritated by 27 million people soon crowding me unmercifully in Tokyo. And here came Emma.
“Buenas noches,” she greeted me cheerfully. I smiled and responded, “Hi,” in English, signaling that I wasn’t Mexican and couldn’t converse with her in Spanish. Apparently she couldn’t have gone much further herself because she breathed a sigh of relief and immediately switched into English. Sitting down on the edge of the elevated pool area, she struck up a conversation. One topic led to another and before long I was answering an oft-repeated question when someone discovers we’ve lived in Japan for 30-plus years.
“Wow! That’s a long time,” Emma marveled at our tenure, telling me that she was only 26 years old herself. “You must have been really young when you went. Wasn’t that scary?”
“When you’re young, you never imagine there’s something you can’t do,” I replied with a laugh, even as a voice inside told me not to miss this opportunity to share the real reason we went to Japan. It wasn’t just that we were young—I was 21 and Bernie 22—and looking for adventure; the main reason was God’s call upon our lives.
“Actually, we’re Christian missionaries,” I told Emma. “That’s why we went to Japan and that’s why we’ve stayed so long.”
As I expected, there was a momentary pause in the conversation as if Emma was wondering what she’d gotten herself into and evaluating whether she wanted to go any further. To my surprise, she proceeded to tell me that she is an agnostic who wonders whether atheists just might be right about the non-existence of God. Nevertheless, she is very curious about religion and has her own repertoire of religious experiences, including infant baptism in the Lutheran church and rebaptism in a Pentecostal church as a teenager.
What in the world can I say that will make any difference to Emma? I prayed silently as we conversed. In the end, I shared with my new friend that knowing God is not about religion, but about relationship. I urged her to continue keeping her ears open because God so desires an intimate relationship that he is pursing her, even through our talk. I also thanked her for our conversation after she thanked me for not judging her.
“It was a gift to me,” I assured her. Noting the quizzical expression on her face, I added, “It’s been a tough day, but the God I believe in and trust just used you to encourage me.”
Whether or not Emma can understand, I have no doubt that this was not a chance encounter. Through a confused agnostic, God reminded me of his desire to use me as his hands, feet, listening ears, and heart—even in Mexico. And most especially in Japan.
