On My Soapbox

Quarantine officers prepare to inspect

an arriving plane at Narita Airport

Believe it or not, I’m not going to write about dangerously crowded Tokyo trains, amazingly inefficient Japanese banks, or the fashionably dressed dogs in Setagaya. At least for the moment, I have a new soapbox from which to complain.

It all started in April with a new outbreak of swine flu, now known as H1N1. Increasingly frightening reports in The Daily Yoimuri newspaper told us this potentially fatal flu strain was spreading wildly in Mexico and showing up in the United States, Canada, and elsewhere. Health-conscious Japan suddenly was on top alert. The Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries instructed all animal quarantine offices to make sure pigs being imported weren’t infected, inciting a feeling of panic throughout the country. Perhaps it was no longer safe to eat pork of any kind! Things calmed somewhat when the Agriculture Minister assured the nation that no one would catch swine flu from eating pork. Yet people were dying in Mexico. Surely Japan was going to be next.

As a result, procedures were drawn up whereby all airplanes coming in from Mexico, the United States, and Canada would be inspected by quarantine officers before any passengers would be allowed to deplane. Some 500 rooms were reserved in hotels around Narita Airport where people could be quarantined for 10 days if they were thought to have swine flu. Despite these and other preparations, it was a few days before Narita Airport detected its first suspected case on April 30. This unfortunate woman was escorted from the airplane with a cloth over her head and a quarantine officer on either side of her as if she were being led to her execution! However, much to the dismay of the Japanese press, her flu turned out to be only a common strain. The hotel rooms remained unoccupied.

Finally, the diligence of the press was rewarded on May 8 when three cases were confirmed. Not only were these individuals quarantined, but people seated anywhere in their vicinity also were “detained.” Large, bold headlines screamed out the long-awaited news and accompanying reports sounded almost jubilant. Japan, too, had the swine flu! It was as if the nation had won a long-awaited prize! Suddenly cold and flu masks were selling out everywhere.

Then, on May 16, the first domestic case was confirmed in Kobe. All pandemonium broke out since the infected high school student had not traveled abroad to bring the flu back to Japan with him. By May 18, 130 cases had been discovered in the area. All schools in Kobe, Osaka, and their respective prefectures were closed, and it was reported that people were stockpiling food and holing up in their homes as if the plague had infected central Japan.

So? You may be wondering what soapbox I’m standing atop and why I’m writing about Japan’s response to the swine flu. Bernie has said it time and time again: Japan loves a crisis—so much so, in fact, that if there isn’t one, they’ll create one if they can. Tune in next time for the continuation of this story. It begins for us on May 16, the day we left Japan for a quick trip to the United States. For now, suffice it to say that we should have had better sense than to travel at the height of the swine flu scare.

Validation

Sightseeing with friends at the Imperial Palace

Our assignment was to help with registration for the annual Charity Runathon for Tokyo English Life Line (TELL). The NPO, operating for more than 30 years, provides both telephone and face-to-face counseling for Japan’s foreign community. TELL’s services provide vital help for individuals needing support as they struggle with mental health issues, cross-cultural stresses, marital or health crises, thoughts of suicide, child rearing concerns, unfair labor practices, and more.

Money in the bank certainly is not what validates a not-for-profit organization like TELL. But it may well be the indicator of how long such a service can operate, especially in these economically challenging days. Thus the Charity Runathon is an important fund-raising effort that helps TELL stay afloat. Knowing this, we were grateful for every man, woman, and child—more than 1,000 strong—who turned out on that beautiful Saturday morning to walk 5 kilometers or to run in the 5 or 10 kilometer races.

Following registration, and after the three races around the Imperial Palace grounds were off to a good start, Bernie and I ambled over to the start-finish line. With our assigned tasks finished, we joined a small group of people who were waiting for the first 5K runners to appear. As they came into view, we all spontaneously began clapping and cheering them over the finish line. Soon we and others were handing out bottles of water and Aquarius as we congratulated the runners and those who would come in behind them. With every bottle we passed to the parched runners, we also thanked them for their participation in the Runathon. TELL would be able to continue its valuable work because of them. Amazingly, some participants were as young as five years old!

That morning Bernie and I had to awaken early on a national holiday in order to arrive at the Imperial Palace on time. Frankly, we’d wondered why we’d been so foolish as to volunteer to give up a day when we could have slept in—something we both needed. But we felt entirely different on the return train home. We were energized as we’d not been in a long time, even without the extra sleep we craved. What was the difference? It was the joy we received at the finish line when we, without planning to do so, became encouragers. In the end, we ourselves were encouraged and uplifted.

Contemplating the experience, I recalled a YouTube video my brother was kind enough to send me recently (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cbk980jV7Ao). Entitled “Validation,” this heartwarming vignette vividly portrays why the world would be a better place if people practiced the art of validating and encouraging others. A few simple words and a smile can make a huge difference. It’s true. I experienced it at the finish line of the Runathon. I’m still glowing one week later.

When the News Isn't Good

My grandson, who always helps me smile

Cancer. That was the word I heard from the respiratory doctor two weeks before the urologist asked, “May I speak straight?” When we gave permission, he bluntly declared, “You have kidney cancer.” A few minutes later after we’d agreed on laparoscopic surgery to remove the kidney, he continued—just as bluntly—“Good. You have so much belly fat, I’d have trouble cutting through it all if you chose open surgery!” (Yes, I laughed, but I shot daggers at him with my eyes. It was okay for him to be straight about my cancer, but definitely not about my fat, belly or otherwise.)

After the news, we prayed we’d be in the 10% of people who find out that, contrary to a doctor’s preliminary diagnosis by sight, the tumor isn’t cancerous. But I was in the other 90%.

The next step was the pathology. For the next two weeks, we prayed—along with family and loved ones around the world—that the pathology report would not show a “bad” cancer. (Is there such a thing as a good cancer?) But on April 22, the doctor announced the unwelcome news: although I was now cancer free, as far as he could tell, the cancer that had been removed was a cancer with high rates of metastasis. “I wish we’d caught it sooner,” Dr. Morita said with regret in his voice. There was no joking around in this visit, no talk of belly fat, just the facts. It was as if the wind had been knocked out of his sails.

But there was good news, too. My blood levels were nearly perfect, surprising the doctor greatly. Additionally, my energy level was the best it had been in months, the incision was nearly completely healed, and I was the picture of health, Dr. Morita commented—except that a highly metastic cancer had been taken from me.

My next step is a combination PET/CT scan that will be done here in Tokyo on May 8. Bernie and I will then travel to the States carrying those films, a CD-Rom of all the test results from everything that has been done so far, and even the microscope slides from the pathology, on loan from the hospital here. I am absolutely amazed at the cooperation we’ve received in helping us seek a second opinion (in English—everything so far has been in Japanese). Assuming there is no metastasis at this time, we will return to Japan and I will begin a lifetime monitoring/maintenance program. However, if there are signs that cancer has found a new home in my body, I’ll begin drug therapy in Indiana with the goal of transferring my regimen back to Japan as soon as possible. With that treatment completed, I will enter a maintenance program here.

Obviously, where we are today in thinking and planning is not where I wanted to be when I wrote the last blog. So what do you do when the news isn’t good? This question popped into my mind as I lay in bed two nights after G-3 first became part of a new vocabulary of medical words I never knew before. How grateful I am for the answer that came instantaneously in the form of the title of the thirteenth book of international stories I complied and edited just last year: Yet, I Will Rejoice.

The Old Testament prophet Habakkuk declared, “Though the fig tree does not bud and there are not grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior” (Habakkuk 3:17-18, emphasis added).

Contemplating Habakkuk’s words, I realize that life’s circumstances change daily. Sometimes this means that the news we receive isn’t what we’d hoped for—sometimes it is even downright bad. But bad news doesn’t change God. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8) and he has promised never to leave me or forsake me (Hebrews 13:5). Therefore, I will rejoice! Even when the news isn't good.

Telltale Signs

After surgery, visiting a lovely Japanese park with my sister--

following doctor's orders for a daily walk

The coughing started sometime last September. Not that it was any big deal. When I talked with the doctor about it as a precautionary measure in October, I could only estimate when it began. “It’s probably allergies,” he responded easily after listening to my lungs, looking in my throat and ears, and noting that Indiana was in the vice-like grip of an especially horrible season for allergy sufferers. Since Bernie and I were headed out to visit churches in Colorado and Oregon, he added, “It’ll probably clear up when you get out of Indiana.”

Only it didn’t. As we looked at returning to Japan in November, following our three-month home assignment, I visited the doctor again. Although the doctor still was not concerned about the coughing, he agreed that treating me more aggressively could eliminate the increasingly aggravating cough and at least ease my mind. He prescribed a heavy-duty cough syrup that brought on a spasm of uncontrolled coughing when I saw the price, gave me an inhaler to sample in case this was asthma related, and ordered an x-ray of my lungs. I was satisfied and happy when the x-ray was clear, and I returned to Japan confident that everything was fine, even though both the syrup and the inhaler did nothing to alleviate my coughing.

In fact, the bouts of coughing were becoming more frequent. In December, they were joined by heaviness in my chest—at times, pain—when I exerted myself to walk up a hill. Gradually, my energy began to flag as well until the January day I began crying as I spoke with my father on the telephone. “Dad, I’m just so tired,” I admitted to him. “I can’t seem to do anything without resting, and I don’t have time for these daily naps and this lack of energy. I’ve got two book deadlines on me, and I’ve just got to keep going.”

What would a girl do without her father—even a girl as old as I am? I’ve been married 33 years to a wonderful, loving, and caring husband, have been blessed with two children of my own, and love to “talk” with my 15-month-old grandson nearly daily via Skype. But at that moment, it was my dad who picked me up, brushed away my tears, prayed for me, and comforted me as all loving daddies do when their little girls trip and fall down. Never mind that he was half a world away in the United States.

But still the coughing didn’t stop. Finally, when the books were off to the publisher, I began a month of weekly visits to a respiratory doctor. Gradually, using x-rays, strong antibiotics, and bronchial patches, he eliminated all the usual: pneumonia, bronchitis, whopping cough (making a resurgence here), and asthma. Yet the coughing continued. In fact, it was getting worse even as my energy was dangerously low. Blood work showed anemia and a highly elevated CRP (C reactive protein, whatever that is). Something was definitely wrong, but all we could see were telltale signs. Two weeks before a sonogram of my left kidney finally brought the diagnosis, Dr. Yamamoto told me carefully, “I think we are dealing with something very difficult.” In Japan, where the word cancer can hardly be whispered for the impact it carries, I realized immediately what he was suggesting: there was a strong possibility that we were dealing with the dreaded disease.

Today, two weeks after my hospitalization, I am at home resting, less one kidney, and awaiting the pathology report in three days. Amazingly, my coughing ceased the day after the surgery (and maybe even sooner, but I don’t remember much about my recovery time in ICU); I no longer pant when walking up the slight inclines Tokyoites call hills (there’s a reason this area is referred to as the Kanto Plains); and my energy level is returning (hence the fact that I’m at the computer to begin to unravel some of the jumbled and even incoherent thoughts that crowd my head).

Although the untangling of my mind and heart is going to take a while, I’ve already exceeded my self-imposed one-page blog limit. So for today, I’ll let it go at this: I am overflowing with gratitude for telltale signs that led me to a good doctor and a good hospital and for the amazing care that I received there. But most of all, I have been buoyed on the wings of the love of friends and family—and especially the family of God—from all over the world. I am speechless with wonder for I know I have done nothing to deserve this outpouring of love. In fact, as the emotions well up in my heart, I realize I have seen the invisible God. His name is Love (1 John 4:8).

But Take Heart!

Bernie presents a diploma to a graduating Tamagawa Seigakuin student

Words of encouragement
“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).

Some of you have read our recent electronic “Call to Prayer” for Eriko and Wangyal. Others of you have received e-mails or letters regarding some instances of spiritual warfare confronting us and Tarumi Church. In more private e-mails, some of you are aware of some health difficulties Cheryl has been facing since last fall (a nagging cough and, of late, a lack of energy). It’s not difficult to figure out that these words of encouragement have meant much to us over the past few months.

They are such powerful words and speak to every difficult situation. Therefore, Bernie recently chose “But Take Heart!” as the theme for Tamagawa Seigakuin as it begins its new school year in April. We pray that these words of encouragement will also speak to you in your own situation. Among our prayer partners, we are aware of supporting churches facing great financial difficulties; of pastoral searches that seem to yield no results; of significant health concerns; of prayers that have been voiced for years but have yet to be answered; of deep discouragement and great tiredness; and more. Please know that we are praying for you, even as you pray for us.

How to pray specifically
In addition to the prayer concerns we have shared recently, especially the “Immediate and Continuing Prayer Concerns” of November, we would ask you to pray about these:

►Resumption of small study group—Because of some all-consuming writing projects, Cheryl two years ago stopped leading a study group for Japanese Christian women. Although they continued meeting for a little while, the group eventually decided to take a break until Cheryl could rejoin them. On February 24, we will begin our study of Philip Yancey’s book, Prayer: Does It Make Any Difference? Please pray for this group and its nearly weekly Tuesday meeting. We are all seeking a deepening walk with the Lord.

►Tamagawa Seigakuin high school graduation—On March 16, Bernie will have the privilege of speaking before 177 graduating seniors, their parents, faculty, staff, current second year high schoolers (so they’ll know what to expect when they graduate next year), and others at the 59th graduation exercises of this Christian mission school where he serves as headmaster. Needless to say, this is a significant opportunity to share the gospel and to challenge the graduates to remember what they’ve learned during their Tama Sei careers. Please pray that the Lord will empower him with words that are truly the “Bread of Life.”

►Spring staff retreat—Our missionary staff in Japan will gather in the mountains March 24-26 for our annual retreat. We’ll do a little business, but mostly our time together is for renewal. Pray that we will indeed be refreshed as we enjoy this time, despite the fact that we have no special leader this year.

►Missionary staffing needs—For whatever reason(s), it seems that recruiting for missionaries is an increasingly difficult task. We are so grateful to Riverchase Community Church in Birmingham, Alabama, for releasing their children’s pastor, Christy Snowden Van Dam, and her family to come to Tokyo for ten weeks from January into March in order to help fill a special assignment missionary (SAM) position with several pre-schools and one of our congregations. (Christy and Terence formerly were SAMs in this very position, so it has been a kind of homecoming for them to return, along with their three sons: Willem, Tai, and Xavier.) But the family returns to Alabama on March 22, after which we have no one to fill this long-standing SAM position. Needless to say, there is great concern and discouragement on this side of the Pacific Ocean. Please pray with us that the Lord will provide the right individual at the right time (which, from our perspective, is NOW) to serve this two-year term in Tokyo.

Answers to prayer
Thank you for praying for Cheryl in her writing assignments. Currently, Into All the World: A Century of Church of God Missions is in the final production stages before going to press. This 500-page volume that combines a revised reprinting of Lester Crose’s Passport for a Reformation with three chapters, many appendices, and other materials gathered and/or written by Cheryl and her father, Donald Johnson, will be off the press by North American Convention in June. Additionally, we’re happy to report that Cheryl did make her deadline for River of Delights, the 2009 international testimonies book—the 14th in this series of books that she has written. God is so good!