On a Train a Few Days before Christmas

One of our favorite pastimes in Japan (indeed, in much of Asia) is reading t-shirt messages, advertising slogans, menus, and whatever else we see written in English. Here are some samples that have amused us:

*Looking for a new menu for Christmas? How about trying one of these: harb chicken salad, casserole of cow’s intestines, or cram chowder?

*Considering a new destination during the holidays? “Fry me to the moon” in a “lent a car” might be an option.

*Still need to buy one last Christmas gift? What about rice crackers (osenbi, in Japanese) —if you can figure out this advertising description: “A rice cracker of the soy sauce taste that percentage let taste soak on purpose.” Get one for 250 yen (about $2.75) or a whole bag, a real bargain, for 500 yen ($5.50).

The other day I was making fun of yet another English gaffe—this one on a Christmas card we’d received: Be a Merry and Happy Christmas—when Bernie commented, “I rather like that mistake.” Hearing my eyebrows raise, he answered my unspoken question. “More than having a merry Christmas, wouldn’t it be great to be a merry Christmas for someone else?” he asked. The more I thought about it, the more I agreed. Yes, I thought, I would like to be a merry Christmas.

But I’d certainly failed the day before on an impossibly packed commuter train. I was first in line to board when the double doors of the just-arrived train opened. Normally at Jiyugaoka Station, after a stream of people explodes out of each car, there is space for those waiting on the platform to board. But it was different that day. After all the riders wanting to exit had, there was absolutely no open space. Where in the world had they just been riding? The inside of the car appeared no different, although a whole throng of people had just been propelled by me like human cannonballs.

Since capacity limits on Tokyo commuter trains seem to be decided by how many people can force their way onto a given train rather than by any safety considerations, those of us waiting on the platform accepted the challenge of finding the invisible space inside the packed cars. Helped by the surge behind me, I made it in. So did all those behind me, although I can’t tell you how this miracle occurred. All I know is that I ended up inside, smashed in on all sides, and standing on someone else’s feet. There was no free floor space to be found anywhere. As crushed as we all were, I doubt the unfortunate host (or hosts) to my feet even noticed, but I was certainly uncomfortable. (Okay, I wouldn’t have been comfortable even if my feet had found the floor.) All in all, as I glared at the woman whose bag was poking me painfully in the scar on my left side, I was in no mood to be a merry Christmas to her or to anyone else. All I wanted was to escape, and I honestly didn’t care who I might have to insult or injure along the way to freedom.

A merry Christmas? There was nothing merry about morning—for myself or anyone else. While I couldn’t have changed the train conditions, I could have put a smile on my face and adjusted my attitude. After all, the meaning of this season cannot be tarnished or changed, no matter what. Immanuel—God with us—even on a crowded commuter train.

A Christmas Prayer

Coco and a sleepy Little Ben

It’s not going to be long before it takes a forklift to carry my “to do” list: Christmas cards to address, special December dinners to prepare, gifts to buy and wrap, end-of-the-year reports to write, and more. And I’ve not even mentioned the normal activities that routinely crowd the schedule—things like sermon preparation, meetings, writing assignments and correspondence, and the day-to-day tasks that keep the house somewhat organized, clean clothes in the dressers, and food on the table.

As much as I try, I’m just not keeping up, although my schedule is considerably reduced this year. One big reason for the lag is a soon-to-be-two-year-old named Benjamin, our grandson. He and his mother arrived at our house on December 3. Need I say more?

Every time I sit down at the computer, my little shadow comes calling. “Coco, book,” he says, pulling on my hand and meaning, “Read to me, Coco” (his name for me). Or, “Coco, blocks.” Translated, “Let’s play with the blocks together.” Or, “Coco, kick soccer ball.” Or any number of other invitations—actually quite persistent summons to spend time with him. My heart melts and I’m completely defenseless, pressing work or not. After all, how long will this little boy actually want to spend time with his Coco? And how many chances will his Coco have to devote herself to him? I realize that if I miss these opportunities with Little Ben, I am never guaranteed of others to come in the future. It’s now or, perhaps, never. And so I put away my tasks and get down on the floor with Benjamin, loving every minute that we have to share together.

I’m reminded of a book of daily meditations I’m reading this Advent and Christmas season. Of the 13 or so I’ve read to date, “To Be a Virgin,” by Loretta Ross-Gotta, has been the most thought-provoking. Bernie and I will soon celebrate Christmas with our son, daughter, grandson, and other family members. We’ll also celebrate our thirty-fourth wedding on January 10. How can I be a virgin, as the author suggests we must all be—men and women included—if we will truly prepare our hearts for Christmas?

Ross-Gotta writes, “The intensity and strain that many of us bring to Christmas must suggest to some onlookers that, on the whole, Christians do not seem to have gotten the point of [Christmas]. Probably few of us have the faith or the nerve to tamper with hallowed Christmas traditions on a large scale, or with our other holiday celebrations. But a small experiment might prove interesting. What if, instead of doing something, we were to be something special? Be a womb. Be a dwelling for God. Be surprised.”

The Virgin Mary made herself available to God for his purposes (to be the mother of God’s Son) when she responded to the angel, “I am the Lord’s servant. May it be to me as you have said” (Luke 1:38). In her case, she literally was a womb for God. In my case, I can be that virgin in another way—by putting away my “to do” list and offering myself to God for what he wants to do in and through me not only in this season, but also during all 365 days of the year to come.

Just as my heart melts whenever my grandson, in his irresistible way, invites me to play, may it also respond passionately whenever God comes, as he did to Mary, and declares to me, “I need you.” May I never hesitate to obey from a heart of love for his gift of Jesus: babe in a manger, Savior on a cross, and the way to eternal life forever with the Father.

Brimming with Hope

Our staff taking a break from the annual fall meeting

Bernie blesses a little girl at the fall children's blessing service.

A word from the Lord
“. . . Houses, fields and vineyards will again be bought in this land” (Jeremiah 32: 15, NIV).

Thank you for your prayers for our annual fall missionary staff meeting on November 23. When we gathered at the Bartons’ apartment from three different areas of Japan, most of us were nursing colds, tiredness, and perhaps even discouragement. But as the photo shows, our spirits were truly restored through laughter, fellowship, heartfelt sharing, and prayer (not to mention eating at Sizzler’s). We were especially encouraged as Don Deena Johnson led us in considering a word from the Lord in Jeremiah—a brimming-with-hope reminder that if we respond to God in absolute obedience, even when his words don’t make sense, we can live in confidence that God will make all things new. It was exactly the reminder we needed.

Shichi-go-san
November is the month Japanese celebrate children, especially those who are 7 (shichi), 5 (go), and 3 (san) years old. Traditionally, parents dress their 7-, 5-, and 3-year-olds in new (and very expensive) clothes—for girls, often their first kimonos—and take them to a Shinto shrine to be blessed by a priest. The Japanese church has adapted this custom, which we at Tamagawa Church observed on November 15. What a joy it was to welcome 24 children, ranging in age from infants to upper elementary school, to our “kodomo no shukufukushiki” (children’s blessing service). Many of them were accompanied by their parents, who do not normally attend church, but who watched proudly as they took the offering, sang special songs, and recited Bible verses. One little boy even crawled under the pews, getting several rows away from his parents before they realized it. That wasn’t a scripted part of the program, but it was enjoyed anyhow.

As pastor of Tamagawa Church, Bernie had a message geared for the children and words of blessing for each one individually. Please pray that seeds planted in the children’s hearts during this special service will bear fruit one day. Pray also that we may cultivate good relationships with their parents that will bring them to Christ too.

Looking forward
We’re eagerly anticipating the arrival of family in December: Benjamin (from Guam); Stephanie, Donald, and Little Ben (from Central Asia); and Cheryl’s parents, Don and Betty Jo Johnson (from the USA). We’ll celebrate a family Christmas on December 28, following many Tamagawa Seigakuin and church-related activities throughout the month, including: a Christmas celebration for Tama Sei alumni on December 5; a baptismal service at Tamagawa Church on December 20; and a church Christmas Eve candle service. Pray that these celebrations will result in many life-changing decisions.

Following Christmas, we’re also looking forward to the birth of our second grandchild—our first granddaughter—here in Tokyo. Please pray for continuing good health for Stephanie and the baby and a safe delivery around January 10.

Answers to prayer
Thank you for your continued prayers for Cheryl. Praise the Lord that her trip to the States was successful. She returned to Japan on November 7 with her second round of medicine and with the doctor’s agreement to take her as a patient during our upcoming home assignment (late May-late August 2010). Currently she is midway through the second round of medicine and experiencing only relatively mild side effects (mouth sores). We’re grateful that blood tests seem to indicate that the cancer is responding to the medication as hoped. Pray that this will be confirmed by CT scan on December 8 so that Cheryl can continue taking this medicine—one of only two options for treatment in Japan. As of yet, we do not have a long-term solution to the high cost of the medicine, but God continues showing us his faithfulness, one step by one step. For this we rejoice, even as thank God for you and for the wonderful meaning of this season: Immanuel, God with us.

Accusations

Accusations. Over our 30-plus years in Japan, I’ve heard Christians and Christianity accused of many things. Years ago in Saga, in the late 1970s, an Irishman stormed out of an English speech contest in which we’d been invited to share because Bernie was telling of his faith in Jesus Christ. Never mind that he’d obtained permission beforehand from the contest organizers. Never mind that the Irishman was a judge and that his angry outburst and sudden departure left everyone shocked and embarrassed. His accusation was that Bernie didn’t respect Japanese culture because he was trying to import his own culture—Christianity—into this Buddhist and Shinto nation.

It was a sentiment repeated by some Brits we met while on a day hike in the Swiss Alps a few years later. “Why don’t you just appreciate the Japanese for who they are?” they asked, a little more politely than the Irishman had spoken. “Why do you think you have the right to force change on them?” Needless to say, we were stunned by these encounters with fellow westerners.

But we’ve also heard Japanese accusations. “Katai, kusai, kurai.” Inflexible, smelly, dark—not a few Japanese have used these adjectives to describe Christians. In other words, Christians are too serious, no fun, and they make people around them feel uncomfortable. Often times, Jesus’ words, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one goes to the Father except through me,” are cited as exemplifying an attitude that goes against one of the most valued Japanese character traits—not making waves so that you fit in at all costs. When one believes and follows Jesus’ teachings anyway, however politely, Japanese (and perhaps others as well) often feel uncomfortable.

Not usually—being a very polite people—but sometimes they even lash out. This was evident in recent comments by Katsuya Okada, the number two man in command of the ruling Democratic Party of Japan (DPJ). I have no idea who’d stepped on his toes, but something must have happened for him to accuse Christians of being self-righteous. In his comments, reported in the news after Okada visited a Buddhist temple, he said Buddhism was infinitely better than Christianity, and even Islam was preferable. (Interestingly, no one accused him in return of showing a lack of wisdom in trumpeting his opinion when he is such a public figure, but that’s a tangent I won’t pursue for now.)

Another newspaper article I read recently also was full of accusations, although surprisingly, they brought a smile to my face. Coming out of Breast Cancer Awareness Month (October), the article accused women who’ve become involved in pink ribbon campaigns of being too cheerful! The writer groused that Christians wearing pink ribbons, pretending that they can overcome cancer with positive attitudes, are sickening and do a disservice to people who are suffering from the disease. I don’t know the history of the pink ribbon campaign—was it launched by a Christian, thereby inviting this attack? But in a world of grumpy, stressed people (especially with global economics being what they are), I for one appreciate those who are cheerful!

I can think of many accusations that have stung—like the words of India’s king of non-violent resistance, Mahatma Gandhi. A regular Bible reader, the diminutive Hindu once said that while he respected Jesus Christ and his teachings, he could never become a Christian. Why? Because so many Christians do not live by the teachings of the one they claim to follow, he explained. Ouch! We Christians ought to consider his accusation very carefully and personally.

But to be accused of being too cheerful? If that is the worst this particular journalist can sling at Christians . . . . Well, I hope one day I’ll face this accusation. I’ll respond without hesitation from the witness chair, “Guilty as charged.” And I trust that the broad smile on my face will be all the evidence required to convict me.

Thoughts at Thanksgiving

My birth family, for whom I give thanks:

(front from left) John, Cheryl, Don Deena

and our parents, Donald and Betty Jo

Not that we celebrate Thanksgiving in Japan—at least not the variety that remembers the Pilgrims and Indians while eating turkey and all the trimmings topped off with pumpkin pie and football games. Japan’s celebration is November 23, a national holiday called Labor Thanksgiving Day. In this time of global recession where the national unemployment rate in America has now topped 10% (Japan’s rate as of September was 5.3%), having work and being grateful to those whose labor supports and makes life easier for us is definitely something to celebrate.

But today I’m thinking less of work and more of sacrifice. At this holiday season when—at least for Americans—gathering with family is tradition (a tradition Japanese follow more at New Years), I’m remembering a colleague who has given up his family. Rather, I should say his family has given him up. Kicked him out. Disowned him. Disavowed ever giving birth to him. I can’t imagine it, but it happens with frightening regularity in countries where Christians are persecuted for the crime of following Christ as Lord of their lives. (There are many such countries in Asia, including China, Indonesia, Bhutan, India, and North Korea.)

Here’s what our colleague wrote:

“Today I am going to share with you about my very sad news. Last month, my family called me and said that if I do not go back to the monastery, they will never accept me as their family member. Not only that, but my parents said to me strongly, ‘This is the time to say good-bye. Don’t think that you have us here as your family and we also won't think that you are there as our son.’ This means they have totally rejected me. When I heard these things from them, I [was so troubled in my spirit]. But I believe God has a purpose for this and someday he will give me peace in my heart.

“Of course it is very painful for me to think about [my parents’ words], but I cannot do anything except pray. You know already how many years I have been suffering, but there is no end. I think God still wants me to suffer more . . . . It is very difficult to handle these kinds of situations, but I am still hoping that God will help lessen my burden.

“I am writing this letter to you with tears because I [must] make decisions for my future [while I am feeling like this]. Please pray for me to get more wisdom from God and also pray for me to have my own family—my future life partner.”

These are the words of someone who has sacrificed everything—family, country, personal safety, livelihood, and freedom—everything except his faith in Christ. Unfalteringly, he holds onto Jesus as tightly as a drowning man desperately clutches a life preserver to his chest while stormy waves crash over his head.

At this special season of the year, I am thankful for my family, always supporting and praying for me, always believing in me, and always encouraging me. But I also give thanks for this exemplary young man whose faith challenges me to withhold nothing from God. After all, it was he who first modeled sacrifice when he gave Jesus, his only son, to ransom my life.