10-26-2008
Sunday Night Family Restaurant Fun
A sequel to “Japanese Faces.”
Tonight, exactly a week after my frightful Gusto experience (please scroll down and read my last story before you read this one), I once again decided to drop my foreign face into one of Rural Japan's many family restaurants. I wanted to give the Zentsuji Gusto some time to hire and train some new staff after my last visit, so I bypassed it tonight and went out of the way to stop at the local Tadotsu branch of Joyfull (yes, there are two l's in the Joyfull restaurant). It's a restaurant of comparable menu and quality, only Joyfull is a little cheaper for most things, the drink bar is a mere shadow of Gusto's, and I'm not on their blacklist. I was in the mood for hamburg (Here's a Japanese word for you: hanbaaga), and Joyfull is a good place for it. Japanese Hamburg is bunless, like a small meat-loaf about the size of a thick hamburger pattie. Often, it is served with a sweet, onion sauce, and it serves as a cheap filler for western food when you're feeling beef-deprived.
Now, Japanese hamburg is different from an American hamburger, which is more like Japanese burger (another Japanese word for you: baagaa). But I wasn't in the for boogers or burgers, rather for hamberg. Upon ordering, I found that my Japanese had much improved, because ordering in a restaurant no longer holds me in terror. The only part I'm still not sure about is the question “yoroshii desuka?” It either means “Can I get you anything else” or “Is everything OK?” The problem with this is that I never know if I'm supposed to answer yes, no, “I'm sorry,” or “domo arigato gozaimasu.” Usually I mutter “hai,” (yes) in a low enough voice that the server goes away after giving me my food, which is what I want in the first place.
It was an interesting evening, because it took them about three times as long as usual to bring out my food. In the high-class world of Japanese customer service, this is a cardinal sin. However, they delivered my hot-iron plate (set in a wooden holder) in picture-perfect formation: two hamburgs (one with cheese and tomatoes, one with a pepper-onion sauce), two potato chunks, four green beans, and a handful-size pile of corn. Oh, and a separate plate with rice on it. Happily, I finally began to feast.
BUT NO. There was a problem. As I began to eat my pepper-oniony hamburg, I found that in the middle, it was still very pink. As I munched on my cheesy-tomato hamburg and my four green beans, I pondered if it would be worth it to tell the server and finally rung the pager to call him over. A lady come, and when I muttered something about a little raw, she instantly began apologizing and took my hamburg plate back to the kitchen, ignoring my protests that "well, the other one is OK..."
When she got back to the kitchen, I heard her say "kotchi mo" or "this one, too." As I sat there, I pondered Japanese customer service and realized that they would probably make me a whole plate, which would take time. I really wanted to eat the rest of my food, but they'd taken everything except my plate of rice, which I continued to munch on (but rice by itself doesn't have much flavor, and I wanted to save it for the return of dinner).
When the server returned, apologizing, with my meal, sure enough, there was a brand new meal: two hamburgs, two potato chunks, a handful-sized pile of corn, and four green beans, all served on a hot iron plate set in a wooden holder. To top it off, they gave me a new plate of rice, even when I tried to say that I already had one (they snatched the old plate like some kind of radioactive waste).
So, there I was, already half-full from eating half a meal, with a whole new meal in front of me. Did you know that it takes at least 15 minutes for your body to realize it's full, no matter how much you eat? Well, it had been 15 minutes since I'd started eating. There was just no way I could finish it all. I still can feel the texture of soft, warm beef in my mouth.
However, here's where I really tripped them up. When I was down to my last hamburg, I called the server over and said, “I'm really full, and I'd like to take this home.” He stared blankly. “Do you have a box?” Embarrassed, as Japanese employees always are when they can't give you exactly what you want, he shank back to the ubiquitous “employee only” safe haven (in this case the kitchen) after telling me to wait. There, I'm certain that all the server held a small-scale meeting to discuss the situation. He returned with some aluminum foil from the kitchen and wrapped my meat up quite nicely, completing it with a small floral arrangement. Apparently, you just don't use to-go boxes much in Japan. However, I got breakfast out of the whole ordeal.
To end the evening, the chef came out, said something I didn't quite catch about “dishonoring Japan and the Joyfull corporation,” and committed seppuku.
And so, the legend of the wide-eyed foreigner who asks for boxes at restaurants continues to spread across Kagawa prefecture. At this rate, I may run out of restaurants within a few months.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Japanese faces
October 19, 2008
Japanese faces
“There is a desire in me to do what is good, but I'm so stupid that I can't.”
Guidance counselor: So you like international travel and interpersonal conflict. Anything else?
Student: Oh, I also love awkward and embarrassing situations.
Guidance counselor: Oh really...
Student: What do you think I should do with my life?
Guidance counselor: Have you considered becoming a missionary?
People say that all Japanese faces look alive. That's just because most Americans don't know enough Japanese to see the subtle but obvious differences (everything is subtle, here, even things that are obvious). However, living in Japan, I must say that the “all Asians look alike” thing is a myth.
That being said, I can't remember Japanese faces. But I also couldn't remember American faces in college, so it's to be expected. However, it's worse here. You see, when I walk into a room with 15 people and they start introducing them selves (Yamanaka, Matsuyama, Matsunaka, Nakayama, Yamayama...), each of them has one foreign face to remember. And since they've only met two or three foreigners in their lives, each of them will clearly remember my face to their grave. However, I have 15 faces to remember, so I will remember none of them. I can't tell you how many awkward situations this makes for.
Almost a month ago, Dawn and I went to eat at Gusto in Zentsuji, and when we sat down, our waitress said a word I hate: “oboemasuka?” This roughly translates to: “Hey, I know who you are, but do you remember me? Because if not, then you're a jerk who needs to pay attention to people other than himself!!” I was confused, and Dawn couldn't hear what she was saying, but she said her name was “Miki” (a name held by 10% of the women in Japan), then she muttered something about “Ai” (which means “love”), then she looked really flustered and ran away. Slowly, we realized that she was that girl who had come to an event in Ayauta with her friend Ai. We did not get the chance to talk to her again before leaving the restaurant, but we did notice that a different girl waited on us for the rest of the night, and Miki was nowhere to be found. She probably became a hikikomori out of embarrassment.
Well, we felt pretty bad about all this, especially because we wanted to invite her to future events. I'd wanted to go in at the same time on a different week to try to apologize, and tonight I got the chance to. I was really nervous, and just wanted to go home and eat, but I couldn't shake the feeling that God was telling me to go in and try to re-establish contact with this girl.
As I waited to order my food, I was scoping out all the servers: three girls and a guy. I was sure that one girl wasn't Miki, but not sure about the other two. I was also sure the guy wasn't Miki. The hard part is that at Gusto, all the girls dress exactly the same, wear their hair exactly the same, and put on makeup so that their faces look exactly the same. Subtle differences... subtle differences...
I was uneasy the entire time I waited for my food and ate. Which one of these girls was Miki? Was Miki even working? They all seemed really uneasy, but maybe they were just tired after the long shift. Or maybe folk legends have already sprouted up around me. I don't know, but I didn't recognize any of the girls as Miki (which didn't surprise me, because I'm terrible at recognizing faces, remember), though I bet they thought I was really creepy for staring them the whole time. However, I noticed that one seemed to be avoiding me more than all the others, and she seemed to have a few more centi-Mikis (if I were to form a metric unit out of a girl whose appearance I'm clueless of). So, with a prayer for divine strength and wisdom, when I saw that girl go to the register to accept payment from another couple, I knew she was trapped and pounced upon my opportunity.
Did I mention that I ate Gusto Doria? It was one of the cheapest things on the menu (409 yen), and it was quite good: a mixture of white sauce and marinara sauce served over a kind of rice pilaf.
Anyways, I stared Miki down and swallowed my nervousness as she accepted my 1010 yen and opened the register. Her name tag showed her family name, “Shirogawa,” but of course it didn't have her personal name on it, so I had no way of knowing. Oh, if only I remembered! Just earlier in the day, I was addressing an envelope to this very same Miki with an invitation to next week's event inside! If only I would have had the soundness of mind to take note of her family name when I had the chance! But alas, for all such opportunities were passed from the world of reality, and only an icy, throbbing sense of regret remained at such a momentous oversight.
As Miki handed me 601 yen, a receipt, and a drink bar coupon, I muttered unintelligibly, “Sumimasen” (sorry). After her blank stare, I said, “Sono mae no toki, domo sumimasen,” which may or may not mean “I'm sorry for last time.” Her blank stare turned to utter bewilderment and terror, and I said one more time, “Sumimasen,” which means, “Hand me my change already so I can go home and cry.” I think I may have produced another hikikomori.
So, the legend of the short-haired, four-eyed foreigner continues to spread upon the winds of embarrassment, and that Gusto has a new name to me: the Gusto of Awkwardness. Men quake, women scream, and children weep at the sight of my blue, button-down shirts and the gleam upon my glasses, whilst I curse Gusto for their strict dress-code under the full moon that rises so quietly over the still waters.
Do you love awkward situations? Then for crying out loud, come to the mission field! We need you!
Japanese faces
“There is a desire in me to do what is good, but I'm so stupid that I can't.”
Guidance counselor: So you like international travel and interpersonal conflict. Anything else?
Student: Oh, I also love awkward and embarrassing situations.
Guidance counselor: Oh really...
Student: What do you think I should do with my life?
Guidance counselor: Have you considered becoming a missionary?
People say that all Japanese faces look alive. That's just because most Americans don't know enough Japanese to see the subtle but obvious differences (everything is subtle, here, even things that are obvious). However, living in Japan, I must say that the “all Asians look alike” thing is a myth.
That being said, I can't remember Japanese faces. But I also couldn't remember American faces in college, so it's to be expected. However, it's worse here. You see, when I walk into a room with 15 people and they start introducing them selves (Yamanaka, Matsuyama, Matsunaka, Nakayama, Yamayama...), each of them has one foreign face to remember. And since they've only met two or three foreigners in their lives, each of them will clearly remember my face to their grave. However, I have 15 faces to remember, so I will remember none of them. I can't tell you how many awkward situations this makes for.
Almost a month ago, Dawn and I went to eat at Gusto in Zentsuji, and when we sat down, our waitress said a word I hate: “oboemasuka?” This roughly translates to: “Hey, I know who you are, but do you remember me? Because if not, then you're a jerk who needs to pay attention to people other than himself!!” I was confused, and Dawn couldn't hear what she was saying, but she said her name was “Miki” (a name held by 10% of the women in Japan), then she muttered something about “Ai” (which means “love”), then she looked really flustered and ran away. Slowly, we realized that she was that girl who had come to an event in Ayauta with her friend Ai. We did not get the chance to talk to her again before leaving the restaurant, but we did notice that a different girl waited on us for the rest of the night, and Miki was nowhere to be found. She probably became a hikikomori out of embarrassment.
Well, we felt pretty bad about all this, especially because we wanted to invite her to future events. I'd wanted to go in at the same time on a different week to try to apologize, and tonight I got the chance to. I was really nervous, and just wanted to go home and eat, but I couldn't shake the feeling that God was telling me to go in and try to re-establish contact with this girl.
As I waited to order my food, I was scoping out all the servers: three girls and a guy. I was sure that one girl wasn't Miki, but not sure about the other two. I was also sure the guy wasn't Miki. The hard part is that at Gusto, all the girls dress exactly the same, wear their hair exactly the same, and put on makeup so that their faces look exactly the same. Subtle differences... subtle differences...
I was uneasy the entire time I waited for my food and ate. Which one of these girls was Miki? Was Miki even working? They all seemed really uneasy, but maybe they were just tired after the long shift. Or maybe folk legends have already sprouted up around me. I don't know, but I didn't recognize any of the girls as Miki (which didn't surprise me, because I'm terrible at recognizing faces, remember), though I bet they thought I was really creepy for staring them the whole time. However, I noticed that one seemed to be avoiding me more than all the others, and she seemed to have a few more centi-Mikis (if I were to form a metric unit out of a girl whose appearance I'm clueless of). So, with a prayer for divine strength and wisdom, when I saw that girl go to the register to accept payment from another couple, I knew she was trapped and pounced upon my opportunity.
Did I mention that I ate Gusto Doria? It was one of the cheapest things on the menu (409 yen), and it was quite good: a mixture of white sauce and marinara sauce served over a kind of rice pilaf.
Anyways, I stared Miki down and swallowed my nervousness as she accepted my 1010 yen and opened the register. Her name tag showed her family name, “Shirogawa,” but of course it didn't have her personal name on it, so I had no way of knowing. Oh, if only I remembered! Just earlier in the day, I was addressing an envelope to this very same Miki with an invitation to next week's event inside! If only I would have had the soundness of mind to take note of her family name when I had the chance! But alas, for all such opportunities were passed from the world of reality, and only an icy, throbbing sense of regret remained at such a momentous oversight.
As Miki handed me 601 yen, a receipt, and a drink bar coupon, I muttered unintelligibly, “Sumimasen” (sorry). After her blank stare, I said, “Sono mae no toki, domo sumimasen,” which may or may not mean “I'm sorry for last time.” Her blank stare turned to utter bewilderment and terror, and I said one more time, “Sumimasen,” which means, “Hand me my change already so I can go home and cry.” I think I may have produced another hikikomori.
So, the legend of the short-haired, four-eyed foreigner continues to spread upon the winds of embarrassment, and that Gusto has a new name to me: the Gusto of Awkwardness. Men quake, women scream, and children weep at the sight of my blue, button-down shirts and the gleam upon my glasses, whilst I curse Gusto for their strict dress-code under the full moon that rises so quietly over the still waters.
Do you love awkward situations? Then for crying out loud, come to the mission field! We need you!
Saturday, October 4, 2008
A mithril coat
Oct. 4, 2008
Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate;
And though I oft have passed them by,
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon, East of the Sun.
A! Elbereth Gilthoniel!
Silivaren penna miriel
O menel anglar elenath,
Gilthoniel, A! Elbereth!
We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees
The starlight on the Western Seas.
Dear friends,
I've been doing a lot of tract distribution in Aji lately, and let me tell you: there are some scary dogs in that town. And sooner or later, one of them is going to get me, no matter how careful I am. So, I've looked around a bit and decided that my best bet is with a long-sleeved mithril coat. I did a little shopping on ebay and found the worth to be greater than that of the entire Shire, which comes out to about US$8 billion, or 8 X 10^23 yen. I can't do this without you! Please prayerfully consider giving a one-time or monthly gift towards my purchase.
In addition, I've decided that being invisible would help quite a bit (especially when I get those long, “What's a foreigner doing here?” stares). So, I'm going to need a ring of power. Since the One was destroyed at the end of the third age and the Three (Narya, Vilya, and Nenya) departed into the Far West shortly thereafter, I'm stuck with one of the remaining Dwarven rings or with one of the Nine. I couldn't find any trace of them online, so I'd greatly appreciate it if you'd email me any leads you may find.
White gulls call,
Joey
Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate;
And though I oft have passed them by,
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon, East of the Sun.
A! Elbereth Gilthoniel!
Silivaren penna miriel
O menel anglar elenath,
Gilthoniel, A! Elbereth!
We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees
The starlight on the Western Seas.
Dear friends,
I've been doing a lot of tract distribution in Aji lately, and let me tell you: there are some scary dogs in that town. And sooner or later, one of them is going to get me, no matter how careful I am. So, I've looked around a bit and decided that my best bet is with a long-sleeved mithril coat. I did a little shopping on ebay and found the worth to be greater than that of the entire Shire, which comes out to about US$8 billion, or 8 X 10^23 yen. I can't do this without you! Please prayerfully consider giving a one-time or monthly gift towards my purchase.
In addition, I've decided that being invisible would help quite a bit (especially when I get those long, “What's a foreigner doing here?” stares). So, I'm going to need a ring of power. Since the One was destroyed at the end of the third age and the Three (Narya, Vilya, and Nenya) departed into the Far West shortly thereafter, I'm stuck with one of the remaining Dwarven rings or with one of the Nine. I couldn't find any trace of them online, so I'd greatly appreciate it if you'd email me any leads you may find.
White gulls call,
Joey
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Hanging out with a drunk in Aji
I'm going to write more later about my experiences yesterday with a drunk man in Aji. But for now, I need to outline it:
-Was distributing in the yellow area of the gym. A lady yelled at me and told me to stop giving her gomi (trash).
-I ran out of fliers (maybe missed 2-3 houses) and went back to my car to get more. I was surprised that I used probably at least 100 in that single area.
-As I neared my car, two men who were sitting on folding chairs in a vacant lot and smoking beckoned me in the palm-down, Japanese beckoning fashion (which I always feel is rude, because I feel like I'm a little child being beckoned, but that's just because I'm not used to the mannerism).
-Basic info about me; trouble understanding them; told them I lived in Tadotsu; was a missionary; one was offed by this; the other seemed interested and told me to stay at his house.
-I felt this was an opportunity from God Himself. Earlier, I'd been praying for a good interaction or a few good ones while distributing, and God answered that prayer through this man.
-Told him I had a car and drove him to his house, next to PO.
-He asked if I could park there.
-Went in, saw around; he fed me some dinner (rice and some others). Ice coffee.
-Daughter's family lived next door (didn't meet, though I heard kids)
-Kept telling him that I don't drink.
-He kept saying the whole night that we'd get suki-yaki the next day.
-TV on the whole time (always, it seems).
-He drank lots the whole time. He fell down a couple times throughout the night, but wasn't hurt.
-My Japanese was much better than usual, especially understanding
-Played piano for him (he has one upstairs). He was so impressed, though it wasn't that good.
-Eventually took a shower and went to bed. Emailed a few people from my phone asking for prayer.
-Got the name of his religion. Invited him to the Friday event, but he said he was the wrong religion.
-Had a miserable time sleeping: couch looked comfortable, but it was awful. Resorted to going on the floor. Also hard, because we went to bed about 9.
-Miserable night, kept feeling like people would think I was a burgler or that he would forget who I was in the morning (because he drank so much). I also smelled, because I was wearing the same shirt. He'd offered me others, but that seemed a little funny, to me.
-The whole place was black like the coffee. The smoke and coffee and food all left a bitter, dirty taste in my mouth. It was very dark in there. That man is miserable, even if he wouldn't admit it. That place was oppressive, and the whole experience left me exhausted throughout the next day.
-At 6 AM, the Aji town alarm went off, and so we got up. He gave me some somen and pan for breakfast. His friend came, and they started drinking again: at 6 AM! And he smoked about 3 cigarettes in a row. That really left a bitter taste in my mouth, especially because the windows were closed. I could't really spend time with God, either. What a morning.
-We didn't do Suki-yaki. I left at 7:30 or 8, but he invited me back, anytime. I like having a place to stay in Aji as I need it, but that one is oppressive. At least it was very clean. Someone else must clean it.
-Took the expressway back, though I had to go through rush-hour Takamatsu to get to it (and I finally see why that is a "big city").
-Pray for this man! He sure needs it! And still, despite that it was hard, it was good language-wise and a great ministry opportunity. Hopefully this guy can be a contact we can share the gospel with, though he seems somewhat dedicated to his religion: Tenrikyou (see wikipedia for info on it). Pray he comes to the Friday event!
-The work in Aji is so slow that drastic steps like this are needed if a church is to be planted there. This is the advantage to being a single, male missionary. No other demographic could have done what I did yesterday.
Incidentally, I'm really tired of people saying how young I am. I taught a class of four women today who all have kids who are older than I am, and I'm a little tired of them pointing that fact out!
-Was distributing in the yellow area of the gym. A lady yelled at me and told me to stop giving her gomi (trash).
-I ran out of fliers (maybe missed 2-3 houses) and went back to my car to get more. I was surprised that I used probably at least 100 in that single area.
-As I neared my car, two men who were sitting on folding chairs in a vacant lot and smoking beckoned me in the palm-down, Japanese beckoning fashion (which I always feel is rude, because I feel like I'm a little child being beckoned, but that's just because I'm not used to the mannerism).
-Basic info about me; trouble understanding them; told them I lived in Tadotsu; was a missionary; one was offed by this; the other seemed interested and told me to stay at his house.
-I felt this was an opportunity from God Himself. Earlier, I'd been praying for a good interaction or a few good ones while distributing, and God answered that prayer through this man.
-Told him I had a car and drove him to his house, next to PO.
-He asked if I could park there.
-Went in, saw around; he fed me some dinner (rice and some others). Ice coffee.
-Daughter's family lived next door (didn't meet, though I heard kids)
-Kept telling him that I don't drink.
-He kept saying the whole night that we'd get suki-yaki the next day.
-TV on the whole time (always, it seems).
-He drank lots the whole time. He fell down a couple times throughout the night, but wasn't hurt.
-My Japanese was much better than usual, especially understanding
-Played piano for him (he has one upstairs). He was so impressed, though it wasn't that good.
-Eventually took a shower and went to bed. Emailed a few people from my phone asking for prayer.
-Got the name of his religion. Invited him to the Friday event, but he said he was the wrong religion.
-Had a miserable time sleeping: couch looked comfortable, but it was awful. Resorted to going on the floor. Also hard, because we went to bed about 9.
-Miserable night, kept feeling like people would think I was a burgler or that he would forget who I was in the morning (because he drank so much). I also smelled, because I was wearing the same shirt. He'd offered me others, but that seemed a little funny, to me.
-The whole place was black like the coffee. The smoke and coffee and food all left a bitter, dirty taste in my mouth. It was very dark in there. That man is miserable, even if he wouldn't admit it. That place was oppressive, and the whole experience left me exhausted throughout the next day.
-At 6 AM, the Aji town alarm went off, and so we got up. He gave me some somen and pan for breakfast. His friend came, and they started drinking again: at 6 AM! And he smoked about 3 cigarettes in a row. That really left a bitter taste in my mouth, especially because the windows were closed. I could't really spend time with God, either. What a morning.
-We didn't do Suki-yaki. I left at 7:30 or 8, but he invited me back, anytime. I like having a place to stay in Aji as I need it, but that one is oppressive. At least it was very clean. Someone else must clean it.
-Took the expressway back, though I had to go through rush-hour Takamatsu to get to it (and I finally see why that is a "big city").
-Pray for this man! He sure needs it! And still, despite that it was hard, it was good language-wise and a great ministry opportunity. Hopefully this guy can be a contact we can share the gospel with, though he seems somewhat dedicated to his religion: Tenrikyou (see wikipedia for info on it). Pray he comes to the Friday event!
-The work in Aji is so slow that drastic steps like this are needed if a church is to be planted there. This is the advantage to being a single, male missionary. No other demographic could have done what I did yesterday.
Incidentally, I'm really tired of people saying how young I am. I taught a class of four women today who all have kids who are older than I am, and I'm a little tired of them pointing that fact out!
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Peace
I've felt an unbelievable peace these last few days as I seek to live my life in this new way (see last post). Despite circumstances being much the same, these have been some of my most mentally-stable days in Japan since coming here.
At church, I managed to fool the Japanese congregation (3 people tonight) into believing I was keeping pace with the conversation. In actuality, I understood almost nothing because they were talking in "Japan-speed" (which is somewhere right around ludicrous speed). However, they think I speak and understand a lot more Japanese than I really do, because I've gotten used to using a really important part of the language: fillers. Primarily, I use "anno" and "eeto," which are both the Japanese equivalent of "umm." Since I use those in my speech (often), they seem to assume that I'm totally fluent and are surprised when they are reminded that I really have no idea of what's going on around me.
At church, I managed to fool the Japanese congregation (3 people tonight) into believing I was keeping pace with the conversation. In actuality, I understood almost nothing because they were talking in "Japan-speed" (which is somewhere right around ludicrous speed). However, they think I speak and understand a lot more Japanese than I really do, because I've gotten used to using a really important part of the language: fillers. Primarily, I use "anno" and "eeto," which are both the Japanese equivalent of "umm." Since I use those in my speech (often), they seem to assume that I'm totally fluent and are surprised when they are reminded that I really have no idea of what's going on around me.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Daily Grace
Night falls on Aug 14 2008
Daily Grace
“I will stand at my watch and station myself on the ramparts; I will look to see what he will say to me, and what answer I am to give to this complaint.” Hab. 2:1
“Perhaps the Lord will act on our behalf. Nothing can hinder the Lord from saving, whether by many or by few.” I Sam 14:6b
Here I stand on the ramparts... hmmm...
Last night, while praying, I came to a new conclusion about how to live my life in this time: ikitsuzukeru. I don't know if that actually works in Japanese or not, but I think it translates to, “Keep living.” I've decided to pass into survival mode. The emotional burden on my heart of lonliness and despair is too great at this time to do anything else. I must live one day at a time and not worry about the next. Yes, I suppose that some minimal planning must take place, but in principle and in heart, I live one day at a time. I do not have strength to do more.
Ministry is a fine thing to focus on, I suppose, but not now. Learning Japanese was a major goal for the next two years, until I realized that surviving was a more important one. And so I set the preassure of those things aside and realize that even if I spend less time in the study of Japanese or have to forego some appointment or another, so be it, for I must continue to live. I must find my strength in God for whatever the day holds. And in doing so, I believe that I will study harder and work harder than if the work and study themselves were my prize.
Truly, this is a very dark season. Emotionally, it is one of the darkest I have endured thus far. I do not feel very distant from God as I have at times, but an overwhelming weight presses me. So, every morning, I will go to Christ in prayer and seek Him in His word, drink from the brook, as it were, or eat the widow's bread, and I will gather strength for the day. I will not think of the days to come: let each day worry about itself. I do not have the strength to bear those burdens. No one does. Only One has that strength, and He shall, but I cannot. Each night, I shall come to Him again, briefly, exhausted from the trials of the day, but knowing that my struggles have ended. The next day, if I awake without strength to face the trials ahead, I will drink once more from the brook and eat once more of the widow's bread.
Today was my first day of this, and I believe the course is wise. As I awoke today, a heavy burden of despair was pressing on my chest from the moment my eyes opened, and it slowed my every step. After breakfast I was finally able to come to God and receive my daily portion of grace, just enough for today, and the burden was lifted. Today was a good day, though from time to time thoughts arose of things I must do or of the path ahead, but those are not questions of today, so I have no need to ponder them.
This time is not forever. I do not plan to live like this until I leave Japan (I must step into greater ministry roles when I can). However, for now, it is how I must live if this great trial is to be endured. Endurance. Long-suffering. Hope. Faith. These are the virtues I must arm myself with at this time.
“My son, do not make light of the Lord's discipline, and do not lose heart when he rebukes you, because the Lord disciplines those he loves, and he punishes everyone he accepts as a son.” Prov. 3:11-12
He is making me into the man who shall minister before Him here. That is more important than anything now, more important than my comfort, for certain. This must happen if I am to serve Him here. “Deliver,” is about as simple a prayer as one can pray, and oft of late have I prayed it.
So I look with hope as lightning flashes on the edge of the horizon through my window, still too far off for its echoing thunder to be heard. But it flies on clouds across the sea and will arrive here, without fail. So do I stand and wait. The promises of the scriptures are too clear for me to doubt that He who rides on the clouds will deliver those who fear Him. That He splits the heavens to come and rescue me. The Israelites were delivered from Egypt too marvelously, their children from too many armies, David from too many perils, and the kings far too often for me to doubt that. Too many blind were healed and dead were raised for me to doubt that He will come, like the rising sun or the spring rains, for the sake of those who fear him. For my sake.
And yet, perhaps a long wait lies before me. And so I wait it daily, for that is all the strength I have.
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