If/Then theology vs a really bad week.

It seems lately all I do is complain. Well, I am good at complaining I suppose, but I should probably cut back some.

But I guess this week, or maybe even month, has been giving me lots of little things to complain about. And all those little things built up to what seems mountain-like proportions. And THEN decided to come crashing down in a fashion similar to an avalanche.

Did I mention I also like to exaggerate? (esp when complaining...)

All of this stuff piling up gets me to thinking...

And thinking is dangerous.

Because I immediately start in with what I have labeled If/Then theology. If I do this, then God does that. If I don't do that, then God does this. Because I did that, God allowed this to happen...

Now, I know there are cases when God responds like that. Jonah doesn't follow God's command. There is a huge storm. This is Jonah's fault. David commits adultery and then has a man killed. God takes away his son. Entire cities are dens of vice and violence and God takes them out.

God does and can react to what we do. We pray, and God performs miracles. Waters part, walls fall down, sicknesses cured, the dead walk again.

But sometimes we pray, and God doesn't answer. Sometimes we live righteous lives and God allows disaster to befall us. (poor Job...) Sometimes we do all the right things, and everything God commands us, and life still sucks. (Jeremiah anyone?)

There is no hard and fast rule for when God is doing something in direct response to what we have or have not done, and when He is acting out something that we can't possibly understand yet for reasons that have nothing to do with what we are doing or not doing.

That's where things get hard.

I want God to make sense. I want an easy to follow formula. If I do this, God does that. It's easy. I know when I mess up, there is a punishment. I know that if something bad happens, it must mean I'm not doing everything I should. Maybe there is some unconfessed sin... Maybe I'm not praying the right way... Maybe I just don't love God enough...

And that's such a dangerous way to think.

That makes our faith dependent upon our works and our circumstances.

Life doesn't work that way.

God doesn't work that way.

So I have to remember that I can't work my way to salvation. It's not all about me and what I've done or am doing. When things get difficult, that doesn't always mean God is mad at me.

And no sooner did I come to that conclusion before I was tested.

Man, I should be careful what I think.

Last Wed. was the last day of classes before summer break. It went well, and Wed night I started packing for the kids church camp we were having the next two days. (late night plus early morning equals a not so enthusiastic Amber, even though the majority of the kids were my English students and I normally love camp.) Well it was a rough month.

My roommate asked me how she could pray for the camp, and it caught me off guard, because I hadn't given it much thought. I wasn't involved or invested so much in the planning, so I guess I forgot I should have been praying for it. I gave her what I could think of at the time and she returned to her room to include me and the camp in her prayers.

Next morning, bright and early, I manage to wake up on time and catch all the right trains and get to the station where I was meeting the rest of the group (because I live so far away, I met them part way.) It was perfect timing with their train pulling up just as I got to the platform.

We rode the trains north to an area called Nikko famous for it's beauty. In the mountains, there is a wonderful Christian camp compound that we stayed at.

We were a bit worried about the weather, but the rain cleared up right about the time we arrived.

So far, so good.

Get to the camp (we even were picked up by car from the station!) and we settle in, eat our lunches and gather together for some group time. After group time was scheduled for "water play" time. There is a near by river, and if that is not safe, then the campsite has a fountain that can be turned on.

Right as the group time ended, and we are supposed to start getting ready for "water play" time, the thunder rolls. Seriously, we said Amen, and Heaven answered.

Now I'm from West Texas. Basically our only source of rain is Thunder storms. They are quite beautiful. But they are dangerous. Growing up in a very flat land, I grew up understanding that you NEVER go outside in a thunderstorm. You NEVER go near water, and you stay away from trees. Because it's so flat, all these things attract the lightening. Heck, we never carried umbrella's because there was metal that might attract lightening. Everything was grounded, and you made sure to put on your rubber soled tennis shoes. I loved watching lighting storms... from inside. (actually, you weren't supposed to go near the windows either...)

So coming to Japan was a bit of a culture shock for me when it came to thunderstorms. First was Japanese thunderstorms are short. Like 30 mins and then they are over. Second, no one actually stops what they are doing because of a thunder storm. People are walking around outside carrying metal umbrellas, going on about their business. It freaked me out the first time I had to walk home in a thunderstorm. Even now it makes me very uneasy to be outside in a Thunderstorm. This is deeply ingrained in me.

So it's "water play" time and we have just been greeted by the rolling of thunder. What do we do? Change into our swimsuits of course. And go down to the river. (actually we went up and then down.) And while it was raining, we played in the river. (it was really cold.) Then it starts to really pour, so we decide to just wait it out there before heading back to the camp. And I'm just freaking out inside because this goes against all thunderstorm safety things I've known since I was a child. Here I am outside, in a thunderstorm, in a river, under a tree.

Scary.

But we made it fine. The rain eventually lessened, we go back to the camp, and they turn on the fountain for some more "water play." Then we can go warm up in the hot spring. I was happy to go to the hot spring.

Then we had some free time before another round of group activities. I rested a bit in my room since I was low on sleep and energy. Group time comes around and we sing and then play a game. It was a "Fruits Basket" type game where we have the chairs in the circle and if a statement applies to you, you rush to get a new chair.

I survived the rocky river, the muddy, steep bank and the thunderstorm. Who would guess Fruits Basket would be my downfall?

The condition was "people who have glasses." I get up, and in my rush to get a chair, I run into the guy next to me. I'm slightly off balance and step on my foot wrong. I feel a slight "pop" and then lot's of pain. I make my way to the next chair, and check my foot. I have weak ankles, so I expected a sprain. I am used to sprains, so I didn't think it would be a big deal. Only it wasn't my ankle. My foot was hurt somehow. I thought it was a strange place to get a sprain, but thought maybe the pain would lesson up like sprains normally do.

The next condition was "people who are wearing underwear." I didn't move because of my foot. I got a few strange looks for that one. Hehe. I did tell the person next to me that I hurt my foot and couldn't move. I just sat with my foot up for the rest of the game. After the game it was time for dinner, but I found I couldn't put a lot of weight on it. So I had to have people help me to the place where we were eating and I propped up my foot with some ice.

After dinner and fireworks and campfire (done inside because of the rain) it was finally time to go to bed. Only now I had to try to climb some stairs. I had two guys helping me, but as I'm a large person, I feel really bad about that. I eventually convinced them to let me crawl up the stairs.

I said a quick prayer, propped up the foot with some more ice and went to bed, hoping the pain would be gone in the morning.

At 2:00 I awoke to the call of nature. I tested the foot and found it hadn't changed. It was in fact more painful. It took me like 30 mins to go to the bathroom that was like 10 feet away. I decided then that I would have to go see a doctor in the morning.

1 car ride, two trains, three wheel chairs, two taxis and 3 doctors later I discovered I have a Jones fracture. This could take up to 5 months or longer to heal. Wonderful. I'm scheduled to attempt to leave the country in two days.

Cut off at the pass again.

I'm told this is a fairly common sports injury. I guess it's something soccer players get a lot.

I got a "sports injury" from playing Fruits Basket. I feel really uncool somehow.

The first part of the day was rather painful, but as soon as I got the foot in a splint (which I had to ask for, Japanese medicine disturbs me sometimes.) I felt much better. I now have crutches and am allowed to put weight on my heel. Half a day of crutches has left me with bruises under my arms and blisters on my hands. Whoo, hoo. Only 5 more months to go.

Anyway, after lots of worrying about whether I would be able to fly home or not, I finally decided that I would try gambling on getting a flight anyway. I have a friend who is going to drive me to the airport (about 2 hours) and once there I should be able to find help with my suitcase.

Tomorrow is packing and getting ready.

All kinds of adventure awaits.

And I'm sure there will be plenty of quiet time to process with God while I'm waiting at the airport with my "acutely fractured" foot, trying to figure out what the next few weeks will look like.

On the up side, I have concrete proof of how awesome my roommates and friends are now. One roommate met me at the station, rode with me to one hospital and one clinic and carried all my stuff brought back from camp. I have been blessed with many people who went out of their way to help me. And my National Japanese Health insurance kept all the visits reasonable. The trains and taxi actually cost more than the doctors.

Prayers for clean healing of my fracture are appreciated. If it doesn't heal properly, it can become a chronic condition. Living so far from a station, and not having a car would make a chronic foot condition very unhelpful.

Next post will either be a (hopefully) triumphant post from my parent's house, or another cut off at the pass post after several days at the airport with no available flights.

Let's hope for the first one. :-D



(on a side note, I told my wonderful roommate jokingly {after she had been lugging around my stuff and helping me right and left} that I'm not sure I'll let her pray for my next camp. {I go back to the same place at the end of August for Church camp} She replied back, "Just imagine what would have happened if I hadn't prayed!" I love having roommates with a good sense of humor.)

Fighting with Hope

My roommates and I have decided to have a "community night" weekly. We eat, and then do a devotion time in an attempt to feed ourselves physically, spiritually and relationally.

One roommate has been teaching us about the Apostolic Prayers, prayers written by the Apostles in the Bible. Today she took us through two prayers found in Romans 15.

May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you a spirit of unity among yourselves, as you follow Christ Jesus, so that with one heart and mouth, you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. (5-6)


May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. (13)

God's an expert at good timing.


The first one grabbed my attention because of the ugliness of my heart today. Today wasn't such a good day, and there were things I'd rather be doing, but I couldn't do because I had committed to community time. I felt the chains of bitterness and frustration wrapping themselves tightly around my heart. Yes, I had felt this way before, whenever my "community" conflicted with my "freedom." I hate having to choose, and I hate the feeling of obligation I have to my Christian community. And soon the bitterness grows, darkening my heart. Community born from obligation is a deformed community. Only Community born of love can be healthy.

And already I was letting bitterness destroy my pillar of our community.

As my roommate read those words, my bitter heart was pierced. Unity. Encouragement. Endurance. All things I was allowing to be crushed by the chains around my heart. The very chains I was blaming "community" for.

How can I glorify Christ with a heart rejecting the unity, encouragement and endurance of the community He so graciously provided me with?

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, the gentle words of rebuke continued to batter at the stubbornness of my self. (Isn't it funny how "gentle" rebuke hurts WAY more than harsh rebuke? Maybe it's just me...)

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. (13)

Hope. ugh. Have I mentioned how I dislike hope? Hope feels like the ultimate betrayer. Leading me around on a merry chase, just to leave me tired and disappointed.

But my previous post, I was complaining about being cut off at the pass, being attacked and frustrated. Of wanting Life, the fullness of Life, and being lacking.

We had a nice long discussion about Hope tonight. Not sure we got anywhere as a group, but it was helpful for me. Because I finally realized that Hope is what I'm missing. When I'm cut off at the pass. When I'm tired and frustrated. What does any of that matter if I have Hope? Hope offers Joy and Peace.

This is the Life we are talking about!

Life that is not dependent on external circumstances. No matter how awful it is, Hope, Joy and Peace can still overflow. That is the Life I am missing!

Often my hope is selfish and misplaced, and I am let down. Because that is not real Hope.

But my new Hope is to become a woman overflowing with Hope, saturated in Peace and Joy.

How wonderful that sounds.

Well, I'll get to test this out sooner than later, since this week will be a crazy one with lots to do and little time to do it in.

For now, I Hope I can keep Joy and Peace in an uncertain airport next Sunday. :-D

Cut off at the pass...

"Why is it that nearly every good thing, from taking the annual family vacation to planning a wedding to cultivating a relationship, takes so much work?
It's almost as if there is something set against us." (pg 6)

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full. (John 10:10)
"Have you ever wondered why Jesus married those two statements? Did you even know he spoke them at the same time? I mean, he says them in one breath. And he has his reasons. By all means, God intends life for you. But right now that life is opposed. It doesn't just roll in on a tray. There is a thief. He comes to steal and kill and destroy. In other words, yes, the offer is life, but you're going to have to fight for it because there's an Enemy in your life with a different agenda.
"There is something set against us.
"We are at war." (pg 12-13)

"Until we come to terms with war as the context of our days we will not understand life. We will misinterpret 90 percent of what is happening around us and to us. It will be very hard to believe that God's intentions toward us are life abundant; it will be even harder not to feel that somehow we are just blowing it." (pg 17)

- Waking the Dead by John Eldredge

Recently, it feels like every which way I turn, I'm cut off at the pass. No matter what I'm trying to accomplish, something comes up and stands in my way. Migraines that knock me out for a whole day. Exhaustion. All these little things that add up so that I can't accomplish my goals.

I want to meet friends. I get a headache.

I want to see a different friend, I have a conflict.

I want to go home to America, I'm flying standby and right now it looks like all the flights are booked. I wonder how long I'll be hanging around Narita Airport next week...

And it's not just me. It's happening to my roommates too.

And it's so frustrating.

You wonder, "What am I doing wrong?" "Why can't I just make it work?" "Why am I not strong enough?"



I've been reading John Eldridge for a while now, and this is a familiar theme he has. We are at war. Satan doesn't like us, and is going to do everything in his power to keep us from God and from Life.

It makes sense.

But it makes me discouraged too.

I feel like I've been drafted for a war that's never going to end.

I don't want to be a solider. Heck, I didn't even get a boot camp for training! I'm not even sure if I have weapons!

But that doesn't matter. I'm still be shot at. I'm still being attacked.

And I'm still loosing hope.

War sucks.

Fighting sucks.

I'm tired, and discouraged.

And Satan smiles.

grrrr.

I hate loosing. I hate being weak. And I hate being powerless.

But I hate fighting.

Fighting for others I might be able to do. But when it comes to fighting for myself, I don't have a clue.

This month has been long and full of disappointments and frustrations. There have been ups, but all I remember is the downs. I have been blessed, but all I remember is the pain.

Where is the Warrior who fights for the weak and oppressed? Where are the men? I don't want to be a solider. I'm a woman. I want to support, but not fight.

But that's not how battles go.

So I guess it's time to get up again, and find or make a new pass. One that won't be cut off.

Prayers appreciated.


(I'm attempting to fly standby back to America on Sunday (America's Saturday) but I've been told the flights all appear to be booked full. This is the time of year when Japanese travel a lot. I was hoping this year would be easier to get tickets on standby, but I have apparently picked the absolute worse time to try to go back to America. Unfortunately, there are no other options. I would prefer to not spend my summer vacation sitting at the airport waiting for an open flight. I appreciate prayers for my safety and for my summer.)

Feeling Time's perspective

As of today, I have been in Japan for 6 years, 9 months and 21 days. It has been 3 years, 3 months and 21 days since I have last stepped foot in America.

My mom told me before I left America for the first time, "I'm afraid you are going to go and never come back." And I told her not to be silly. There was no way something like that could happen. But in the back of my head, I admitted she might be right.


It's not always easy living as a foreigner, but I have it easier than many. I am a white female in a land that likes white people. (although there's a lot of racism against other foreign minorities here, but it's passive racism, which might make it worse.) I came with a group, and I have been taken care of the whole time I've been here. God has never left me alone. And now I can converse well enough in the language and I have a very basic ability to read.

6 years have gone by in a flash. And it feels like it's not enough time.

I am in love with Japan.



When the earthquake happened and there were all kinds of radiation fears, I had a couple of uncles urging me to pack my bags and get the first flight out. But they didn't understand how that was impossible that was for me. And I talked to my parents to see how they were doing with listening to the media and the fear and the playing on emotions that has become the norm for reporting these days. And they gave me the gift of blessing, and understanding. They gave words to what I was afraid to say before.

This is my home.

I love Japan.

And I felt such freedom and love that they had acknowledged that for me. The words I was afraid to say, especially to them, because it felt like a betrayal of the family that cared for me and raised me. And they heard what my heart was screaming, and said it for me.

6 years, 9 months and 21 days.

I have been blessed.

I wouldn't trade it for anything.

On the days that I am frustrated with Japan. On the days that I am frustrated with the financial chains that seem to bind me. On the days I'm frustrated with being an outsider.

I remember.

I wouldn't trade it for anything.

I wouldn't trade my past for anything. When I get caught up in the "what if's", I know that if given the choice, I wouldn't trade. Because everything has led me to here.

If you ask me if I would have changed the way I went to college, so that somehow I had less debt in student loans. Went to a different college, waited a few more years, worked more in college. I consider it, and I remember the faces of the people I've met. The relationships that a price can't be placed on. And I know that if I had done things differently, I would have never been in a place to even seriously consider Japan.

So I accept my circumstances, and rejoice because I am living my dream. Maybe not the dream I had when I was a little girl. When I look at my friends married, with children, living lives that I can no longer relate to, I remember I am living my dream.

I love Japan.

Time flies when you love.

I have one week before I return to America to visit my family. I'll have two weeks to spend with people I haven't seen in 3 years. I"ll have two weeks to get to know my niece and my nephew, my brother's fiance, the adult my brother has become. And they'll have two weeks to try to get to know who I am, for I am not the same person who left Texas 6 years ago.

Time is too short.


But at the same time, it will be two weeks with a Japan size hole in my heart, of longing to return of the pain of separation. And after two weeks, I'll return to Japan, counting the seconds and the miles until I am surrounded by Japanese words I only half understand, and return to my clear cut status as a foreigner in a foreign land.

Time passes slowly when you love much.


It has been 5 months since I have seen the band on a regular basis. The place where I was accepted. The people who no longer think of me as "the foreigner", but merely as "Anbaa." (the Japanese pronunciation of my name.) 5 months without the people and the place that I love have been so terribly long. And I cry out to God, try to bargain with Him, wonder if I did something wrong that they should be separated from me so...

And I imagine.

My mother has been separated from her daughter for 6 years. But she loved me enough to let me be free. Even though I now understand how painful that must be.

Time passes slowly when you love much.


And I remember that things are not one dimensional. I can't force people to be with me because I love them. Because I love them, I have to give them their freedom. And because I love them, I wait, even if they never come back, even if it's only for a little while. Even when it hurts because I want to see them so much.

Because that's what love is.

And isn't that how God loves us? He loved us enough to give us our freedom. He loves us enough to wait for us. To be there to rescue us when we screw up again. And God's Time is much longer than ours...


It will be one month before there is even a chance I'll be able to see the band on a weekly basis again.

And one month seems so far, far away.


6 years have gone by in a flash, for while I love my family, and I appreciate my American heritage, I do not love America. Not the same way.

2 weeks will be both too short and too long.

5 months has pained my heart, and I know there is at least another month to go. Maybe longer.


And I remember God and His promises to the people He loved. How long did Abraham wait for his true dream of a son? How long did Joseph wait until he saw his family again? How long did Israel wait until God rescued them from slavery? God kept His promises. But in His own time.

How long did the world wait for a Savior. the child promised to Eve to redeem her from her fall?



Waiting is hard. Very hard. I really hate waiting. And it's easy to get locked in on only my perspective. And then you start to think unfair things about God. Why is it taking so long? What did I do wrong? Maybe if I did this...? Maybe God doesn't love me enough to give me this? Maybe I love this too much and it's an idol so God has taken it away from me?

But the problem with that line of thought is that it's all about me.

Love, relationships, life, time. They are not one dimensional things.

Does God no longer love my mother because she has been separated from her daughter for 6 years? Of course not.


The feelings and perspective of Time change. To one person 6 years feels too short. To another, it feels too long. They are feelings both born from love.




Well, if you expected a big epiphany at the end of this rambling post, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. I'm just good at rambling. And this is just a snapshot of the things I've been thinking about while facing Time.


But somehow I feel a little freer from the constraints of Time, for just a little bit. It's good to have new perspective.

One week until America. Two weeks after that until Japan. One week after that until I can see the band. Two weeks after that until I have the possibility of seeing them again. And a lifetime of waiting for new things and old things after that.

The waiting never ends (in this lifetime). Only the perspective changes.


The book, The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho is very popular in Japan. I read it because one of my friends likes it very much. It's been several years since I read it, and the first time I read it, I was not impressed. It seemed too universal for me. But there was a impression in it that has stayed with me for a long time, and has kept coming to my mind lately.

The story is about a shepherd boy from Spain, who has a dream about treasure in Egypt. And he decides to follow that dream and find this treasure. And on this journey he learns many things. And he meets a woman of the desert, whom he falls in love with.

When faced with love, he found he must choose. He could continue to search for his dream, and then return for the woman. Or he could stay with the woman and not fulfill his dream. And this is what Fatima says to him:

"I have been waiting for you here at this oasis for a long time. I have forgotten about my past, about my traditions, and the way in which men of the desert expect women to behave. Ever since I was a child, I have dreamed that the desert would bring me a wonderful present. Now, my present has arrived, and it's you."
The boy wanted to take her hand. But Fatima's hands held to the handles of her jug.
"You have told me about your dreams, about the old kind and your treasure. And you've told me about omens. So now, I fear nothing, because it was those omens that brought you to me. And I am a part of your dream, apart of your Personal Legend, as you call it.
"That's why I want you to continue toward your goal. If you have to wait until the war is over, then wait. But if you have to go before then, go on in pursuit of your dream. The dunes are changed by the wind, but the desert never changes. That's the way it will be with our love for each other.
"Makutub,(it is written)" she said. "If I am really a part of your dream, you'll come back one day."
The boy was sad as her left her that day. He thought of all the married shepherds he had known. They had a difficult time convincing their wives that they had to go off into distant fields. Love required them to stay with the people they loved.
He told Fatima that, at their next meeting.
"The desert takes our men from us, and they don't always return," she said. "We know that, and we are used to it. Those who don't return become a part of the clouds, a part of the animals that hide in the ravines and of the water that comes from the earth. They become a part of everything... they become the Soul of the World.
"Some do come back. And then the other women are happy because they believe that their men may one day return, as well. I used to look at those women and envy them their happiness. Now, I too will be one of the women who wait.
"I am a desert woman, and I'm proud of that. I want my husband to wander as free as the wind that shapes the dunes. And, if I have to, I will accept the fact that he has become a part of the clouds, and the animals, and the water of the desert."

(skip forward many pages to where the boy has told Fatima he is leaving to follow his dream.)

"Don't say anything," Fatima interrupted. "One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving."
But the boy continued, "I had a dream, and I met with a king, I sold crystal and crossed the desert. And, because the tribes declared war, I went to the well, seeking the alchemist. So, I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you."
The two embraced. It was the first time either had touched the other.
"I'll be back," the boy said.
"Before this, I always looked to the desert with longing," said Fatima. "Now it will be with hope. My father went away one day, but he returned to my mother, and he has always come back since then."
They said nothing else. They walked a bit farther among the palms, and then the boy left her at the entrance to her tent.
"I'll return, just as your father came back to your mother," he said.
He saw that Fatima's eyes were filled with tears.
"You're crying?"
"I'm a woman of the desert," she said, averting her face. "But above all, I'm a woman."
Fatima went back to her tent, and when daylight came, she went out to do the chores she had done for years. But everything had changed. The boy was no longer at the oasis, and the oasis would never again have the same meaning it had had only yesterday. It would no longer be a place with fifty thousand palm trees and three hundred wells, where the pilgrims arrived, relieved at the end of their long journeys. From that day on, the oasis would be an empty place for her.
From that day on, it was the desert that would be important. She would look to it everyday, and would try to guess which star the boy was following in search of his treasure. She would have to send her kisses on the wind, hoping that the wind would touch the boy's face, and would tell him that she was alive. That she was waiting for him, a woman awaiting a courageous man in search of his treasure. From that day on, the desert would represent only one thing to her: the hope for his return.

Even though I don't agree with everything she says, I agree with many of the sentiments. and I feel like this is what I want to become. A woman who can wait. A woman who can accept waiting. And a woman who can let go of the things she loves, hoping for their return.

So maybe Time is teaching me how to wait. And I wait because I love.

And this is also true of my God.


My favorite quote:

"I'm a woman of the desert," she said, averting her face. "But above all, I'm a woman."

Migraines and Japanese summer

I grew up in West Texas, which has two seasons, hot and not so hot (hot meaning over 100F many of the summer days, but steady in the upper 90's). But since I grew up with it, I knew how to deal with it. Don't stay in direct sunlight too long, drink fluids, etc. But really, I guess it's because our house was centrally cooled, and anytime we traveled it was in our air conditioned car, it just never seemed to affect my my so much.

Then I moved to Japan. An Island nation with insane humidity. Not as hot as my home town by any means of the imagination, but HUMID! And no central AC and no car.

When I lived next door to where I worked it wasn't so bad. I mean I complained, but I lived. Then I started commuting to work, but since it was school I commuted in the mornings before it got so hot and in the evenings when it was cooler.

Now I start work in the afternoon. This means commuting in the worst of the heat. I bicycle 10 mins to the station from my house and then it's an hour on three different trains and a 5-10 min walk after that.

My brain is fried before classes begin.

The humidity makes me sick. I have trouble drinking water, or most drinks because they make me feel ill. I also have trouble eating because it also makes me feel ill. I eat lots of salad in the summer, or cold noodles etc.

In any case, this summer has been bad, and this whole past week I've been trying very hard to not get dehydrated. But last night I came home with a headache, and this morning I work up with the worst migraine yet.

I have never missed a day of work because of being sick or anything the whole time I've been in Japan. (I did miss one day of classes when I was in orientation though.) So 6 years of perfect attendance for work ended today. I had to call in sick and cancel a whole day of classes.

This sucks.

A lot.

After sleeping away most of the day in the living room (the only room with an AC in our house) I'm finally starting to feel better, but still a little woozy, probably from lack of food and water. My poor roommate was exiled to her room while I slept in the living room like an invalid. (She's been very gracious the whole day. I appreciate her help. And she understands because she gets heat sickness WAY faster than me.)

Well, I have two more weeks of classes to figure out how to keep myself properly hydrated while commuting and teaching (on an increasingly smaller budget) and then I'll be off to America for the first time in about 3 years to see my family, and be hit by Texas heat and drought. This summer I'll be able to tell you for sure which summer is worse, Japanese or Texas. ;-)


Now I need to find food that doesn't make me sick so I can go to work tomorrow... :-/

Out of my control.

My mother and father both have diabetes. Both sets of grandparents had diabetes. There is 100% chance I will get diabetes. And probably soon.

If I don't radically change my eating/lifestyle habits (more than I already have since coming to Japan... in 6 years I have lost 60 pounds...) and soon, I'm going to be in trouble.

Does this fact have me rushing to the doctor to get medical advice? (Japanese doctors just tell me I'm fat, but then again, they like to tell that to all Americans I think. Not even kidding. My skinny roommate gets told she is fat.) Am I suddenly shunning things that might encourage diabetes? Am I trying to get in more exercise (in my already insane schedule...)?

Nope. I still eat Ice Cream. I still drink sweet coffee drinks sometimes. I still take the escalator instead of the stairs (because it's hot, and I'm tired and... I have tons more excuses I promise.)

The change in diet and extra walking that I got when I first came to Japan is no longer enough to change my weight problem. But I don't seem to have the self-discipline or desire to push myself harder. I want it to happen easy and naturally. I want to be like my friends who can eat whatever they want and do no exercise and never gain a pound.

But that's not how life goes.

I've seen other diabetics. They are full blown diabetics (not a pre-diabetic like me) who take insulin, and eat chocolate every day. Or drink soda everyday. Fried food. No exercise.

And you feel like screaming at them. Why? Can't you see you are destroying yourself? All those things just tear you apart little by little.

And no matter how many times you tell them, or yell at them, or cry at them, they hear, but they don't listen. And they don't change.




This is what it feels like living in Japan.


Everyone has a God-shaped hole inside of them, a hole that they desperately want to fill. There are all kinds of ways to fill it. Money, food, sex, fantasy, art, hobbies, other people... But none of those things are going to fill it. Some of it in moderation is healthy. But most are empty calories of life.


Japanese people are very open to listening. They listen when you talk about God. They nod their heads. They make polite comments. And then they never change.


Maybe this is human nature. Resistance to change.

Diabetes of the soul.


And from someone who stands on both sides, and feels the frustrations of both sides... being unable to control or change myself, and being unable to control or change others....


It just feels overwhelmingly frustrating.


And I have to get down on my knees, see my own powerlessness, and know it is out of my control....


But that does not make it out of His control...

And so I am searching for hope and trust in the darkness of frustration.



(In other more encouraging news, I got the tickets today that will allow me to go home to visit for the first time in over 3 years! My 4 year old niece doesn't even remember me at all. I'll get to meet my brother's fiance for the first time before they get married too. It'll be nice to get to go home for a bit before coming back.)

feeling helpless... and grumpy

I guess when you think about it, very few of us are in control of our lives. We control small things, but there is so much that is out of our control.

Living as a foreigner helps make this so clear.

When you are a foreigner, you have less rights than those around you. You are at the mercy of the company you work with. You can't read well, and you don't understand all the legal rights etc you have or don't have.

You are living in a place where you have little control.

Usually I don't notice it, but today was one of those days where things just kinda frustrate me. My roommate's company (my former company) is being a complete pain, and it feels like we are helpless against it.

I feel helpless against my debt that takes a huge chunk out of my not-so-large check (but the working conditions are much better) and stress when I think of how tight money will become when I have to start paying my taxes and health insurance for this year. :-/

The frustration and feelings of helplessness (and probably PMS) leave me quite grumpy.

And I find other things to be not satisfied with, and get grumpier.

And I feel like throwing a tantrum.

God, why are things so frustrating? Why can't life be easier? Why can't you just make my debt go away? Why, why, why?

And I have to stop and remind myself...

Love is patient...

Heck I just wrote that stuff.

and the first day things don't go the way I want, I start pouting like a child. I want, I want I want.

I should change my name to Israel. I'm just about as faithful.

But Love perseveres. And hopes. And is patient.

Even when things are frustrating.

So I have to calm down and accept that God is the God the good days, and the frustrating ones too.


And since I'm not so good at being patient, and even worse at persevering... I'm going to send my grumpy little self to bed early tonight.

And Hope that tomorrow I can Love.

Learning to fall... gracefully if possible.

I'm pretty sure I've mentioned this before, but I really like to beat myself up, tear myself down, and then kick myself while I'm down for good measure.


I guess we should be thankful I'm my main victim.


But recently God has been whispering to my poor heart, who is so terribly afraid to just be... me.


In chapel at work, our new theme is "Love." I'm going through some of the most famous passages about love from the Bible. And you know what, there's a reason they are famous. They are really powerful.

1 Corinthians 13? Don't roll your eyes and think you know what it says. Read it again. REALLY read it again.

Now translate that into your daily life. Love is patient, with your family, your friends, your co-workers, that guy who cut you off, the store clerk, the person who just doesn't get it, the person who hurt you. Love is kind, to the people you see every day, the people you take for granted, to people who are jerks, to the people hiding pain behind their fake smiles. Love does not envy, when all your friends are getting married and you are just getting older, when your friend gets the exact thing you wanted, when that girl over there looks good in ANYTHING, when someone has an amazing voice and is a talented singer and that's been your dream since you were little, but you can't carry a tune in a bucket. Love isn't about me. It's not about what I did today. It's not proving I'm better or I'm right. It's not tooting my own horn or seeking my own glory. It's not about setting people up to compliment me. Love doesn't tear down others, it doesn't call people names, or point out flaws in a crowd. Love doesn't laugh when people fall down, or get hurt or embarrassed. Love doesn't demand to be loved back. It's not conditional. It's not about "getting" something. It's not about what I get. It's not about me. Love looks at the other persons circumstances and leaves a HUGE learning curve before getting angry. Love accepts that we are all flawed and gives second chances. And thirds, and 77ths. Love doesn't keep a list of all the times you hurt me, like that time in the second grade.... Love doesn't get happy with violence, or others pain. Love doesn't approve of hate. Love supports and seeks after truth and justice. Love protects those around you, your children, others children, the old, the weak, the wounded, the confused, the backwards, the lost... Love trusts, in those you love, in God's control. Even when there is no evidence, love hopes. For the future, for others to find love, for Home. Love keeps going. When you are dead tired and have nothing left to give, when you are hurt and bleeding, when it seems like nothing ever changes, when everything's going good, when times are tough.


That's a big order to fill. Not just a big order, this is a feakin mountain! This is like trying to climb Mt. Everest with no supplies or training!

This is about the point where I look at myself and say, "might as well just crawl up in a ball and stay there because there's no way you are going to get this at all. Even if you get some of it today, you're gonna screw up tomorrow for sure. This is too hard. You are never going to make it."

Oh wait, Love trusts and hopes...

hmmm...

This doesn't just apply to others.

I need to Trust God. I need to have hope. Hope, huh? How I've hated that word. I hate hoping for things, because I'm usually disappointed. I hoped for a mum and a date for homecoming. I hoped for boyfriends. I hoped for surprise birthday parties and ice cream cakes. I hoped for a single red rose and holding hands with someone I like on a star lit night. And I was disappointed.

Opps. Wait a second. Love is not self-seeking... I guess the hope was a bit misplaced huh? It was all about me... And I became afraid to hope, assuming I wasn't worthy of having any of the things I hoped for. I placed my value on external things.

So I should Hope. For others, for the Life God covets for us all. For star lit nights with God. For chances to Love. Real Love.



But Love does not dishonor. Hmmm... When I beat myself up, I'm beating up someone God loves dearly. Ouch. Love is patient, even with yourself. Love is kind, even when you fall down. Love does not easily anger, even when you make the same mistake over and over again. Love is not self-seeking, but it's not self-defeating either.


I've heard that in gymnastics, learning how to be a stunt man, martial arts etc, the first thing you learn how to do is fall. Because you are guaranteed to fall. No matter how talented you are, YOU WILL FALL. And there are two ways to fall. You can fall correctly, relaxing, rolling into the fall, minimizing the damage. Or you call fall wrong, tensing up, twisting and turning so that you break bones or cause more damage than necessary.

We all fall. All the time. I like working with young kids, and I've learned when a kid falls down and hits his head or whatever, most of the time if you just help them up, they just get right back up and keep going. Half the time the fall doesn't faze them at all. And if I don't react negatively to their fall, they don't realize it's bad. You let them fall. And eventually they figure out how that whole balance thing works.

I'm still a kid. I'm still learning what love looks like. And I'm still falling. But I'm hoping to learn how to fall a little more gracefully.

And stop keeping records of the falls...


I like this video because it shows how love preservers. Even if you aren't a fan of Garth Brooks, the video is good.

Faith and Community

Hebrews 11, a great chapter about faith. Take some time and read it.

I'm winding down at the end of a marathon weekend. Trying to make deliberate efforts to create community in our house, dragging my poor roommates along to my second event (in which I had WAY more very young children than even imagined!!!), a surprise meeting with my friend I hadn't seen in about 2 years and her new husband, searching in bookstores and not finding what we wanted, swimming through a sea of crazy Arashi (super popular idol group) fans near Tokyo Dome trying to find a place to eat, riding crowded trains to get home, surprise house guests the night before planned house guests, church, processing, lots of walking, and trying to love the people important to me.

I learned a lot this weekend.

I have been blessed with an amazing amount of people to love.

And loving people takes a lot of energy.

We survived the weekend, and I would even venture to say it was successful in most areas.

So one would think today I would be basking in the glory of my successes.


Only I didn't.

Somehow, all I could think of was all the ways I was still not measuring up. All the places I still haven't gotten to yet. All the victories I saw, were apparently not enough for me.

I had just finished telling my friend to not allow the Spirit of Discouragement beat her down.

I think it heard me and decided to remind me how hard that is.


So what does this have to do with Hebrews Chapter 11 you ask? It's a reminder to Remember.

Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.

I was talking before about the umiboshi on people's backs, and not being able to see your own.

Faith is accepting it when your friends tell you you have one... even when you can't see it.
Faith is accepting what is not said, but rather believing the history you have with the people in your life.
Faith is accepting that God loves me, and has a plan for me, even if I don't know what it is, and even if it's not what I imagine.
Faith is choosing God's plan over mine.
Hope is looking forward to what God has planned and not what I think I want.
Faith is confidence, not insecurity.

Faith grounded in love...

I hope you read the whole chapter... But here's a section to read again:

¹³ All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth. ¹⁴ People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. ¹⁵ If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. ¹⁶ Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.

Faith is not always receiving the things promised in the time you assume. Faith is welcoming them even from a distance. Faith is knowing you are a foreigner and a stranger. Faith is discontent with the imperfect countries of this earth, and longing for a country of their own. Faith is not desiring to return to the imperfect countries of our past.

Faith is when God is not ashamed to be called my God...


Maybe this is so easy for me to understand. I understand being a foreigner and a stranger. I understand the longing for something better. A longing for a "country" of my own.

Usually the longing disappoints me. I want it now. But Faith is patient. Faith believes when the clock continues to tick. Faith Remembers, and Believes.

Today I was not so faithful. But in my weakness, I learned a little more about Faith, so I am thankful for the times when I fall.

I am Thankful for marathons of community.

I am Thankful for the Blessings in human form that God has put in my life.

And now I am trying to Remember to translate Thankful into Faithful.

How wonderful it would be to live a Faithful life. Even in the trials, Faith ever moves forward. Even when there is nothing to see, no evidence of a future you are hoping for, Faith fights the discouragement, and keeps believing.

How do you fight?

With Faith.

How do you build a community that can withstand storms?

With Faith and Love.

How do you learn to Love, when it's so hard.

Faith in God's character.

If God is Good, then there is nothing to fear.

Trust, even when I cannot see. Even when everything around me offers no hope.

Faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.



I am blessed with people who are not ashamed to be called my friend (even though there are many reasons why they could be.) And I am blessed with a God who is not ashamed to be called my God.

I cling to these, believing in Faith that they are True.

And tiny seeds of courage are planted.

Tomorrow will find Joy, because My God is waiting for me there. And He is not ashamed to be called my God.


(I did originally intend to write more about the lessons about community I've learned, but somehow this is what I came up with. They are in there, but more subtle than I thought, but I'll leave the title stand. Because this is what I learned in community.)

Now I'm off to bed with some Holy Warm Fuzzy thoughts. :-D

Do not forget

Only be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them slip from your heart as long as you live. (Deut. 4:9)

Israel was a very blessed people. They were chosen by God. They were saved from the depths of slavery. They were shown awesome miracles. They were allowed to make a covenant with a powerful God who loved them and pursued them. Sometimes I feel jealous of the personal attention God lavished upon them.

And then to top it all off, they forgot!

When things got tough, they forgot. When times got comfortable, they forgot. Just because time was passing, they forgot.


Seriously, how do you forget spectacular plagues, and walls of water, and walls tumbling down?

But they forgot.


As we all do.


The above passage was directed to Israel to remind them of their relationship with God. Their duty; their loyalty. Remember all God has done for you, and remember to LOVE Him.

God knows how weak we are. This is why He so often reminds us.

It's so easy to forget.

It's easy for me to forget all the wonderful things that have been done for me, or said to me by my close friends. The longer I know them, the more I forget. The more I take for granted, and the less I treat them with deliberate love and respect. "The closer things are, the harder they are to see..."

It's easy for me to listen to negative things, to see the discouraging parts of life, Forgetting all I have have done and come through.


It's easy to look ahead, and see the long, rough road, and give up hope.


So very very easy.


So God reminds us. Do not forget. Write on your hearts the things you have seen and heard. Keep them alive there. Re-live them over and over. They will strengthen and sustain you.

This applies of course to our relationship with God. The first commandment is to Love God with all your heart and all your soul and all your strength.

But the second is Love others as yourself.

This applies to our relationships with others as well. When you forget why you are friends, or why you love someone, it is easy to hurt them, take them for granted.

Remember.

And with Remembering returns Love.


And did you notice? I just did now. God said love others as you love yourself. We aren't supposed to hate ourselves either. God loves us. We can love ourselves too. We can remember the times we were loved and the times we loved. We can love who we are, because God loves who we are.


Today I am remembering old relationships. Why I love these people. All they have done for me. I want to appreciate them for their love for me and others. And I want to restore the places were we have been broken.

I'm not so good at this love thing. But I do know one thing:

One important thing I need to do is: Don't forget.

Who God is.

Who I am.

And who they are.

We are....

Loved.

Seeing the umiboshi on your own back...

(Another Fruits Basket reference post - see previous post, Overcoming the Curse of Human nature if you are confused)

This Father's Day I had a wonderful gift from my Father. Even though I had woken up with a sore throat and almost no voice, I went to church. I got to play with my one year old friend, listen to a church concert (when I wasn't chasing said one year old friend around outside) and watch "Sensei" at his best as he performed at the concert.

Then it was home for a wardrobe change to get ready for the Band's concert. Now I hadn't seen the band for over three months. This is a big deal. Much bigger than normal. Much thought had to be put into what I was going to wear. (In the end, I ended up casual in just a T-shirt and jeans. Took about 45 mins and lots of help from a roommate to get to that point.) I was complimented however, but that's probably just because my new haircut is rather cute.

I had tried to mentally prepare myself for the band, after not seeing them for so long, it's easy to get really high expectations and then be disappointed. But I wasn't disappointed at all. It was another day where I was reminded how much I love them and am loved by them (this includes the fan culture as well.) Seeing people after what felt like such a long time was wonderful. And they played my favorite song. And I was even given a present (the coveted staff pass worn by band members and staff members) by one of the band members. I didn't even ask for it! :-D

It was a good day of affirmation for me. My Father blesses me greatly.

But it kinda makes you wonder, what do you give God for Father's day?

Unfortunately due to my lack of voice I wasn't able to call my own father on Father's day. I will however get to see him in person soon. I'm in the process of getting my tickets for a long overdue trip to America to visit my family. (It's been 3 years I'm guessing) I'm really looking forward to that.

So in spite of all this affirmation, why do I still need to battle feelings of not being good enough?

I like how the issue was addressed in the aforementioned Fruits Basket.

The main character Tohru was teased as a child. When all the other children played the game Fruit Basket they would tell her she was an onigiri "rice ball." This of course means she can't play the game, since onigiri would not be a fruit. So she would wait to be called so she could play, but was never included in the game. In the series she is often represented as a rice ball.

In Japan one of the most common rice ball types is umiboshi (pickled plum). I'm not a fan, but it is quite popular. You just make a ball (or triangle) of white rice, with the red pickled plum in the center. It's a nice simple design.

So Tohru was distressed because the other two main characters seemed to be jealous of each other, each seeing the others good points, and his own bad points. So they were constantly fighting. One day, it dawned on her that they were unable to see their own good points, so all they had was jealousy. And so she thought about how rice balls have the umiboshi in them. But if the rice ball (aka person) looks at himself, and only see's white rice, he will think he is nothing but rice. Not special at all. And everywhere he looks around him, he can see other rice balls with wonderful umiboshi's on them. And so he believes himself to be inferior. But she wonders, what if the umiboshi is on the back? Then then rice ball is unable to see his own wonderful umiboshi. (Umiboshi represents the person's good points) Each person has a different shape, size, flavor, color, but they all have one. But you can't see your own because it's on your back.

I really like how she came to that conclusion. It's easy for me to fall prey to low self-esteem. It's easy to believe that I am nothing but white rice. Somewhat useful, but not terribly appealing. (They do sell only white rice onigiri, they are the cheapest you can buy.) And it's even easier to believe, because it feels like I'm still sitting on the shelf, waiting to be bought.

I struggle with being single. I know I'm not the only one. And I know that my self-worth should not be based on if I am in a relationship or not. But knowing in my head, and knowing in my heart are as far away as the east is from the west. My heart can't hear what my head is saying. It doesn't believe.

When I see my friends getting married, getting engaged, having children, I'm happy for them. I really am. But there's always that small voice inside... crying because I'm still on the shelf. They have entered a world that I don't know about. I can no longer relate to their struggles or their joys. When I hear or see the wonderful men in my wonderful friend's lives say something terribly sweet, like "I'm a better man because of her." I smile, because it's wonderful to hear such loving words and have hope, and I cry, because I look down and see only plain rice, and can't imagine being enough to change a man so he would say the same of me. I see my friend's umiboshi, but not my own.

And I feel shame for making everything about me again.

But God never leaves me or forsakes me. Fortunately He reminds me that I have value, even when I am single. He provides people for me to love, and a place for me to love and be loved. There are children to throw up in the air, there are people who smile with joy when they see me after a long absence. There are people who can see my umiboshi. And even if I can't see it myself, I can believe that it is there. And maybe one day there will be someone who can tell me what it looks like.

So I treasure up the affirmations in my heart, using them as a shield against the fears that want me to believe I am not enough. My Father blesses me. Therefore I am greatly blessed.

Remembering helps conquer the fears. My Father helps comfort my soul.

And my friends help me remember that we often act like two year olds watching God hand out candy, waiting for our piece, not really understanding what patience really is.

So maybe I can be patient just a little longer. Until my poor two year-old like brain short circuits again and God has to patiently remind me to Trust Him.

"My grace is sufficient for you. And you know this because I love you."

One more treasure for my heart. One more sparkle for the umiboshi hidden on my back.

God is good even when I cannot see.

So today I smile in faith, choosing to believe and not doubt.

(Tomorrow is always a different story. Two year old brain and all that...) ;-)

But today is... Good.

Sometimes you just feel like a first grader...

Teaching English conversation gives me a great perspective of different stages of learning development. I teach from 2 years old, up to 80 something.

And you have to treat each age a little differently.

6th graders who cry in class are crying for different reasons than 1st graders crying in class. So you have to adapt and roll with them.

Some ages are easier than others.

But sometimes, you recognize fragments of yourself in your students.

It's like looking in a mirror. Sometimes it's how you used to be. Sometimes it's how you are.

Today, I feel like a first grader.

You know, when you keep trying to do things, but your coordination just isn't up to it. You are trying to play with the big kids, but you can't keep up. The toys fall. The pencil just doesn't want to work the way you want it to. All the little things add up, and then finally you just sit down and cry in frustration.

Yeah, this is one of those times. Not really profound or anything, just frustrated.

I think I need a nap.

This first grader is getting grumpy.

(sorry if you were expecting something deep and enlightening. Sometimes first graders say profound things, but not this first grader, not today.)

Maybe tomorrow I'll be able to play with the big kids...

longing for familiar faces...

There's a line in a song that I've heard recently (in Japanese) that goes something like this: "The closer you are to something, the harder it is to see."

I've been thinking some about the truth in that statement, how when we get too close to people it's easy to take them for granted. When we live in a certain situation or way, it's easy to forget how lucky and fortunate we are. I live in a country full of people literally so close to each other (very densely populated here, try riding a rush hour train sometime.) yet so unable to see what their lives really are, or what they really have.

"The closer you are to something, the harder it is to see."

But recently, I've been noticing that when we are far away, it is also difficult to see.

Maybe the problem is we are just not remembering to look.

A forgetful people we are.

Last Sunday I went to the church I worked at previously for the first time in about a month. It felt like I had been gone forever. But just seeing the familiar faces brought me such peace.

Last week and this week I was visited by old friends and shared breakfast with them. How good it was to see their faces. You sometimes don't even realize how much you miss seeing them until they are in front of you.

It makes me sad not being able to see my roommate for most of the week because our schedules are so different. It makes me sad that I haven't see the band or my friends from there for three months...

I never realized the power familiar faces had.


Tonight as I was commuting home, I was walking through one of the stations I transfer through. As I was looking at the faces walking all around me, my eyes would play tricks on me, and I would think, "Hey, that's~ no wait, he doesn't live around here. He's no longer my student. And he looks like~. Yet again, there's no way Jr. High school students would be this far from home..." I kept seeing familiar faces in strangers.

And I missed those faces, longing to see them again. Longing to know how their lives are going. Longing to share parts of their lives with them.

And it made me think of how many people I'm separated from.


I'm very fortunate to have the opportunity to return home to America for a while this summer. I'm really looking forward to it. It's been 3 or 4 years, and there are so many faces I'm longing to see. Family, friends, church members. There are so many faces I still won't be able to see due to distance and cost... But I'm anticipating how much joy there will be just seeing familiar faces for the first time in years.




And while this is mostly the ramblings of a slightly sleep deprived blogger, there is one small connection I'd like to make.

Why do I long so much for familiar faces? Is it because we are made for fellowship? Is it just because it's familiar?

I think it's deeper than that.

Because these familiar faces have all shown me a different side of God. We are all made in His Image, we all bear the imprints of His own likeness. So every familiar face carries some part of a reflection of my God, who is the ultimate longing of my heart. I have learned so much about God from the people He has blessed me with.

And isn't it nice to know that my life is so much more blessed with more familiar faces than I can recall?

And there will be more familiar faces in the future!


I'm looking forward to the days when I can see you again, and remember your personal, unique likeness of my God.

This is a "Life is awesome moment."

enjoy.

Drugs or Jesus

After a long day "off" (spent calling three numbers and talking to a variety of people in Japanese and English to get our wireless finally set up, and doing my laundry which had reached the status of a small mountain thanks to rainy days...) I spent some time tonight re-visiting some of the songs I grew up with, the country songs that speak to what's simple in life. Not all of them do I agree with, but they all present an aspect of humanity that I identify with as "home."

Tonight a feeling of melancholy has come to remind me how far I am from Home. Not just the home I grew up with, the country values, the working men and the boots... But also the Home yet to come, the one waiting for me...

Anyway, I stumbled across this song, and it sums up what I'm feeling tonight. This was the first time I saw it, but it's really true.

Finding Worship in the shallow end

Today (technically yesterday, but I think it doesn't count as yesterday until I go to sleep.) was Sunday. Sunday means church.

I was able to go to my old, comfortable church for the first time in about a month. It was refreshing to have the familiar liturgy and see people I hadn't seen in a while. I saw some of my old students, and played with children. I prefer that to "adult" conversations most days anyway. Service was spent sitting next to my friend with the most adorable one year old little girl. I get to help "entertain" her when I can go. But mostly I just watched her, finding little bits of God in the wonder of a child.

Afterward we went to a park for a semi-pick nick lunch. Comfortable conversations, helping the baby slide, watching my roommate run and play with the baby... A wonderful peaceful afternoon. Resting and giving rest in the fellowship of the Body of Christ.

Coming home I read a blog from another friend of mine, where she had a link to a song she was doing in class. It was a country song I had never heard before, but it awoke a longing in my soul for things of the past, of when I was young and grew up on country music. I spent some time surfing YouTube for old (being a relative term) country songs from my childhood. And a strange peace, and yet an unspeakable longing engulfed me. Country songs that speak of love, and longing. Pieces of my past that reflect the future I dream of. The chords remind me that I'm still a country girl at heart. And the peace whispers that what I'm really missing is the intimacy we had with God in Eden. And my heart worships in a way I couldn't do in a church.

Is it weird to worship while listening to country music? Or while watching a child play with rocks?

Not so far into my journey into the past, I check my cell phone and realize that my friend has e-mailed me. She wants to know if I'm free. There's a place she want's to go in Tokyo and doesn't want to go alone. I think of how I should be more responsible with my money, I should rest and I reply back, "sure, I'll go with you." After all, she is more important than money.

We ride the trains in comfortable chatter. I'm happy to know my Japanese is good enough now to talk like this. We dream of her being able to come and visit America with me this summer. Or being able to visit another friend in Osaka in the Fall. Just being together. It's fun. I go with her so she can buy stuff for the latest Korean pop idol. I think she's slightly crazy, but I'm crazy about different things, so we all have our "idols."

We wander around Shibuya after she makes her purchases. We run across a small cafe called "amber." So what else is there to do other than try it out. It was a cute little place, unfortunately smelling of cigarette smoke, but the food was good. (I had a quite tasty avocado gratin made with a soy based cream sauce with plenty of garlic) Easy conversation in a novel place. I got to keep a coaster, and the employees got a kick out of the fact that I had the same name as the restaurant. Maybe I'll go back on my birthday and get a dessert set.















More wandering and we find some game centers to play around in. We manage to find a nice employee who "arranged" some prizes for us so we could win them easily. I got a nice stuffed animal. A really cute otter.


Coming home in the rain, the peace stays with me. I shouldn't feel rested, but yet I do. I feel content in a day of unusual worship and blessings and fellowship.

And now I'm listening to some more country music and longing for heaven.

Maybe not your idea of worship and rest, but I feel closer to God today than I have in a while.

A good Sunday. Finding Worship even in the shallow end. :-D

Late night blogging part 2: The true enemy

(This will probably make more sense if you read the previous rant, er, post first...)


I was getting ready for bed, when the second urge to blog hit me. If I went to sleep, I knew I would loose it, so here I am again, for the second time tonight, finishing up the processing that I started in the previous post.



I have wonderful roommates. They are a lot of fun. I relate to each one differently, but they are both very important to me and bless me enormously.

Roommate number 2 and I have a very "special" relationship. We fight. All the time. (she is quite violent I tell you!) Only we are fighting in jest. We both enjoy verbal sparring and spend many of our conversations in mock battles of the wit. (I of course win most often, being ever so clever and all.) She takes great pleasure in twisting my words to the worst possible meaning and throwing them back at me. (This often leaves roommate number 1 attempting to translate, or just laughing at us) We both take great pains to get roommate number 1 to agree with our side. (She is quite skilled at remaining neutral, allowing neither of us to "win")

This is of course all in play, and we don't take any of it seriously. It helps us refresh ourselves and stretch our minds a bit in the process.

But remembering this made me think. There are times when this kind of stuff is not in jest and fun.

Just think of any teen movies involving girls. Where one girl innocently says something meaningful to her, and others twist it and use it against her. Come to think of it, we call this politics when we are adults...

So, how does this relate to my previous post?

Ah, so glad you asked.

Because, it's all about WHO is doing the whispering.

When I say something because I care about the well being of another person, this reeks of love. There is an Enemy who hates anything that reeks of love, and therefore seeks to twist and destroy it whenever possible. If I say "I'm worried about your child" he twists it and "You are a bad parent" is heard. Culture, bad translation, insensitivity, a host of excuses are blamed, and hated. And an action born of concern has become a breeding ground of hurt and suspicion. Score one for the Enemy.

And it's so easy to buy into. When I run into a wall, when I hit the frustrations that I perceive as culture, or stubbornness or fear, and when I resent them, the Enemy gains a foothold in my heart. None of these are the problems. They are the excuses, the symptoms, covering the espionage of the Enemy.

When my roommate deliberately twists my words, it doesn't upset me, because I know we are joking, and I know she is not my enemy. If I didn't know that, and walked into a discussion like ours, it could be so easy to be hurt and offended.

When I only see what is obvious, or what I want to see, I allow the Enemy room to maneuver. When I realize it's all a cover up, I can see beneath the surface, stop resenting the people, and my frustration dissipates.

My enemy is not the culture, it is not the church, it is not people or even myself.

My Enemy is Satan, who seeks to devour us like a roaring lion.

There's a sudden feeling of freedom with this revelation.

Or maybe it's the feeling that now my blogging is done and I can go to sleep. ;-)

Either way, my heart feels lighter now, and Hope burns stronger.

Funny how you feel better when you know your enemy has already been defeated. :-D

Frustrations vs Faith; Trust in the face of weakness and brokeness.

How do I say the things I want to say? How do I make the words come out so that they are not misunderstood or offensive? Are these even things that I should care about?

I worked for years in a lukewarm church, doing lukewarm events and saying lukewarm things. I watched close friends of mine with their battles in less tepid places. I rejoiced when I left the program, because I was tired of battles that I could not see or fruit that seemed to be too small, rotten, or crushed before ripening. I was tired of watching my friends, my comrades be injured.

My battles were small. I was on the edge, far enough to see, but not get as caught up. And I was thankful.

Two years I worked in meaningless jobs, loving children, but somehow not making any impact, either on their lives or their ability to use English. And I felt hollow inside, knowing there has to be something more.

Now I return to the "church."

I grew up in West Texas, a Lutheran in a world of Baptist and Methodist who always asked me "What's a Lutheran?" My first ever case of culture shock was when I went to a Lutheran college. My second case was when I went to the Twin Cities for two weeks of missionary training. (West Texas having much less of the "culture" of Lutheranism)

After working as a missionary for a couple of year, I thanked God that I had not gone into my original field of youth ministry in American churches.

I'm not a "church" person.

Don't get me wrong. I faithfully attend church. I love when I am able to fully worship. I think churches are so very important.

But something about the way humans have warped this institution makes me feel chained and drained of life.

I feel guilt because I don't enjoy "church work."

My friend likes to call me "post-modern" because I prefer the "edges" to the "church." (I'm not really sure what that means, but she says it often.)

Once again, don't misunderstand. I like my job. I enjoy teaching. I enjoy being with my students and learning about them. I love teaching about the Bible.

But...

sometimes...

It's not enough.


My life on the edge has protected me from many things. And now I'm facing things I haven't before. And I feel so helpless in the face of it all.

Last week I had my first successful event. We line danced. There was laughter, and music, children running up and jumping into my arms to be swung around. I had a Bible verse ready, we recited it in English. And it's over. The kids go home, remembering the dancing, but not understanding how it relates to life. Do I even understand how it relates to life?

And I think of my students. I shouldn't pry too deeply into the private life of a student with behavior problems. I can't do anything anyway. Just try to do something with him in class... I have to be careful if I want to offer food to my students who are starving because they come straight from school to English class without a chance to eat dinner, and some even have another cram school after that. I might imply that their parent's aren't taking care of them. Every time I look at one of my students with care and compassion, and want to help, I'm told I can't. That's not how it's done. Someone might get offended. We've never done it that way before.

And something inside of me screams. Isn't this what I'm here to do? What happened to binding up the broken-hearted and setting the captives free? I feel like all we are doing are keeping the captives a little more comfortable. Here, have some tea, and here's some lotion because I know those chains must be chafing. No, wait, I can't give the lotion because that would let you know you are in chains. Well, anyway, here's some tea.

Discouragement sets in. You wonder, what's the point? How long do we wait and pray O Lord? I see my friends, their hearts breaking and struggling, bleeding for people we can't seem to help.

And everywhere I look, stumbling blocks. The culture, "church culture", other Christians, my own fears and weaknesses, my own judgment.

I feel weak.

I think of how many people spend years and years praying for people they love, without an ounce of hope. There are countless examples given to us by God Himself.

How many times was Abram discouraged, how many times did he lose hope, I wonder...
Moses? Joseph? Poor Jeremiah? David?

Yet, they persevered.

God never fails.



I always struggle with the balance of being a missionary. How much of my desire to "change" things here arrogance from my own American way of life? Do I want to just make the people here American/Christian clones? How much of my reluctance to enforce change is of respect for the culture here, valuing harmony and history?

But in the end, isn't a missionary supposed to be an agent of change? Otherwise it's not even needed.

How do I offer love without offending? But isn't the very nature of Christianity supposed to be offensive?

I just falter in frustration, wondering what it is I'm supposed to be doing? My prayers feel hollow, my motivations suspect.

And the only thing I have left is Trust. Trust in a God who works perfect through weakness. Trust that even though I feel like my prayers are in vain, and time is passing by with no results, God is in control.

I'm suddenly glad that it is Jesus who binds up the broken hearted and sets the captives free. I seem to be one of those who are helping with the breaking and chaining...

But I can move forward because I know there is Grace. Maybe tomorrow my heart can learn to love a little more and understand a little more than today. Maybe tomorrow my heart will be opened to pray in Truth for these people and this land.

And even if it's not tomorrow...

I have only Faith and Trust to hold on to.

That is the strength that my weakness gives me.

I have far more questions and frustrations than answers. But then again, if I had all the answers I wouldn't need Faith.

I thank God for Remembrance, and for sustaining, and for patience with thick-headed disciples.

And I Hope for tomorrow...

Overcoming the curse of human nature

When I was in high school, some friends of mine introduced me to the world of anime (or Japanime as it was called at the time.) At first I was skeptical because after all, they were just cartoons, right? Those thoughts were completely shattered the more I watched.

Anime is merely a way of telling stories. It's a media form and has no bearing on the quality of the story. Just like there are bad television shows that dull the mind and offer only superficial entertainment, there are also bad anime series. But there are some very stimulating and thought provoking television shows and movies as well. And in anime as well.

One of my favorite series is called "Fruits Basket." This is a innocent seeming story about a family with a strange curse. 14 members of the family have been cursed. (Japanese families are still often very clan like, with large estates and strong family ties even among cousins etc, so this is a large wealthy family.) 13 of the family turn into animals of the zodiac (plus a cat) when they are weak or when they are hugged by a member of the opposite sex. And one, who represents God, bears the brunt of the curse, and in return is head of the family. In stumbles a high school girl who has recently become orphaned.

At first I wasn't so sure about this series, because I'm not a fan of anything that deals with the zodiac in general. But it turns out that there is actually very little to do with the actual zodiac or it's meanings, it's just kinda there.

What the series does do is explore wounded human nature. The Sohma family is cursed. And each member reacts to the curse differently. Some react in anger, some force themselves to be cheerful, some become withdrawn, but they all carry deep, deep scars born from their curse. They feel hopeless and trapped in their situation, controlled by an equally wounded and fearful "god."

And here enters Tohru Honda, a high school girl whose mother had just died in a car accident. Her father had died when she was very young. Her mother was a former gang member, who had quit when she met Mr Honda. She had found someone who accepted her for who she was, and gave her love and allowed her to bloom. When her husband died, she did her best as a single mother, pouring her love into Tohru, and teaching her what it means to be a kind person.

This love helped Tohru become a person who chose to believe in and accept other people, finding their good points, even when she was living under difficult circumstances.

She comes to live with three of the main characters by chance, and discovers their secret. But instead of rejecting them, she accepts them and wishes to continue being their friend. Her unconditional love has a great impact on the wounded hearts, and one by one the cursed family members begin to seek her out.

The series isn't a dark series, in fact it's quite humorous. But the characters are multi-leveled and deal with the real pain and fears of rejection and self-loathing. All the characters feel worthless, because they have been cursed, they are no longer human, and somehow deserve their pain. But they long for redemption even so.

There is no instant fix in this story (the anime is only one season, but the book form last for well over 13 volumes and goes much deeper into the characters issues.) but it is instead a journey of hurting people hurting others, being hurt, but then being accepted and slowly changing and accepting themselves, becoming kinder in the process.

One of the characters is a grade school girl, who encounters bullying at her school. She is different. All the cursed members have hair color that resembles their animal. In Japan, where everyone has dark hair, it's easy to stand out. So the girls in her school didn't like the fact that she had different colored hair. When she tried to defend herself, the girls ignored her, eventually just laughing anytime she said anything. In the end, the girl locks away her words, unable to speak. She quits going to school, and eventually runs away from home in her shame.

She is eventually found and introduced to Tohru, who of course falls in love with her instantly. Little by little, the girl regains her courage, but is still unable to speak. Eventually she recieves a letter from her school teacher, urging her to come back to school. In the letter, the well meaning teacher writes "You should learn to like yourself a little more, and then others will like you too."

Two others with the curse had been reading the letter with her, and were disgusted with what was written. But one, thinking of how he had started to change since Tohru had entered his life, reflects about it. He said, "I don't understand that thinking. How can someone who can only see the ugly things about themselves learn to see the good things? How can you like yourself just like that? No, I think the teacher was wrong. First you have to be told that you are loved, and then little by little, you can learn to love yourself." He told her how much she was loved, and they were all relieved when the little girl made her first utterance.

I really like this series. It makes me laugh, it makes me cry, and it makes me think. It does such a good job of capturing the human condition. We are cursed beings. The curse was not about transforming into an animal, the curse was the pain of rejection and the pain of being different. The more you went into the series, the more you saw how each character was driven or defined by his or her pain. Even those who weren't cursed. Some turned their pain into strength, but most were being crushed by it, crying out for a savior.

Of course this series is not Christian, but it shows life without God, or rather life with a flawed god. In the end, the only thing that can redeem these people from their pain, is love: unconditional love.

And isn't that what we have been given from God? Isn't that the people we are supposed to become. A person who does not look at another person and finds reason to distrust them, but instead looks at a person and celebrates them. Instead of giving into jealousy, there is celebration.

I learn so much of what it looks like to be a Christian from the main character, Tohru, who even when she has every right to give into her pain, she still accepts and loves others for who they are. She doesn't judge, but merely accepts. She gladly serves, and learned the secret of thankfulness.

John Eldredge likes to talk about how all Epic stories are just a reflection of The Epic Story of God and His love for us. I feel like I don't have words to do justice for this series, but somehow I wanted to write out a little of what it makes me feel when I encounter stories like this.

Hope from ashes. Redemption from pain. Unconditional love. Struggling, but not being overcome. And changing and becoming stronger and better people because of the struggle.

Our pain, our struggles, our relational disasters. These are all parts of the curse of sin. But there is hope, even in the cursing. We are not left alone in our curse. Jesus took the curse upon Himself to save us. He loved us when we were unlovable. He has given us reminders of His love. We are allowed to live even when cursed with death.

Yesterday and today I was overcome with my own ugliness. How my heart judges and condemns others so easily. How I focus on myself so much, it traps me in a miserable spiral.

But God reminds us that we are loved. Even in a sinful world, living with other sinful people and being confronted with our own sin, God gives us reflections of His love. We are not perfect people. But we are not perfectly cursed either. We have Hope and offers of Redemption.

My heart was soothed by a roommate who worries about me, and took time to just be with me when I wasn't feeling well, physically and emotionally. And God reminded me through a silly story about His love, and what life is really about.

I'm not alone in my struggles and my pain.

Someday I want to become the kind of person who gives love to others. I want to look at people and see their good points, and celebrate them, instead of being jealous or threatened by them.

Growth is painful. But it is growth. And growth is a blessing from God.

I'm thankful for another chance to Remember and Learn and be Challenged to rise above myself.

I hope I can remember this tomorrow as I brave another day of rain and work...

But at least I know, even when I fall and I hurt others, I can never be so ugly that God doesn't love me and continues to bless me.

Yes, tonight I am Thankful.

and going back to bed, so I can remember to be loving tomorrow. ;-)

The importance of Remembrance

I'm ADD. The non-hyperactive kind, but still ADD. So this means I am prone to forgetfulness. Things that I have said and done are clearly etched in other's minds, but I am often shocked and clueless when they re-count them to me.

It's easy to forget.

Well, some things.

Trauma, scars, wounds, self-doubt, guilt. These we are constantly being reminded of. Things that keep us away from Truth and Peace and Joy. These we can easily recall at any time. Negative things that would pull us down and keep us under. Oh yes, these I remember often and with vivid colors.

There are other things that I remember can re-call. I think my most vivid memories I have made have been in Japan, mainly because I am always aware of the uncertainty of life here. Will I be here next year? How many more times will I be able to meet these people? Will this be the last chance I have? There are so many things out of my control, so I actively archive and treasure memories. When I feel uncertain, or I hear the lies of self-hatred whispering in my ear, I remember.

I think of Israel. It's really shocking how forgetful they were. Or I used to think so. I mean, really! They saw really BIG powerful miracles and acts of God. And the first time they hit a snag, they complain, and here comes selective memory. "Ah, how wonderful it was back when we were in Egypt. We had food and we ate our fill everyday." (conveniently forgetting how much they complained of their slavery at the time.)

But God, ever so aware of our faulty memories, kept giving them new things to remember.

How blessed we are.

Today I was able to talk with an old friend for the first time in years. She reminded me of so many things we used to do and be when we were younger. So much I have forgotten. So much I have lost. But she remembered for me. And reminded me. And we rejoiced in the remembering.

I often struggle with self-worth. It's a daily ritual for me lately to make myself remember why I am OK. And most of my remembering is done through the affirmations of those I care about.

I am daily amazed when people accept me instead of merely put up with me. It honestly shocks me when people desire to spend time with me. I am baffled when people desire my presence, not just occasionally, but they want me to live near them and be in community with them.

Well, I never said I didn't have self-worth issues.

But that's not really the point.

I think there are all things that we forget. Important things. Things that when we remember change our whole view of the world and life. These things are different for different people, but we all have them.

Or the things we remember, like in the back of our minds, but don't recall. They are just sitting there, dusty and forlorn.

And I can see how this is what the Enemy wants. Us distracted, forgetful of the things that would bring us Life. Anything to keep us discontent, distrustful or rebellious.

No wonder God reminds us so often to Remember.

Let love and faithfulness never leave you;
bind them around your neck,
write them on the tablet of your heart.
-Proverbs 3:3

⁴ Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. ⁵ Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. ⁶ These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. ⁷ Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. ⁸ Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. ⁹ Write them on the door-frames of your houses and on your gates.
-Deuteronomy 6:4-9

There are so many things that should be forgotten. Hate, fear, rejection, things that distract us from Life. But oh so many more things that should be Remembered. Love, friendship, rest, rejoicing, small remnants of Eden still left for us, to Remind us that all is not lost. In the midst of an imperfect world, we are called to Remember.

Today I am thankful for those who Remember and Remind, and share with me the joys of Remembrance.


And somehow Heaven feels just a little more tangible tonight.