Nagoya Castle and I

Leaving

A week and a day ago, I was in a church in Nagoya listening to a pastor say goodbye to his church. This pastor had been a pastor for thirty-five years in that location and in his denomination there is a non-communication policy. Basically, once he leaves that church, he is to have no contact with any of those members. Definitely a strong policy, to say the least.

So, I was there as an observer and guest, of course. That is what I do here much of the time, watch and learn. The pastor opened the Bible to the end of Acts chapter 20, where Paul is saying his goodbye’s to the elders of Ephesus. Sometimes Bible verses can be very striking depending on the context in which you read them. To watch as a pastor delivered his final sermon to a group of people that he would no longer be able to interact with after 35 years of ministry together from this passage was very moving for me. The sermon was in Japanese and the percentage that I could understand was small, but, sitting there, the Word of God was opened before me.

In this passage, Paul tells the elders that he will not see them again. After a summary of his ministry there, he commends them to God.

One of my greatest worries when I was preparing to come to Japan was what would happen to my friends that I was leaving behind. What would happen to my church’s youth group? What would happen to my family? Would there be people that would pour into the lives of the people that I left behind?

As I sat there and watched this pastor commend his church to the care of God, I looked at the people I had to commend to God’s care, and I realized that God was doing quite well watching over them without me. The reports I have been getting from the church youth group have been that it has grown. A friend of mine recently told me of all the exciting spiritual growth he has been having lately. Tears started running down my face as I realized how good God has been to me. He has been answering my prayer and watching over my friends.

I tend to look at life sometimes like everything rests on my back. However, that is not true. It is in my moments of ignorant arrogance when I think this way. My task is to accomplish those purposes that I am given; my job is to love God and love my neighbor with my entire being. If loving God leads me to Japan, then I must commend those that I leave behind to God and trust in my loving God. Here I am, and I have found Him trustworthy.

Sometimes I have the idea that I am the pivotal in this life or that life. Yet, I think it is a little more true to think that every time I have a part to play, every time I am given a task, a purpose, here on earth, that is a grace. Being able to take part in this Redemption and Renewal that is moving in the world is a gift from God. Some of us get to plant, some of us get to water, but none of us get to say, “Look at what I did in this person’s life. Look at what God could not have done without me.”

I think I worried before I left because I felt more pivotal that I am. It is a relief to know that the world does not fall apart without me. It is a relief to know that God is working in the lives of people that I can no longer be in direct contact with.
So, I am thankful for that unexpected sermon in Nagoya.

While writing this I was reminded of one of my favorite poems.


John Milton. 1608–1674

On His Blindness

WHEN I consider how my light is spent
E're half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide,
Lodg'd with me useless, though my Soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, least he returning chide,
Doth God exact day-labour, light deny'd,
I fondly ask; But patience to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts, who best
Bear his milde yoak, they serve him best, his State
Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o're Land and Ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and waite.


Dear God,

Whether I am here or there, doing or waiting, help me to be Your humble servant, ready to do whatever you would give me the honor of doing.

The Late Train

Yesterday, I experienced being inconvenienced by a suicide for the first time. It is a strange experience to know that the train you were waiting on is one hour late because someone has died. It is a little surreal to stand in a crowd of a hundred or so people who are waiting to get on with their lives while knowing that another human being made a choice to jump in front of a train.

Then the trains, having paid their respects, began coming again.

We, the living, moved on.

My First Cell-Phone Video

I took this with my cell-phone in a park in Nagoya. It is a rock group of some sort.

On Being Lost

It is important to be able to recognize when one is lost. It is probably the most important part of getting unlost, I would imagine. Well, the other day I got lost in Nagoya.

Nagoya is a city about a hundred miles away or so from where I live, so I cannot be expected to know my way around. One day I was out alone, wandering through Nagoya, and I missed the station that I wanted to enter. When I realized that I missed the station I wanted to enter, I decided to just keep walking and maybe I would hit another station. I didn’t, but I just kept walking.

That’s when it happened; I found Waldo. I was walking along, looked to my right, and saw the character made famous by the “Where’s Waldo” books. That is when I knew I was lost.

Z: So, Zach, how lost are you right now?
Z: I must be pretty lost. I am so lost, I just found Waldo.
Z: And you are talking to yourself.
Z: That can’t be a good sign. Maybe we should ask for directions.

So, I went and asked someone sitting in a nearby park where the closest station is. He told me he didn’t know because he wasn’t from around there and that I should ask the two old men behind him. The two old men, after clearing up that I did not want to ride the bus, told me to walk in the opposite direction that I came.

Remember, if you see a cane-bearing, stocking-capped, stripe-laden man with glasses, you are probably lost.

Yes and Noh

So, I was walking with Mr. White through Nagoya the other day and we had a conversation that went like this:

Z: How will we know where the Noh theater is?
Mr. W: A—
Z: I guess we’ll just Noh.

Then we walked on a little further.

Mr. W: I guess the theater is somewhere back there.
Z: I wouldn’t Noh.

I think Mr. White and I should start a band called “Noh Limit” and I would wear a T-shirt that says “Noh-ledge is Power!” That would rock. Or we could call ourselves, “North American Blend” because Mr. White is Canadian. Or how about, “Kabu Key Noh-tes”? We’ll have to talk about it. But watch for the promo-album in a store near you.

Tree Suspended Between Earth, Sky, Water, and Man

This is an example of a tree that is both fighting the influx of urbanization and human civilization while only surviving because of human support. To me, it looks like it is straining to escape a twisting reality.

I Really Like Trees

I was away from Tokyo the other day, out in a town that is almost country, and I realized something. I had forgotten how much I love to see trees. It felt like part of my soul was missing. It was like meeting a long-lost friend.

Of course, there are trees in Tokyo, but most of them look like prisoners, jailed between concrete and asphalt, braced and bound. Away from the city the trees surprise you, leaping up around every corner, young and wild and full of life. They dance in open spaces where they are not dwarfed by dwellings and their roots are not stunted by sidewalks and subways. Trees are best observed in the wild.

Ah, how would we live without trees? Trees are like friends; you should surround yourself with as many as possible.

Pokemon Center in Nagoya

There is actually an entire store in Nagoya devoted to Pokemon. It is called the Pokemon Center and is celebrating its 10th anniversary. I had no idea that Pokemon had been around that long, let along a store that specialized in Pokemon merchandise. Crazy.

Foreigners, Fighters, and Fidgets

I did buy something at the Pokemon Center to bring home for a friend. It was just such a rare store; I didn’t want to pass up the chance to give someone a strange gift (it was a Pikachu with a chef hat that you use to sprinkle flavoring on rice). On the train back to where I was staying, though, I had an interesting experience.

I was sitting at the very back of the train. It was not crowded. In fact, there were only about four people at my end. I noticed quickly, though, that something was different about the people I was sitting with. The man to my left, I believe, was wound a little too tight. He kept fidgeting and looking around while talking to himself. That is a little odd. The man across from me, though, was quite interesting. He was one of the first people I have seen in Japan crossing his legs in public like a man (most Japanese men cross their legs, an American would consider, like a woman, especially on the train.). Not only that, this young man was wearing a white muscle-shirt and had a huge tattoo on his arm. In the US, that usually does not mean much. In Japan, it screams gang or mafia. People with tattoos are not allowed into public bathhouses here for that reason.

As I was sitting there, I started considering which one of us would be most intimidating to a Japanese person. Would it be the compulsive mutterer, the possible bosuzoku, or me, the strange American? Of course, then I realized that I was a strange American holding a bag of Pokemon merchandise, which may have put me higher on the strange scale, but probably negates my intimidation factor.

Yes, these are the thoughts that occupy my time as I ride the train.