Notes from Kumamoto.

I was invited to share this message on August 9, 2015 at one of my dear sponsoring churches, Trinity Lutheran Church in Fresno, California.

With my lovely Fresno hosts. Thank you for everything!

For two-and-a-half years from the fall of 2012 to the spring of this year, I served in Japan as what is called a "J-3." "J-3" stands for "Japan - 3 years," and is one of the ELCA's longest-running short-term global mission programs. Since 1954, the ELCA has been sending young adults to Japan on the J-3 program to teach English and live in Christian community with other missionaries and members of Japanese churches. I am so thankful for the support, prayers, and encouragement from the members of Trinity Lutheran and its Women of the ELCA group during my tenure in Japan.

Densha Street, Kumamoto.

After a couple of months in Tokyo for language and culture orientation, I moved to a city on the southern island of Kyushu called Kumamoto. The capital of Kumamoto Prefecture, it had about the population of San Francisco and the land area of Bakersfield. It was neither too big, nor too small, and had plenty of culture and atmosphere to spare, owing in large part to its legendary cuisine, world-famous prefectural mascot Kumamon, and the castle dating back 700 years towering over downtown.

Me, Morgan, Caroline.

I arrived in Japan with two other female J-3s my age, Caroline and Morgan. The three of us were assigned to Kumamoto, where Morgan and I worked at Luther Junior and Senior High School and Caroline worked at nearby Kyushu Gakuin Senior High School, both Lutheran schools started by American missionaries in the early 20th century. We were all assigned to separate Lutheran churches in Kumamoto for Sunday morning services, but came together every Sunday evening for the Kumamoto International English Service at Kumamoto Lutheran Church. The church I was assigned to for Sunday mornings was the Japan Evangelical Lutheran Kuwamizu Church, who took very good care of me, and where I learned much more than I taught at my monthly English Bible Study.

My days were busy and my weeks tiring, but the things I witnessed and learned while I was in Japan made the whole experience worthwhile, and I'd like to share with you this morning some things that I saw and learned.

Shrine in Suizenji Park, Kumamoto.

When people think of "the mission field," Japan isn't likely to be first on most people's lists. It's wealthy, stable, and peaceful; it has a famously low violent crime rate; and it's well-known mostly for its high technology, cultural aesthetic, and pop culture. Yet its Christian population is miniscule: less than one percent. Now, up until the mid-nineteenth century Christianity was banned, shunned, or persecuted, but even though freedom of religion has been a guaranteed right since 1873, a growing majority of Japanese aren't even religious. On paper, Japan is majority Buddhist and indigenous Shinto, but most religious expression nowadays is in the form of good luck charms and prayers for things like passing exams, traffic safety, and luck in love. Sadly, Japan also has one of the highest suicide rates in the world, and satisfaction with life ranks incredibly low relative to other developed countries. Japan's need for the Gospel is as great as anywhere else in the world, but while missionaries in underdeveloped countries have a plethora of other, basic human needs to also fulfill, Japan seems to "have it all."

It was in this context that I learned that mission work—and really any kind of work for God's kingdom—is a team effort, and it's not all at once. Like Paul and Apollos in Corinth, some plant the seed, some water it, but only God makes it grow. One of my favorite things working in Japan was hearing the stories from my predecessors' time serving there. 61 years ago, when the J-3 program started, Japan wasn't doing so well. World War II had just ended less than ten years previously, and Japan was literally and economically in shambles. The Allies had helped rebuild the country during its occupation, but it was a dramatically different Japan than before. No longer was the Emperor worshiped as a god, and under its new constitution Japan was not allowed to have a military. As people sought direction during this uncertain time, Christianity enjoyed great growth. In Christ, many people found peace and purpose, and church membership rose.

Rev. Andy Ellis, 1926-2013.

In Kumamoto, then a rural little town with mostly dirt roads and only one traffic light, missionaries worked mostly in education. Reverend Andy Ellis, who started the J-3 program, drove a bookmobile around town and showed evangelical films depicting the life of Christ. The first J-3s were serving as English teachers at the two Lutheran schools in Kumamoto. The rainy season of 1952 was particularly intense, and caused the Shirakawa River that runs through the city to overflow. The flood killed 300 residents and displaced hundreds more, and in Andy Ellis' neighborhood, the only two-storied building was the missionaries' house. While the floodwaters took out all the other homes, Andy Ellis sheltered his neighbors on the second floor.

It used to be that missionaries were the only ones in Kumamoto who had cars, and by my time we were the only ones who didn't. My only independent mode of transportation besides my own two feet was a bicycle. If the Shirakawa were to flood, which it did in the summer before I got there, I would be the one seeking shelter, since the J-3 apartments are on the floodplain.

My relative lack compared to others around me coupled with the undeniable prosperity of Japan in general, made me often wonder what being a missionary really meant. Of course there were plenty of philanthropic activities to take part in—an annual Christmas toy drive at the local Christian orphanage, feeding the homeless at a park once a month, raising money for relief in the Tohoku region as they continue to recover and rebuild after the 2011 earthquake and tsunami. But in my everyday life I felt helpless more often than not. How do I serve God in a country where everyone seemed to have more than me?

I turned out to have been jumping the gun a bit. First of all, none of us, not even missionaries, are capable of saving anyone, even ourselves. That's the whole point of grace, after all. We don't deserve the love God has poured on us through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. We deserve the death He suffered, but instead we are given eternal life. The first thing I had to learn as a missionary was this: that I'm not a savior; I'm a saved sinner.

It was one night that I was walking home to the J-3 apartments with Caroline, who by then had become a good friend, that I expressed my anxiety at how to respond to a student who had expressed an interest in the Christian faith. I was going on about how I felt like this student's faith was like a tiny baby bird in my hands that I'd crush if I wasn't careful when Caroline stopped me and told me straight up: "Honey, it doesn't have a darned thing to do with you."

She was absolutely right. Jesus tells us in today's Gospel reading: "No one can come to me unless that Father who sent me draws him." It's not up to us to do anything except respond to God's choosing of us.

Does that mean evangelism or mission work is irrelevant? Of course not. Jesus is the Bread of Life, but we're the salt of the earth. In a sermon at the International English Service, our pastor remarked that salt is a seasoning that brings out the flavor of food; it is not in and of itself a food. Any child who has tried licking a dash of salt out of their palm can tell you that. I was thinking I was supposed to be salt trying to be bread inviting people to a feast.

So some months into my first year of teaching, I took a different tack: watching, praying, and listening. And sure enough, suddenly I began to see little sprouts and seedlings everywhere. A student expressing a desire to start reading the Bible every day. Multiple adult baptisms one Easter Sunday. Students showing up at the Sunday night International English Service. Slowly I learned to accept that when I saw other missionaries or Christian teachers reach Japanese people for Christ in a powerful way, it was occasion to rejoice, not to feel like a failure in comparison. I wasn't watching people work; I was watching God work.

Luther High School chapel.

My final morning chapel speech to the students of Luther Junior and Senior High School in March perfectly exemplified everything I learned about missionary work over my 30 months in Japan. Normally, when J-3s give morning chapel speeches, they are situated at one lectern on the right, and a Japanese English teacher stands at a lectern to the left. The J-3 reads their chapel speech one paragraph at a time, pausing after each one so the Japanese English teacher can interpret for the students. Both the J-3 and the Japanese teacher's microphones are connected to the PA system so the message can be broadcast over the whole school. I was expecting this chapel speech to go as every other one had, except that as I began to speak, I discovered that my microphone wasn't working.

The teachers in charge of the sound system started frantically trying to get the microphones working. One even started piling books under the microphone to raise it up to my mouth, thinking I might be too far away for it to pick up the sound of my voice. But the microphone I was speaking into was dead.

I didn't stop, though, and was surprised to find myself unfazed. As long as the microphone in front of my interpreter was working, I knew the students were going to hear the most important thing. Not my English, not even my chapel speech, but the Scripture I most wanted them to know and take to heart: Romans 38:38-39. "For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

It didn't matter whether I was getting heard. Few students at my school had the listening comprehension ability to understand a simple English conversation, let alone an entire sermon. There was nothing important about the message getting delivered in my voice, or my language. The important thing was that God was speaking, and I pray that God was in the hearts and minds of the students and teachers listening that day.

God has done so many amazing things in my life and in the lives of the people I worked with in Japan, and I am so blessed to have been a J-3. Thank you for your support during those 29 months and for inviting me here to share these things with you today. May God be glorified and richly bless all of you in your lives and your ministries as you respond to God's call in your lives.

No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws them, and I will raise them up at the last day. It is written in the Prophets: "They will all be taught by God." Everyone who has heard the Father and learned from him comes to me. No one has seen the Father except the one who is from God; only he has seen the Father. Very truly I tell you, the one who believes has eternal life. I am the bread of life. Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, yet they died. But here is the bread that comes down from heaven, which anyone may eat and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.
John 6:44-51 (NIV)