First things first: clothes.
It occurred to me the other day that one of the major differences between my trip to Rwanda last year and my semester in Japan is the concept of clothes. Sounds a little strange, right? Well, when I first came here (or after about a week or so), I felt very self-conscious about my appearance. Japanese women--especially university students and businesswomen--are kind of known for dressing fairly classy on a daily basis. I brought some nice clothes to Japan, but just before I came I had been seriously considering downsizing my wardrobe to the jeans-and-t-shirt look, plus a few dresses for special occasions. Oops. So anyway, after an OK from the parents, I bought a few things. I thought, 'hey, I'm not really being materialistic. This is just Japan.' Well, kind of true, but then I started to second-guess myself. And "third-guess" myself, to the point where I went shopping by myself on Saturday as a sort of reward for suffering through two and a half hours of meticulous video editing. But then I thought of Rwanda, where I would wear shirts multiple times even though they could probably stand to be washed for how much I sweated in them, and even--dare I say it--wear a single pair of underwear more than once (with a liner, of course) to conserve the water needed to do laundry. I tried to give things away, determined to send a bunch of clothes to Value Village when I returned to the States. Needless to say I gradually forgot my determination and bought more clothes to replace the ones I gave away...
So. Now. It's not that I consider it a sin to buy clothes. I appreciate fashion in Japan and the unique ways people choose to express themselves through what they wear. At the same time, I wonder what is really necessary. What you wear is not your identity--I think realizing that is important--but is it wrong to buy clothes when you have the means? Is it necessary to limit your material wealth to the absolute minimum to survive, to live like people in poorer conditions? Is it a matter of empathy, or should you just consider, with every purchase, that the money could be used to better ends? And if you save then, but spend it on something else later, is that worse?
Maybe I'm getting too philosophical, or confusing the point. Really, I just want to say that I'm surprised by how drastically different my perceptions are, regarding something as "trivial" as clothes, from one country to the next. Japan isn't poor, but the quality of some of my clothes HAS deteriorated, I believe, because of things like the way laundry is done (no dryers) and even the weather; still, clothes seem more important here.
Anyway. I suppose I'm rambling now. We have other things to cover, so I'll move on.
Church:
Yesterday we watched a televised sermon that was translated in English, given by a pastor from the local church who has been studying/training in Tokyo the past few months. The lesson was the second of five in a series called "Echoes of Jesus" titled "Sons and Daughters at His Table". At first I didn't quite understand the connections between all the Bible verses referenced, but then we moved into a description of "Metaphors of Our Relationship with Our Lord Jesus". The pastor listed the following:
1) potter and clay
2) farmer and seeds
3) a woman and her lost coin
4) fisherman and fish
5) tree and branches
6) shepherd and sheep
7) king and subjects
8) judge and common man/woman
9) manager and servants
10) friends
11) father and son/daughter
12) husband and wife--who are in love
The pastor went on to say that the last three are the most mature views of our relationship with Jesus. (It occurs to me now that maybe those last three aren't supposed to be metaphors, but then I realize that every term or concept we use to describe a supernatural relationship is necessarily metaphorical; we can't describe with words something that's beyond mere human existence, because words in themselves are something of human creation, in the end. Scary thought, huh? But I digress). He also said (quoting from the booklet I received),
"The type of metaphor we use will determine the kind of messages or 'voices' we hear in our heads about Him and about our standing with Him."
And this is where is started to get convicting (paraphrasing): substitute the voices of 'I am what I do', 'I am what I have', 'I am what others say about me', and 'I am how I respond' for 'I am loved', 'I am the beloved', and 'I am His'.
"If these [last three] voices dominate your thinking then you will be able to go through the rejection, brokenness and pain in a healthy way."
...
"We need to create space to listen to God's healthy voice about us. Jesus was busy; constantly pulled to meet the many needs that came his way, for example in Luke when he fed the 5,000. Still, he created time to listen to God, before He went back to minister to others.
When you really listen to His voice you will be able to take rejection."
About this time, I really took it to heart that I hadn't been listening. It just so happens that last week and this week came together as one of those periods where I was getting really caught up in deadlines and schoolwork and general inadequacies, so much so that I let myself be overwhelmed rather than turn to God. And as my health is also somewhat sub-par (at least it's been worrying me) at the moment, I was reminded of that small voice I heard last year at church in Minnesota: when I had been ill for over a week and not sure of the cause, deep down I believed that I was being punished for something, and it was in the midst of that--while listening to the most powerful rendition of "Great I Am" that I've ever heard--that I heard Him say "no," in the most gentle and sad parental voice; "no honey, I'm not punishing you--I love you". And I broke down and cried. The only time I've really sobbed in church before. I was nearly moved to tears yesterday too, in truth. I also realized that my last relationship was largely a result of feeling a lack of affection, so I sought it through human means. I don't really regret it, because I find that sort of thinking fruitless, but it makes me sad, realizing I have Someone there all the time. Someone very precious who lets me return to him again and again. For that I am unbelievably grateful.
But there's more. That morning I missed/skipped breakfast because my host mom wasn't up to make it (and in Japan families, you really don't touch much in the kitchen if you're not Mom). It was somewhat of a miscommunication on both ends (as I think I am doomed to participate in as long as I am not Japanese), but I was feeling a little bitter about it. Then this sermon, and afterwards my American friend and I, along with a few other young church members (30 is still young, right?) were blessed by another few members who made us curry (Japanese style is NOT the same as Indian, but still good) for lunch. Normally I would buy lunch, but instead I got to eat at the home of someone I feel close to and have fellowship with fellow Christians--friends--in Japanese. I'm REALLY going to miss them when I leave.
And still more (last thing--ganbare!). Today, after my Japanese test (the listening part of which went kind of horribly), I was talking to my partner about the skit we have to make up (in Japanese) for class next week. We both happened to have a library book to return, so we continued talking. Since I woke up so late I had to skip breakfast this morning (first time for me), we decided to go for coffee. I hadn't talked with this girl much before, but I've been having a lot of these conversations lately, where I start talking with my classmates and finding out we have a lot more in common than I thought.
So. We were talking. It started with grades and education. Of course all us small-school study-abroad students start to really realize that there's a lot more to education than grades and school :) And then we think of horrors in the world. And then we find we both know Jesus. And then I'm convicted all over again about the nature of my relationship with God and what I can be doing to honor him more and serve others and it hurts. It hurts to think about how much I don't hurt on a daily basis compared to those in need. It hurts to think about how hard it is to even look at their hurt--hibakusha, for example, and immigrants, and the homeless...It hurts to know I don't have the courage to face that. To face the fact that we can all still do something. It might be small, but the fact of the matter is, all too often we're not listening. And that's the true danger of complacency in this world. I "know" I can be encouraged, emboldened by God to face the world's problems, but right now, honestly, I haven't accepted it. There's still fear. There's still doubt. Right now I'm just trying to rebuild this relationship (again) and re-learn what it means to be loved by God. DANG that's hard.
I feel like I learned some sort of "scary" things about myself this week. I think my future connection to Japan is a little scary. I'm not sure what it is, but as I've said and heard said about me, I'm not done here. I don't know what that means yet. It's scary to think about. But if I can remember God's love...well, it's always gonna work out. Some may call it false optimism, but I'm not convinced. And I do know Jesus is my savior.
Woof. This is getting to be a bit much for me again. So. Until next time (hopefully I'll have pictures of something)...chew on that.
Mata-ne.
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