Makoto's Story

 Good Morning, 

Today is Australia day, which looks a lot like America’s 4th of July Weekend, in that it’s the middle of summer here, it’s a 3-day weekend, and there’s lots of sports and barbeques going on. To add to the fun, we’re in the middle of a scorching heatwave.  

As I watch the kids enjoying the pool (I’ve heard that 75% of all Australians have pools ), I have to remind myself that we are so glad to live here, even though it’s true that we'll always be immigrants (legal, of course as swimming an ocean is a rather difficult way to get to a border)  There are many similarities to America, which we love, and some quite different things as well, which we also love.  As dual citizens (passports for both countries), we’re subject to the rules and regulations for both countries, such as taxes and the like.

But I'm not here to talk about that today. As I mentioned the heat this last week, I'm sitting in my office in front of the air conditioner, trying to remember how cold I was not so long ago, just a few weeks past, in Japan.

Something happened that I stored away as just one of the blessings we received, and now I'd like to share it with you. But first let me give you the "Back Story' as the young people say today.

When Makoto first started coming to church and then to my house, he was about 6 years old. His mother and father were fairly strong Buddhists. I have no doubt that they allowed Makoto to spend time with us in order to broaden his 'education'.   My son, Trevor, met him in Sunday school and it wasn’t long before they were fast friends, joined in due course by two more boys the same age. 

I'll never forget the first time he came into the foyer of our house, taking off his shoes and bowing nearly to the floor.  His eyes were as big as saucers and peeled back in disbelief. I think he was probably expecting some sort of 'foreign devil' to jump out and grab him.  

He soon realized that all the dire warnings he’d heard about foreigners were not true … probably. We had good snacks and since we lived in the same neighbourhood, Makoto, along with the other two friends, bonded. It wasn’t long before all three were coming to our house every Saturday night, playing games with Trevor and as would be expected, tormenting little brother Nathan. 

On Sunday, the whole gaggle of boys would make their way to church, which was about a 15 minute walk, filled with lots of boy-flavoured adventures.   Tony and I were connected to several other churches on a rotating basis, so usually we weren’t able to join them. Holidays were non-stop revelries, with never a dull moment.  These three boys grew up to be Trevor’s absolute best friends … ever!  I guess we shouldn’t have been surprised when we got home after Trevor’s funeral, Makoto came up to me and said, “So we’ll see you on Saturday!”

“Uh…” I started, “You realize that Trevor died, right?”

“Yes of course,” he said, “but can we come anyway?”

And so the wild rumpus continued. I got a lump in my throat as I watched them still “tormenting” Nathan; only now, even more than before, it was all in love. They knew what we had not yet figured out, that Nathan NEEDED those older boys, now, especially with Trevor gone. The weekly visits continued for several more years, until they all went away to college. We stayed in touch, and we still see them on and off thru the years.  On a happy note, Makoto's mother finally became a Christian and is a lovely asset to the church community.  Friends Katsuya and Jun, along with Makoto, are all very committed Christians and maintain roles in ministry.

But what Makoto said to me on this last visit in December reminded me once again that God has our lives and connections all spelled out to the Nth degree in His Book.

We'd taken the grandkids to the church where Trevor's ashes are, as the grandboys had never been there. The urn is placed neatly on a shelf with his picture next to it. As we were standing there, looking at the pictures of several other friends whose ashes have now joined Trevor’s in the "Noh Kotsu Doh" (as the crypt is called), Mokoto told me something I’d never heard before. Nodding towards the picture, he said, 

"Once I was here on the anniversary of his death and I heard him speaking as if he were standing here with me.  He said, "Hey, Makoto, you need to become a pastor."

"No!" I said, "I've just graduated in the top of my class as a Special Ed teacher.  I'm 24 and my life is ahead of me! "

"No, Japan needs you as a pastor."

So, Makoto never took that first job; and instead went straight to Seminary. After graduating, he took over the same church where they all grew up and has been there now for the last 20+ years. Of course, he's not just that, but also very active in Baptist Convention leadership, teaches the Bible in an esteemed high school, and after marrying his childhood sweetheart from Church, together they’re raising their son, who's now a young man himself.  

He's always made us proud, as well as the other two who keep in touch even though they’re scattered across Japan, raising families and serving God.   But digesting this new information, I just had to remember, as the old Gospel singer said, “He's got the whole world in his hands."

Have a great weekend and try to recall similar stories you may have heard. And then please, share them with me.

Now I have to get back to the festivities of the day. It won’t be long, I’m sure, until someone … probably a fellow immigrant like myself … is going to shout out the familiar cheer in which we all must take part, "Ausie Ausie Ausie, Oi Oi Oi!!!"   

Marsha