Former Enemies, New Brothers

 With Memorial Day just around the corner, I'd like to tell you a story about someone most of us would have considered 'the enemy'.

His name was Kojima and he was a Japanese soldier.  He was rough and brutish, the perfect stereotype of those killing machines we knew either from actual experience or the war campaigns that were popular at the time.

He had a wife.  It had been an arranged marriage, and he pretty much hated her.  But the feeling was mutual, and as she stayed behind in the home of her in-laws, she was forced to gather with them every morning before the family shrine and pray for his safety. On the outside, she was the obedient wife, but in her heart as they prayed, she always murmured under her breath, “Let him be killed, and make it painful.”

But we didn't know Kojima then.  We only met him as he and his wife were volunteer custodians at our first church in Yokohama.

He was sitting with MY father, also a veteran, eating watermelon and praising God together.

This is his story as he told it to us,

"I was a soldier.  I hated life and everyone I knew, enemy or ally. I knew nothing else.   We were in the last battle in Saipan and when it looked like all was lost, a few fellow soldiers and I escaped to the jungle where we hid out.”

Then he continued, “We did that for about two years.

The American Allies occupied Saipan and built a base near the jungle. But we found that we could sneak out to the edge of the undergrowth and watch them. We talked about storming the place with a glorious banzai charge, but with only bamboo sticks for weapons, we realized it would probably be futile.  

So instead, we often gathered beneath the cover of leaves and watched movies that the GI's projected up on a big outdoor screen. Of course, we couldn't understand (or hear) the English, but we watched diligently.  Every night.

Our favourite was Daffy Duck and we had to be careful not to laugh too loud, as we didn't want to expose our secret hiding place.

Finally, one day, I told my friends, ‘I don’t think those guys are as vicious as we’ve been taught. I’m starving. They might eat me anyway, but I’m going down there tomorrow and turn myself in. 

As promised, I stepped out the jungle the next morning and walked toward the base, my hands in the air. I was alone. But as I gritted my teeth, expecting bullets, a couple of guys sauntered out, said a few words I couldn’t understand, and led me into a tent where I had my first hot meal in two years. 

The American soldiers were surprisingly kind. I learned eventually that one was a Christian, and he went out of this way to try and communicate with me. One day, they gave me a stack of fliers, saying in Japanese that the war was over and my friends should come out. Sadly, they just couldn’t believe me no matter how I tried, and they never did.”  

Here he paused with a faraway look and said sadly, “I’ll always wonder what happened to them.” 

Kojima sat at our table for a long time, not saying anything. 

Finally he began again.

"One of the soldiers I mentioned already got better at communicating. He told me one that that he believed in Jesus, but that was a name I’d never heard before.  All I knew for sure was that this solider knew peace and joy like I had never experienced.” 

Meanwhile, Kojima’s wife back in Japan was rejoicing that her husband was finally reported "Missing and presumed dead." She began to hope against hope that her prayers had been answered.  

Postwar Japan was a difficult place to be, and just to get out of the oppressive home environment, she began to meet with some ladies in her street.  They told her of a new found faith in Jesus, Someone who loved her.

She'd never been loved in her life, but she enjoyed being with these ladies, and as the weeks continued, she found her thoughts beginning to change.  She began to pray, not to Buddha, but to Jesus and to her surprise, felt a peace she had never known before. Imagine her surprise as her heart began to change toward her husband and she found herself praying for his safety!

And then one day, she looked up to see him standing in the door.

The shock and relief struck both of them and they found themselves in each other's arms.  Almost immediately, they both saw the change that had come over each other and finally realized that difference was Jesus. 

When we came to Japan and got to know them, they were in their late 70's and seemed to be madly in love.  He drove a taxi and every day when his shift ended, she would join him and they would go all over Tokyo, exploring and talking about the Lord's goodness. 

Watching my father share a watermelon with Kojima around our table, I began to see a power at work that I had only spoken about but had never experienced personally. Here were two men the same age and former enemies, men who would have killed each other on sight just a few years earlier. It was the Power of God, up close and personal.

Have a great "Memorial Day", remembering all those people who have sacrificed their lives for our freedoms and the right to worship the One who loves us all.

Marsha