Siyonara

It’s hard to know what to write as I sit here just hours away from flying away from Japan for what will probably be the last time. As someone to whom writing generally comes easily, this is a bit of a new sensation. How can I possibly capture the essence of the past two years in a short letter written to all of the people that I love who make it so difficult to leave this beautiful country. Perhaps it is too ambitious a task, but I only beg your pardon as I make the attempt.

I can remember a wide range of emotions as I boarded that plane in April of 2008. I was leaving the U.S. for the first time. I was starting my first real job that promised to make me an independent man. I was leaving everything that I knew and flying to a land of mystery. Who knew what lay ahead? I certainly did not.

I can remember landing in Japan after what seemed like days of flying. As I stumbled around the airport trying to get my bearings, the knots in my stomach wouldn’t go away. The drive from the airport to Yokosuka was one of awe. I had to take in as much as I possibly could. I don’t think I even considered sleeping.

When I arrived in Yokosuka, I was greeted warmly by my sponsor and got settled in quickly. Within days I had tried Japanese curry, seen beautiful cherry blossoms, gone through orientation, and learned that I would be playing in the jazz band and the rock band. Despite my warnings, I don’t think anyone in the band was prepared for the patience it would take to guide me in two very new styles of trumpet playing that couldn’t be farther from the classical training I received in college. Nonetheless, I was thrilled to be in Japan and excited to help out the band (if they didn’t fire me first!).

Within two weeks, the frustration began to build. I was learning that I didn’t know as much as I thought I did about life (or at least my leaders thought so) and I was constantly being corrected for everything I did wrong and everything that I failed to do right. Within 6 weeks of arriving, I was on a big, 643 foot-long Naval vessel that floated the admiral around the Far East. And I thought life was hard trying to play eighth notes short enough in rock band! Life on the ship was a huge stress. I hated it. I wanted to quit my job and never even think of picking up a trumpet again. I wanted to strangle almost everyone I worked with. By the end of the cruise, I was ready to snap.

The one glimmer of hope was a hospitality house that a couple of my coworkers had recommended I go to in order to meet some friends outside of the band. It didn’t take long upon walking through the doors of The Lighthouse that I felt at ease and that maybe, just maybe, life was looking up. I had found people who I could relate to and who genuinely cared about my burdens. But instead of sitting around to mope with me, they spoke of having a changed attitude that reflected the faith that I said I believed in. By the second or third week of sitting through a Bible study that I could not understand (I mean, they were talking about a guy named Melchizidek!) I realized that I needed to get serious about the faith that I had professed since I was a boy growing up in Nebraska. I can remember the walk back down to base and the Spirit of God stirring in my heart a desire to write a new blog entry. It was the beginning of a revival in my heart. It was a decision that I look back on with much fondness and amazement. It was the choice to begin following Jesus Christ like I actually believed what God’s Word said.

I could share countless stories of the experiences I’ve had since that crossroads, stories of the countless pages of notes I scribbled as I studied Scripture or listened to Jim preach a sermon on being a Kingdom seeker. Or stories of the trials that God was using to gradually give me a completely new perspective on life as Philippians 1:6 tells us He is faithful to do.

The bottom line is that I sit here writing this letter as a new man. Perhaps not just as a new man, but as a real man who stands for something greater than himself...who stands for the Truth.

In an age when everyone wants to share their version of truth and claim that there exists no absolutes in this universe, the evidence of a Creator and passionate Father remains and stands in undeniable contrast to the relativistic mindset of the masses. There is absolute truth. There is a loving God who desires us to know Him. I type these words with the tears that come with the acknowledgement that some who read this will never accept this truth and will never come to know the most glorious person to ever walk the face of the earth. As so many have done to their own peril, now many of my closest friends, colleagues, and family do so as well.

We humans are great at putting the thought of having to answer to anyone more significant than ourselves out of our minds. We ignore our consciences and douse the fiery conviction in our hearts with the empty promises of the world. We seek our own glory, our own pleasures, our own happiness. If we are honest, we will see that these things can NEVER offer true joy, contentment, and success in this life, and they certainly won’t usher us in to those things in the next life. Deep down, we all know this to be true because God has created us to know it. Yet, we struggle and cannot do anything about it.

The apostle Paul came to this realization and cries out in the book of Romans “Oh, wretched man that I am, who will save me from this body of death?” Who can save us from a miserable existence that will always turn up as vanity no matter how many good deeds we do, no matter how righteous we believe we are, no matter how many fantastic lies we embrace as truth? Only God can. But what could be sweeter than the promise of our Creator to restore order, to reconcile the sinner’s heart to his Master, to lavish His people with riches that are never tarnished and never fade?

So you see, I cannot take credit for the past two years. I cannot boast in being a good sailor or musician or friend or writer. Because I know myself all too well. I know who I would be living for if I had not decided correctly that this life is not about me. I never would have made any difference in the lives of those around me had I not acknowledged the One who gave me life and first loved me in spite of the evil in my heart.

And so I close this good bye with the only thing that seems to make any sense at all: The acknowledgement of my hopelessness apart from Jesus Christ and the indescribable joy that radiates from God’s grace as I seek to follow Him wherever He leads me.

In Philippians 2:1, 2, Paul writes:

So if there is any encouragement in Christ, any comfort from love, any participation in the Spirit, any affection and sympathy, complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind.

Allow me to change the context of this passage in order to make a plea to you. If you have been encouraged in any way from my life, if you have received any comfort from charity I’ve displayed, if you’ve seen any light shining from my face, if your trial has been met by compassion on my part...

It is only because of the Spirit of Jesus Christ who lives in me. Complete my joy by acknowledging His sovereign authority over your life and the farthest reaches of everything about you. Take God’s perspective as your own and begin living for Him. Brethren, continue to walk by the Spirit and seek Christ passionately.

I can think of no more fitting a way to end my time in Japan than by doing everything last thing I can to lift high the name of Jesus Christ as God’s Word brings with that a promise of drawing all men to Him who gives life freely to all who come and follow Him.

What a joy my time in Japan has been! What a transformation has occurred! What a Savior has overwhelmed me with His love and mercy!

Praise be to God, our Father, and to our Lord, Jesus Christ forever.