What motivates you to do what you do in the name of Jesus?

<< Continued from the previous episode

No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us. (1 John 4:12 NIV)

May 2015.

It was my last tai chi class–my last ministry visit–at “Hilltop” kasetsu, the temporary housing complex that had once been a tough place to serve at. It was the home of a once-disruptive woman I nicknamed “Tape-Face” because she literally had strips of cellophane tape on her face.

She stopped being disruptive a few months before this last visit and had even begun to groan in agreement with points in the messages I gave, not unlike a congregant zealously “amen-ing” to a Sunday sermon. Like clockwork, she would always arrive at the meeting hall right after the tai chi class was over and right before it was time for one of us missionaries to share a message.

I believed that God was working in her and had been bringing her to these gatherings to hear more about Him.

I believed that God was working in all of the students who faithfully attended these monthly classes. They might have been resistant to any faith-based talk in the beginning, but they became increasingly receptive over time. There was even an instance when I decided that I wouldn’t give a message that month, as I worried that I had been coming on too strong with messages about Jesus: When that class was over and teatime drew to a close, I just sat at one end of the table, trying to pick up some of the language by listening in on the students’ conversations and looking up Japanese words on my dictionary phone app.

The chitchat died down. I glanced up to find the students turned in my direction. One of them said, “Sensei, aren’t you going to share a message today?”

They had been waiting for me to start.

Maybe they were just being considerate, as they knew that sharing messages was part of what I did, but in any case, things had come a long way at this kasetsu. I was sad to be leaving them.

When it came time to deliver my final message to these students, I thanked them for graciously welcoming my family into the city of Ofunato and allowing me to teach them tai chi. I recounted the story of how we ended up in Ofunato: how I dreamt about this city, received multiple confirmations to come, had God encourage me to pursue this by speaking through a license plate, miraculously provided the funding we needed to go to Japan, and opened up housing for us when everyone said that would be impossible.

I told my students that the God of the Universe had done all these things to send me to Ofunato to tell them how much Jesus loves them.

I told them that I hadn’t accomplished much during our two years in Japan. I failed to attain fluency in Japanese, and being unable to hold deep conversations with anyone, I was left with menial tasks like helping to set up or tear down after events, serve tea, drive visiting teams around, or teach things like clay sculpting and tai chi.

“I couldn’t do very much for you over these past two years,” I said to my students, through my translating teammate. “But whatever it is I did while I was here, it was an expression of God’s love for you.”

The students fell silent.

That’s when Tape Face started fidgeting with the tape on her face.

At least, that’s what I thought she was doing. I heard a sniffle.

She wasn’t adjusting the tape. She was wiping away tears.

This was one of the more emotional goodbyes I had as I went on my farewell tour of Ofunato, visiting the various kasetsu that I had regularly served at over two years. At each one, I shared the same basic message: that God had gone through the trouble of sending my family all the way to Ofunato because He loves them.

There were tears. There were laughs. There were hugs. There were gifts. Each kasetsu had its own way of wishing us well and sending us off, making each goodbye all the more memorable.

As part of my “farewell tour,” I wanted to say goodbye to several individuals who did not reside in any kasetsu.

On the top of my list: the apple farmer.

(To be continued)