One of the original objectives for our 10-day missions trip had always been to encourage missionaries and Japanese Christians by meeting with them and praying for them. The triple disaster of March 11th didn’t change this, other than to cause us to allocate more of our time in Kyoto than originally planned, in part due to concerns over radiation in the northern part of Japan.
The bulk of our trip was spent in prayer appointments. These are sacred moments in which people confess their burdens, their pains, and their wounds, and we come alongside them, bringing it all before God, and remind them of God’s truth about them: that they are loved, that they are His children, that they are forgiven in Christ, that they are a new creation. Discouragement comes when we forget these truths and fall for the lies of Satan, the adversary, who tells us that we’re not good enough, that God would never forgive sins as heinous as ours, that what we’re doing is not worth the effort.
Those who receive prayer are at their most vulnerable, and in order to provide them with a safe environment, our prayer team guaranteed confidentiality. Nothing that anyone shares during a prayer session leaves the room, unless they themselves share it. It’s for this reason that I can’t discuss details about this part of our trip, other than to say that it became very evident why God called us Japan, where the missionaries and the Japanese Christians we met needed some encouragement.
Our team of ten split into smaller teams, each one with a Japanese-speaking member, and we would cover four or five prayer sessions per day. With each one, God knit my heart closer to the people of Japan.
If I didn’t have a heart for Japan before, I was growing one now.
We were staying at a business hotel in Nara, and one morning, I came upon the following passage during my devotional time:
Oh, my dear children! I feel as if I’m going through labor pains for you again, and they will continue until Christ is fully developed in your lives. I wish I were with you right now so I could change my tone. But at this distance I don’t know how else to help you. (Galatians 4:19-20 New Living Translation)
There are times when I read the Bible and a verse hits like a gong in my chest, reverberating throughout my entire being. This was definitely one of those times.
I felt that tug, that uncomfortable gnawing feeling that I’d rather not have.
I knew that God was calling me to stay longer in Japan.
—–
When our time in Kyoto ended, we went to Kyoto Station to board the bullet train back to Tokyo to see if we could serve with CRASH, a disaster-relief organization.
I was waiting near the escalator at the station when I noticed a Westerner standing not too far away from me and felt this nudge to go talk to him. I prayed about it and heard in my spirit, “Go ask him if his name is John.”
“Nah, that’s kind of weird,” I countered. “We’re at a train station, I’m in a different country, I don’t know if that’d be acceptable here,” etc… I was trying to negotiate my way out of a prompting of the Holy Spirit, as I have been prone to do.
“C’mon. Go ask him if his name is John. Just walk up to him and say ‘excuse me, are you John?’ If he says no, all you need to do is apologize and say you thought he was someone else you were supposed to meet. Go on, try it.”
I hesitated for a moment.
“Nah, that’d still be weird.” I glanced over at this person to scope him out. He was alone, in his mid-30s, and had fear written all over his face.
Our gazes crossed. I said hello. He nodded in reply. I resolved to at least go over and talk to him.
He told me that he was in Tokyo during the earthquake and had gone down to Kyoto with his wife to get as far away from Fukushima as they could. They were now on their way back to Tokyo to catch a flight to the U.S., where he was from.
After chatting for a few minutes, I introduced myself and said, “By the way, I’m Stephen.”
He extended a handshake, smiled nervously, and replied.
“I’m John.”
The whole “what-if” scenario ran through my mind: if only I had obeyed the promptings of the Holy Spirit, John might have been blown away that I knew his name, he’d ask how I knew, I’d tell him that God really wanted him to know how much He cares about him, I’d lead him and his wife to salvation and baptize them at the water fountain, etc.
But since God is still in control, I needed to trust that this was playing out exactly as it needed to: a teammate later mentioned that John might have been freaked out if I had gone up to him and called out his name cold, as John was already fearful as it was.
After John told me where he was headed, he asked me where I was off to, often glancing at my cross necklace and “hope” T-shirt. I pointed out my teammates and explained that we were heading up to Tokyo to serve with the relief effort.
He lit up– something had been stirred in him. “Wow, that’s great!” he said. His wife, who was Japanese, came by and John excitedly introduced me to her. “These guys are going up to Tokyo to help with the relief effort!” She glanced at my T-shirt, read “hope” out loud, smiled at me, and said “Thank you.”
I had been hoping for a chance to offer to pray for him, but since they had to go, I could only tell him that I’d pray for them to have safe travels. They thanked me and we parted at the train station.
Why would God give me John’s name and nudge me to speak to him?
Prophesying is a spiritual gift (1 Cor. 14:1), given by the Holy Spirit as He determines (1 Cor. 12:11) for the common good (v. 7). It’s not meant to be spooky, creepy, or condemning, but rather, strengthening, encouraging, and comforting (1 Cor. 14:3). Perhaps the Lord wanted to encourage and comfort John and his wife during a time of great fear and uncertainty, and He was asking me to deliver the message.
This encounter taught me not to be afraid to take a risk when the Holy Spirit moves you. The only thing I had to lose by asking a stranger what his name is was my dignity, and that all boils down to pride. I also learned that sharing God’s love with people doesn’t always require words– in this case, our witness to John and his wife might have simply been the ministry of presence: we were there in Japan when many others were trying to leave, and we were heading into Tokyo when many others were heading out.
If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. (1 Corinthians 13:2 NIV)
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