Past walls

With finesse, we weave in and out of masses of fast-moving people in the maze of subways that criss-cross the Tokyo area. It’s always a serious eye-foot coordination feat (with luggage in tow, no less) to zigzag through those stations without whacking a purposed Japanese business-man or -woman. And, escalators rank up there in need for skill as well, even without suitcases but especially with: both me and my luggage have to get on two moving stairs right next to each other, both of us hugging the left side of the tracks so hurried walkers can move past us on the right. I’ve got that pretty well figured out now, except for that first day when I arrived to Japan from Hong Kong. In HK, we stand on the right and walk up or down on the left…in Japan it’s the opposite. In both places, cars drive on the left side of the road. I don’t know the whys in it all, but I learn and conform, at least in this. I can’t do anything about my bright red hair, but I can keep the flow of traffic moving in these public transit areas!

Japan is the most ordered and principled place I’ve ever visited. I have been reminded quite a few times these few days in Japan that I don’t know what I’m doing (or that I come from a much less ordered culture, depending on if I pick up shame from the experience or not).

In Starbucks, if every table is occupied, you’re to go to the end of the nice, neat line and wait till an employee seats you – in turn, of course. I was ready to get myself a table (i.e. hawkingly watch for a finished customer and rush toward a table that was opening up, like I would do in China), till the helpful woman gestured and told me in Japanese that I needed to go to the end of the line and wait my turn.

There are good reasons for all of these kinds of unspoken rules, and the mechanics of life function nicely when you obey them. I realize, though, that I need a little grace margin in my own heart’s allowance, as a foreigner still figuring out how to live out honor in this nation.

Don’t place your suitcase or bags on the tatami mat floors that cover most bedroom floors in Japan. Slippers off on those floors, too, I think. Burnable trash goes in the burnables bins. Plastic anything, including food wrappers without food on them, go in plastics for recycling (but if you’re unable to clean the food-stuff off, put it with burnables). Milk or juice cartons get cut up exactly according to the little picture on the box, and recylced accordingly. (They have a brilliantly efficient and space-saving trash system, necessary for this small, island nation.) Don’t talk on your phone on trains or buses. Sit on your seat on the train with your legs together, so that you only inhabit a seat space the size of your bottom. Eat every grain of rice out of your bowl, so as to honor the hard work of the rice farmers. Learn to bow like a woman (hands folded nicely in front of me, and bowing from the waist) in order to greet, show honor, respect and thanksgiving. Turn off and unplug the kerosine space heaters when you leave the room.

I watch Katie, Jon and others around me, picking up little cultural tips that when employed enough become habitual and will eventually enable me to function here on deeper levels than just the practical. I’ve got a month here this time, so there’s plenty of time for this.

I’m learning which drinks from the vending machines I like (i.e. cans of hot coffee without sugar added, or our new favorite, green tea with a shot of espresso added), which meals I enjoy from the 7-11 convenience stores (don’t knock it till you try it in Japan!), and how to read charicatured pictures for instructions where there is no English translation. I’m picking up Japanese words that will be helpful for me, as well: nishi (west), higashi (east), sei rei-sama (Holy Spirit), karage (fried chicken), arigato gozaimas (thank you), sumimasen (excuse me).

I love the cross-cultural. And I love getting familiar enough with living inside another culture that I can begin to have energy to earn trust and eventually get let in past walls around the hearts of the people, my ultimate goal being Jesus flooding in, unhindered, with His tender and fiery love. In Hong Kong, for instance, I’ve begun to see walls fall down and hungry hearts receive love, and these stories are mirrors reflecting back to me my very own. This is my joy. This is what I want to do with my life. This is what I do.