ARCHIVED
To my beloved Brannens,
As I was sitting in my chair having devotions I watched the
reflection of the sun rising in the window. The sun was just appearing shining
through the trees, which gave me an accurate view of its speed in relationship
to a stationary object. I could physically watch it move and was again
impressed with its amazing speed. When the sun is straight over head you don’t
have the perception that it is traveling at over 1,000 miles per hour – but it
is.
Years ago, when I lived in Karuizawa, I built myself a
prayer tower where I used to go ever morning to meet with the Lord. That was
the closest thing to heaven I have ever known on this earth. My house on the
hill in Karuizawa was unquestionably the finest property in Japan. To the west
I could see five ranges of the Japan Alps and in the early morning there
usually was a fog blanket over the town of Karuizawa. Looking down on that
morning fog was exactly like flying over the clouds, but with the mountains off
to the west and the early morning rays of the sun rising in the east gave a
dimensions that I have never experienced anywhere else. The stillness of the
morning air with the sounds of the birds filled me with an awesome presence of
God. How often my heart was filled with the verse, “Who is she that looketh
forth as the morning…?”(Song 0f Sol. 6:10); and the answer was self-evident –
the Bride of Christ. Morning after morning I used to go out there to commune
with the Lord as the earth was awaking, with all the scent of freshness and the
reality that everything was waiting out in front. As the sun races through its
course each phase of the day is different. That morning stillness can’t last
forever, noon comes, afternoon wears on, and finally evening. With all the
labor of the day behind it is a different time of reflection as we used to sit
outside and watch the evening sunset. The morning is marked by future tense and
the evening is characterized by past tense. You simply wait there as the sun
goes down until it gets dark. But there is no question which is the most
colorful. The lower the sun gets the deeper the crimson sky – and then it is
over. When the Lord turns the lights off the day is over; but then a new world
comes on stage and things that we couldn’t see in the daylight dominate the
night sky. This cycle that the Lord enacts for us every 24 hours is certainly a
graphic picture of our transient journey.
With little news from you all I can only speculate as to
where you are in your course, but I believe it is probably safe to say that the
evening sky is growing redder. For some this is a depressing time who have a
longing to borrow Hezekiah’s sun dial and make the clock turn backwards, but
only the foolish would think that way. God has His schedule and though it may be
a kaleidoscope of images, yet each one is important. The evening is probably
the most mysterious as it frequently holds the greatest questions – some of
which God makes no attempt to answer. Cliff Barrows visited Corey Ten Boon when
she was laid aside and she asked, “Why does the Lord make me lie here like
this, where I can’t do a thing and yet He doesn’t take me home?” Cliff did the
best he could to take a stab at that question and suggested that perhaps the
Lord is preparing us to enjoy eternity more. I don’t know. That may be as good
an answer as any, but I’m sure there must be a better one. I think I told you
in my last letter that Sigrid Riddle finally got her call to leave. My
goodness, what a wait! But anyway you cut it, when we wake up in eternity we
will find ourselves in a new world such as we have never seen here. And then
the question can be asked again, “Who is she that looketh forth as the
morning…?” as we realize the dawn of eternity has just begun.
If you remember that silly little poem I wrote a couple
years ago, If I Was A Ningen; about a third the way through I said, “My
summer’s now over, the fruit’s gone from the tree…”. In one sense that is true
but it is no comfort to me that the sun still seems to be so high in the sky.
When your hours of labor were completed you still had a lovely Indian Summer
that lasted for nearly twenty years. But my autumn is a lonely one. My life is
to work. No work is death to me. Fortunately there are a few small jobs that
the Lord has provided for me here that gives me some marginal justification to
be retained on the pay roll, but there seems to be such long gaps between
anything significant. This is one of those times. The needs in SEA
weigh heavy on my heart but there is very little I can – and am doing – to help
that situation. I have got to stay here until I can make enough money to get
solvent after my last escapade and to try to store up enough for another run
south. The plight of the American POWs in Laos is on my heart daily but it is
easy to join the rest of the world is saying, “They have been there 27 years
already and there is nothing anyone can do for them. Shigata ga nai.” It may be
impossible but I cannot say shikata ga nai. I am planning my next trip now,
which will probably be in November when I want to try the impossible. I’m
afraid it will be like trying to climb Mt. Fuji with a wheel chair in a
snowstorm, but I want to at least have the satisfaction of being able to say I
did everything that I could. My hope is, one of these trips south will be my
last one and I won’t come back. There is very little here in Japan to justify
my presence and at least I might be able to do something a little unusual in
Laos.
But in the mean time I must keep my hand with a firm grip on
the plow and stay with it day in and day out. It may seem strange to you but my
thoughts frequently drift east over the Pacific to Washington where I sit on
the porch with my dear friends the Brannens and watch the evening shy. Needless
to say, I love you all dearly;
In
our soon coming Lord Jesus,
