Here I am again playing with my computer. You are the only
one I write letters to so I am taking the liberty to experiment on you. I have
had one week living in my life center and love it more than anticipated.
When we were living in Karuizawa and the boys got old enough
for a swing I decided to build a super swing for them. I cut down three tall
spruce trees on our property, dug a six-foot hole for each one and set them in concrete.
That left about 25’ sticking above the ground. I went up 12-15’ and fastened a
ring of logs around them for the crossbars for the swing. It seemed mottainai
not to build something up there so I decided to build a tree hut for the boys.
But as I got into it, the structure got more elaborate and it finally wound up
being a prayer tower for their dad. I was so enthralled with that fabulous
prayer perch that I dedicated it to the Lord and vowed I would never do
anything up there that was not sanctified. If I wanted to allow myself the
luxury of some sinful thinking I would put it off until I got down, but I would
never entertain any thoughts that were not devoted to the Lord while I was up
there meeting with Jesus. Every morning at dawn I would take my Bible or some
Christian book and go up to my prayer tower to meet with my Lord, and as long
as I lived there I never had a time when the Lord didn’t graciously meet with
me. Through this experience I developed a theory of sanctifying some area for
devotions. In my study of Ezekiel’s Temple
This morning was my turn to preach and I had a miserable
time. It is hard to reconcile what we profess of the presence of the Holy
Spirit with the deadness of the meeting. If, in deed, the Lord was there we
should be on our faces worshiping with burning hearts. We were nearly on our
faces all right, but it was because of drowsiness as the listeners couldn’t
keep their eyes open. How I detest this religion! We go through the formality
of saying the things we should but there is a dearth of reality in our worship.
This morning I had a grand audience of three – two of which were asleep most of
the time. You should have seen the nodding heads – but it was not because of
agreement with the message. It was so bad I couldn’t look at them but had to
look off into space and act like I was talking over the radio to an invisible
audience. The one that did stay awake was Mrs. Onodera. I was amazed that she
seemed to be taking constant notes and ironically later – for the first time in
months – she thanked me for the message and said she was refreshed by it. I
don’t know how to figure that out but to me it was as mechanical as playing a
tape or reading a book. My text this morning was John 11, the resurrection of
Lazarus. I had a grand time meeting with the Lord preparing that message. At
times it seemed like I was in that home in Bethany Bethany
I remember the morning my dad died. He had a heart
attack the night of my graduation from high school. It was very serious and he
had been in the hospital for a month. My mother seemed to have a premonition
that the end had come and went down to the hospital early that morning. She
called back around 8:00 AM to tell my
sister and me that dad was dying and come immediately. When we got there the
scene was unreal. Somehow everyone knew what was happening but there was
nothing you could do. It was Sunday morning and dad was pleading to get the
doctor as soon as possible. The nurses were calling but it would be some time
before Dr. Johnson would arrive. I couldn’t handle it and went into an empty
room next to his. A few minutes later, my mother came in to get me and asked if
I wanted to be with dad as he was going. I was numb. I couldn’t move. Mom and
my sister wanted to be with him but ten minutes later the nurses brought them
back as they couldn’t handle it either. We just stood there in mute silence for
fifteen minutes listening to the groans through the wall until the nurse came
in to tell us it was over. That was my introduction to death.
Surely it must have been some hideous scene like that when
our Lord was executed in such an indescribable fashion. For Mary, Martha, and
Lazarus this would have been worse than the end of the world. As I thought
about their experience I went numb. But then three days later…. The realities
of these experiences eclipse our ability to assimilate them. All that was
before the coming of the Holy Spirit. Now the very Spirit of Jesus has come to
live with us. If that isn’t enough to ignite our hearts I don’t know what
would. Sometimes that seems so real I tremble having devotions, but then I try
to describe that to our little congregation and watch their heads go down with dressiness.
What a ridiculous letter! But that is the way I felt this
morning trying to describe such earth shaking realities to two drowsy men and
one lady taking notes. And this is supposed to be church?!
I’ll send this off again by E-mail as a test but lick a
stamp so you can see the pretty color.
Please give my regards to our Elder Brother Jesus, who lives
with you there.
From Japan
