I realized today that I've been in Japan now for a week. I have already been incredibly blessed by the amazing faithfulness of the Lord and there are a few things I will need to make updates about soon:
My trip to Meiji Temple in Yoyogi Park.
My first experience with Mustard Seed.
The way I think I'll be blessed through challenges with my new job.
Hopefully, I'll be able to get to at least two of these topics this weekend.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Friday, January 6, 2012
Sakura House 101, 1-12-8 Kosuge, Katsusika-ku, Tokyo 124-0001
Wow. I'm sorry I haven't been able to get to this before, but I just bought a power converter from the "hyaku en" shop for my laptop today.
Oh, in case you don't know what I'm talking about, let me fill you in:
I'm in Japan.
I started typing out a detailed explanation of everything I've done since I've been here, but decided that there was something else I wanted to talk about instead. If you want more minute details of my life that I'm trying to get used to, I would love to talk to you about it. Skype is probably the best way to reach me (Skype: robert.bolgeo) but here, in this medium, there's something else I want to express.
When I first landed in Japan, I knew that I would have to take the train to get to the head office for the company from whom I'm renting a room. I brought my iPhone with me to use as a wifi device in Japan, so that I would be able to get around and wouldn't get too terribly lost, but that didn't work. For some reason, my phone wouldn't work on the wifi connection in japan, so I was in the airport trying to figure out where I was supposed to go, and maybe, if I'd slept at all the night before, or even on the flight (but I couldn't) I would have been able to better reason, but in the state I was in (in the country I was in) I had a mini panic.
Something I've mostly forgotten about, but remember in times like this, is that when I was a kid, shortly after I moved to Fairview from Memphis, I suffered from minor anxiety issues. I mean, it wasn't anything serious, I was never put on medication for it, but sometimes when I'd go out around large groups of people or sometimes randomly I would have mini anxiety attacks. Sometimes I still feel that way, like, the first time I went to Disney Land, and the first time I went to a concert in LA, but for the most part I'm really easy going about things, and get excited by the prospect of doing something new. Still, the fact remains that I can be overtaken by anxiety at times, and its something I've spent a lot of time and prayer dealing with so I know a little better how to handle it now. I was on the verge when I wasn't sure how I would get from the airport to my new home, but, at the same time, I felt like everything was okay.
Something I read today: "The Spirit of glory and of God rests on you"
When I read this I thought about how much that Spirit weighs, I thought about, so to speak, the weight of glory (which I shouldn't reference seeing as though I haven't read that book yet). Thinking now, about my near anxiety attack in the airport I can't help but remember that weird weight of the counter-anxiety, that feeling that everything was okay that was as foreign to me as I was to this country. So when I stumbled across this phrase in my reading I couldn't shake it. Only now, I'm thinking about what this means moving forward. What does this mean as I try and make an impact here?
Something else I read today: Foundation and salvation
Already, I've gone through so many things here that maybe I should be freaking out about, but I feel the sturdiness of my foundation (which is Jesus Christ) and the strength of what has been built on it (which would be the prayers and support of friends and family). I think in the next few weeks I'm going to see some of the fire that refines. I hope that when it comes I'm not too stubborn, or ignorant, or lazy to see what it burns and seek to repair it properly.
Before I close out this entry I want to write down a thought I had shortly after leaving the airport. After my almost-anxiety in the airport, I decided to take whatever train was going towards the city I knew I had to get to in order to pick up my keys. I was so excited to take my first train ride in Japan, I almost didn't care if it got me where I was supposed to go or not. However, by the time I got on the train, it was already dark outside, or at least, it was getting darker. The trains are lit inside, though, and they stay pretty bright, so the darker it gets outside the brighter the inside seems to get, until you almost can't see outside anymore because the light reflects the inside of the train, making windows more like mirrors. There are two things I thought about this.
First, I want to be like the train that is so bright on the inside that the darkness outside is nearly invisible. I don't have much to say about this, except I'm afraid I'll never have the sort of illumination necessary. I'm afraid I'll try to hold on to some of that darkness out of a perverse sense of self-preservation, making the light seem dimmer.
Second, as I looked at the window turned mirror I thought about how strange it was to be looking out towards Japan but to only be able to see myself. I was so clearly superimposed over all the buildings that it was as though they barely existed. So I thought about all the ways I've already been doing that. How have I been taking Japan away and putting myself in its place? The answers are humiliating; humbling. I don't remember if I've mentioned this story before, but even if I have, this seems like a good spot to reiterate it (and I'm not too worried about redundancy): When I was an orientation leader for Biola some of us took a spiritual retreat in order to prepare ourselves for the new students and in order to center ourselves before we had to give so much in service. While we were there we met with a student from the Institute of Spiritual Formation who taught us an interesting way to pray. She taught us about the idea of mantras. The idea is to create a name for God, one that has a lot of meaning to you, then to express a need. My mantra is something I've been trying to live ever since the moment I made it that day. Sometimes I'll go a while without saying it, but I don't think I'll ever forget it, because I don't think I'll ever stop needing it:
"Good Father, teach me to serve."
That's been my ardent prayer since I arrived. I came here to serve, but sometimes I don't know how to do that. Sometimes I can't look past my face in the mirror long enough to realize that it wasn't a mirror at all but a window; a window looking out on people who need to feel the Spirit of glory and of God rest, people who need foundations and building materials, people who need to be served.
So pray with me.
Oh, in case you don't know what I'm talking about, let me fill you in:
I'm in Japan.
I started typing out a detailed explanation of everything I've done since I've been here, but decided that there was something else I wanted to talk about instead. If you want more minute details of my life that I'm trying to get used to, I would love to talk to you about it. Skype is probably the best way to reach me (Skype: robert.bolgeo) but here, in this medium, there's something else I want to express.
When I first landed in Japan, I knew that I would have to take the train to get to the head office for the company from whom I'm renting a room. I brought my iPhone with me to use as a wifi device in Japan, so that I would be able to get around and wouldn't get too terribly lost, but that didn't work. For some reason, my phone wouldn't work on the wifi connection in japan, so I was in the airport trying to figure out where I was supposed to go, and maybe, if I'd slept at all the night before, or even on the flight (but I couldn't) I would have been able to better reason, but in the state I was in (in the country I was in) I had a mini panic.
Something I've mostly forgotten about, but remember in times like this, is that when I was a kid, shortly after I moved to Fairview from Memphis, I suffered from minor anxiety issues. I mean, it wasn't anything serious, I was never put on medication for it, but sometimes when I'd go out around large groups of people or sometimes randomly I would have mini anxiety attacks. Sometimes I still feel that way, like, the first time I went to Disney Land, and the first time I went to a concert in LA, but for the most part I'm really easy going about things, and get excited by the prospect of doing something new. Still, the fact remains that I can be overtaken by anxiety at times, and its something I've spent a lot of time and prayer dealing with so I know a little better how to handle it now. I was on the verge when I wasn't sure how I would get from the airport to my new home, but, at the same time, I felt like everything was okay.
Something I read today: "The Spirit of glory and of God rests on you"
When I read this I thought about how much that Spirit weighs, I thought about, so to speak, the weight of glory (which I shouldn't reference seeing as though I haven't read that book yet). Thinking now, about my near anxiety attack in the airport I can't help but remember that weird weight of the counter-anxiety, that feeling that everything was okay that was as foreign to me as I was to this country. So when I stumbled across this phrase in my reading I couldn't shake it. Only now, I'm thinking about what this means moving forward. What does this mean as I try and make an impact here?
Something else I read today: Foundation and salvation
Already, I've gone through so many things here that maybe I should be freaking out about, but I feel the sturdiness of my foundation (which is Jesus Christ) and the strength of what has been built on it (which would be the prayers and support of friends and family). I think in the next few weeks I'm going to see some of the fire that refines. I hope that when it comes I'm not too stubborn, or ignorant, or lazy to see what it burns and seek to repair it properly.
Before I close out this entry I want to write down a thought I had shortly after leaving the airport. After my almost-anxiety in the airport, I decided to take whatever train was going towards the city I knew I had to get to in order to pick up my keys. I was so excited to take my first train ride in Japan, I almost didn't care if it got me where I was supposed to go or not. However, by the time I got on the train, it was already dark outside, or at least, it was getting darker. The trains are lit inside, though, and they stay pretty bright, so the darker it gets outside the brighter the inside seems to get, until you almost can't see outside anymore because the light reflects the inside of the train, making windows more like mirrors. There are two things I thought about this.
First, I want to be like the train that is so bright on the inside that the darkness outside is nearly invisible. I don't have much to say about this, except I'm afraid I'll never have the sort of illumination necessary. I'm afraid I'll try to hold on to some of that darkness out of a perverse sense of self-preservation, making the light seem dimmer.
Second, as I looked at the window turned mirror I thought about how strange it was to be looking out towards Japan but to only be able to see myself. I was so clearly superimposed over all the buildings that it was as though they barely existed. So I thought about all the ways I've already been doing that. How have I been taking Japan away and putting myself in its place? The answers are humiliating; humbling. I don't remember if I've mentioned this story before, but even if I have, this seems like a good spot to reiterate it (and I'm not too worried about redundancy): When I was an orientation leader for Biola some of us took a spiritual retreat in order to prepare ourselves for the new students and in order to center ourselves before we had to give so much in service. While we were there we met with a student from the Institute of Spiritual Formation who taught us an interesting way to pray. She taught us about the idea of mantras. The idea is to create a name for God, one that has a lot of meaning to you, then to express a need. My mantra is something I've been trying to live ever since the moment I made it that day. Sometimes I'll go a while without saying it, but I don't think I'll ever forget it, because I don't think I'll ever stop needing it:
"Good Father, teach me to serve."
That's been my ardent prayer since I arrived. I came here to serve, but sometimes I don't know how to do that. Sometimes I can't look past my face in the mirror long enough to realize that it wasn't a mirror at all but a window; a window looking out on people who need to feel the Spirit of glory and of God rest, people who need foundations and building materials, people who need to be served.
So pray with me.
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