Changing lives

We were just four missionary kids, born and raised in Japan—kindergarten at Grant Heights, Narimasu; and the rest at Christian Academy (CAJ) in Tokyo. Then came college in the States. Not knowing where to go, we four just stuck together and ended up at the same college, in the same dorm quad, facing each other. We were scared stiff, in a new country we didn’t know anything about.

Every day was a new experience from figuring out how to use the telephone, to learning how to ride the bus and more. After a life in Japan we thought differently, laughed differently, and probably smelled different, too! But we were determined to become American.

Then, just as we were getting close to not sticking out too much, we got a call from home: the son of the local bike shop guy was in Los Angeles and needed help.

Without hesitation, we drove down and found him with car trouble. We fixed the car and put him up for a few days in our quad. Word got around and it seemed every time we wanted to take a shower there was a Japanese kid or two already having beaten us to it. Within a short time we were called into the office and informed that while the school was happy that we were helping Japanese in need, it was an educational institution and we could not continue.

Branching out on our own

So, we left the dorm and rented a tiny apartment near campus where anyone could come, and every Japanese kid in Los Angeles seemed to be sleeping on the living room floor. Homesick for Japan as we were, it was nice to have Japanese people there; along with their various problems they always brought food and all kinds of stuff from home.

One day we got a request from Chicago. A Japanese kid had been hurt and needed help.

What to do?

We checked around and found that a fellow graduate from CAJ was going to school in the Chicago area at Wheaton, so we called him and asked him to help.

By word of mouth it seemed Japanese were hearing about us and we began putting together a notebook of Japanese connections in various cities. Little by little the list turned into a database and things started going crazy.

One day it was three in the morning when we got a call from a very upset Japanese man.

“My car broke down on the highway—where are you?” he demanded.

We got up in the middle of the night and drove way out, almost to the desert. And there he was.

“What took you so long?” was his response.

Annoyed that there was no “thank you” or anything, I was bummed out.

Seeing this, one of the kids said, “Kimbo, if you are going to do this kind of stuff you need to learn a new word: “agape.” It means the love of God. When the guy calls at three in the morning and you go pick him up, it is that love.”

One day we had a hitchhiker, Rick, who had been out in the rain and looked terrible. We took him in for a night, but he stayed and stayed and stayed. Exasperated, we told him he would have to leave.

That night, I was doing an all-nighter and happened to turn and see our guest sprawled out on the sofa, long hair, dirty jeans, and t-shirt. Suddenly the thought came into my mind that if Jesus would have come today he would look just like him—long hair, beard and all. In the quiet of the night I heard the words, “It’s me.”

I woke up a few hours later consumed by the thought that Jesus was there. I thought if it truly was Jesus that had showed up, we had to treat him right. When he woke up we had a beautiful breakfast prepared. He looked at it, figuring this was the last before we kicked him out, and ate like there was no tomorrow.

Watching him, I realized that “Jesus” was in the same t-shirt and dirty jeans he had worn when he first came. Saddened that we hadn’t even realized it, we took him to a department store and had the lady take all his clothes away, underwear and socks included, and got him a brand new pair of everything.

After all, it was Jesus and he deserved the best.

Rick couldn’t figure out what was happening, but he sure was happy and a few weeks later he moved on. We’d had the honor of hosting Jesus in our tiny apartment in Los Angeles.

A summer at Agape House

Meanwhile the word had gotten around, and Asahi Shimbun did a story about the American kids who were taking care of Japanese in need overseas. Someone at NHK read the story and we ended up with an NHK crew filming us while we tried to go to school and take care of Japanese people 24 hours-a-day. The program that they broadcast on the NHK Special program—the Japanese version of “60 Minutes”—got the highest response in the history of the program and crashed the switchboard at NHK.

It was called “A Summer at Agape House.”

The Japan Helpline

Shortly after that, a phone line in Japan for non-Japanese that had been going since 1975 was incorporated into the Japanese hotline service and renamed The Japan Helpline. This year The World Helpline (for Japanese traveling, living, and studying abroad) and The Japan Helpline (for the international community in Japan) celebrated 40 years of 24-hour operation. If you open up any Japanese guidebook or telephone book, The Japan Helpline number is listed under the police and fire numbers. We attend regular meetings with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, a monthly meeting with other help providers at the US Embassy, and weekly meetings at the Diet and Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building to provide follow-up for those in need.

After all these years, the network still includes the same missionary kids, plus many others who have left Japan and now live throughout the world, friends of Japan, retired missionaries, and others. This list has nearly 22,000 members overseas and about the same number in Japan. In 1989, following the San Francisco Earthquake, a team of students went to help and the Japan Emergency Team was born—the first Japanese disaster team to leave Japan in history. At the time of writing, the team was on its 89th disaster relief project assisting refugees leaving Iraq and Syria.

Small numbers, big impact

A group of lonely missionary kids, loving people like Jesus loved them.

At a recent meeting at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, various organizations were making pitches for their assistance projects. We came last.

“And who are you?” the minister asked. Before we could say anything, his assistant said to him, “These are the Christians—even the UN and the Red Cross cannot come close to their worldwide reach.”

What a proud moment.

Agape House is not alone. As we look back at what the gospel has done in our beloved Japan we see many schools, universities, hospitals, and senior homes were started by those who love Jesus.

Stand proud, dear missionary, our numbers may seem small, but we stand in a long line of those who’ve made a positive impact in Japan and with Japanese worldwide with the love of Christ.