Strange and beautiful

Fushigi [不思議]. Such a wonderful word. It can be translated as “marvelous, strange, incredible, mysterious.” If you break the word apart and look at the kanji: 思議 can mean “guess” or “conjecture” and 不 is a prefix like our English “non-” or “un-.” 不 turns the root word into a negative, giving “fushigi” the connotation of not being able to make a guess or conjecture. In this age of COVID-19, we surely live in fushigi times. We can hardly guess what’s happening tomorrow, much less next month or next year. Good thing we serve a fushigi God. And when it comes to caring in the new normal, we need some of his marvelous, incredible creativity.

New and unexpected

At the beginning of 2020, while something strange and mysterious was going on in China and spreading across Asia, I was rounding out my first home assignment back in the US. I had to raise more support for my second term, and I thought I might be staying a little longer than the six months my team and I planned when I left Japan back in September 2019. However, God was faithfully bringing in the provision as I took my steps of faith. By spring, I, along with the rest of the world, suddenly became interested in daily checking a lot of graphs. And in my head, I started drawing my own graph: as my support increased and neared 100 percent, so the cases of this mysterious disease increased and the countries it invaded began its slow march towards 100 percent. By March, my support just reaching 90 percent, a weighty decision interrupted my plans. My field director called me and said the borders to Japan were closing.

Suddenly, I had to pray desperately and ask if I should hurry my departure and return to Japan before the doors closed. I took courage, knowing my team was praying on my behalf as well. Then one morning, God distracted me from my read-the-Bible-in-a-year plan and brought me to Acts 19:21–30. In this passage, the idol makers in Ephesus stirred up a riot, and some of Paul’s travel companions got swept up into the theater. Paul wanted to go in after them, but he was stopped by his other disciples. Friends of Paul—political leaders in the area—also urged him not to go in. As I read about Paul’s situation, suddenly my own heart clenched in my chest. Through this passage, I heard the voice of my Good Shepherd telling me, “Submit to those friends who love the Lord, who love you, who have authority over you, and who can ‘read the air’ in Japan.”

I knew exactly who he was talking about. Immediately, I sent messages to my missions team and my church partners in Sendai. Through their encouragement, and particularly the words of my Japanese brothers and sisters, God directed me. My pastor wrote, “While our feelings are all the same—that we want Bethany to return!—I believe the answer is to obey the authority of our leaders and to wait to return to Japan. I think this will be an incredible testimony for you as a missionary and that this will deeply teach the church in Japan to trust missionaries.”

If my goal is to serve the church in Japan, how could I not care for my Japanese brothers and sisters through this difficult but loving task of obedience? I knew then that he called me to stay and wait in the US.

Caring from afar

In a new way I could never have imagined before, I had to wait on the Lord. I went on extended home assignment, all the while waiting for the political powers across two countries to allow me to travel back. I prayed for my daily bread in a new way. My parents and I had to learn how to walk in love for one another during lockdown, each of us reacting to stressors we had never experienced before, especially as I mourned the loss of returning to Japan as planned. I had to seek new direction for what ministry looked like in a season that I didn’t know the end to.

Both my field team and my stateside team were invaluable, adapting quickly to the new world, ministering to me and giving me opportunities to minister. I was the only one on my field team outside of Japan when the pandemic hit. Our leadership had already made a COVID Response Team, and they became dedicated to praying for me and researching how to get me back. I received frequent video calls and prayers from various teammates checking in on me. Spiritually, practically, and emotionally they served me, and never once did I feel isolated from them. Despite thousands of miles and travel restrictions, we were in this together.

Stateside, my sending organization had planned to have a lot of short-term teams come to Japan for summer 2020, serving in events initiated due to the Olympics. When that couldn’t happen, they invited me into plans to stoke the passion for ministry and Japan in the hearts of these young people. Through monthly Zoom calls, we began building fellowship and teaching about ministering in Japan.

Waiting is never passive.

Waiting is never passive. Psalm 123:2 says, “Behold, as the eyes of servants look to the hand of their master, as the eyes of a maidservant to the hand of her mistress, so our eyes look to the Lord our God, till he has mercy upon us” (ESV). When we are waiting, our eyes are fixed on the Lord, watching for what he is doing, taking every opportunity he gives. He is always working, and we need to train our eyes to know what to look for. And we need to be ready to move.

Coming near to care

I returned to Japan on September 16, with only 12 other passengers on my flight, three days before my reentry permit would expire. God miraculously opened up the borders in the exact month that I needed to move.

I was the first one on my team reentering the country as a resident. And again, thanks to the faithfulness and love of my team and my God, I had a plan. I knew the paperwork I needed to apply for, what to expect during the reentry process, what to tell the authorities, and how to get to my quarantine location without using public transportation. I messaged my team on LINE through mini-panic attacks waiting at immigration. I spent the night in a hotel, rented a car, and left for Tohoku at 5:00 a.m. to stay in a guest house generously provided by a partner church. My team fed me, with physical and spiritual food. I had a Welcome Back sign on the table and a coffee jelly in the fridge. When a bout with depression hit in the isolation, I got prayer and BBQ from one teammate and a driveway coffee date from another. Social distancing was no barrier to my team caring for me with love and responsibility.

The world has become a strange and mysterious place since the last time I was in this country I love. I used to be an expert in how to run a Sunday morning at our church, but now there’s a temperature check and alcohol spray at the door and a plethora of enigmatic audio-visual equipment in the back for streaming the service. But I continue to look past it all to the strange and mysterious God who has made everything beautiful in its time, turning to strengthen brothers and sisters who would come after me. With a year like 2020, I’m so glad that our God exhorts us to “rejoice with those who rejoice” and, in the same breath, “weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15). My team planned with me, wept with me, prayed with me, and Zoomed with me. I am also grateful that they can rejoice with me in another strange and beautiful experience as well: in the US, two weeks after I had originally planned to return to Japan, God allowed me to meet a man who wants to walk this strange and mysterious life together with me. It’s amazing! 不思議だな. . .

Photos submitted by author. Photo of author taken by Casi Brown