Here I am.
Smack dab in the middle of Osaka, Japan – in an area called Shinsaibashi, where I walk down the street and all I see is commercialism and this constant need to buy things so that you can make yourself into someone the world wants you to be.
All I hear is pounding music reverberating out of storefronts, and the ping ping of the slot machines at the many casinos along the street.
All I see are young girls dressed to get what they want, chasing businessmen down the street with propositions that would shock you.
All I feel is the falsity of the “fun” atmosphere that surrounds me, and the underlying void that everyone who walks past you is trying to fill.
And all I can think is how I wish all these hurting people knew the Peace that fills my life and soul.
We’ve spent the majority of our month in Japan praying as a team for this country and the people.
It must be absolute irony that we’re here in Shinsaibashi for the sole purpose of “stirring up the Holy Spirit” and leaving His footprints wherever we go – seeing as we’re in the very middle of so many vices that are used by human beings to escape from what they don’t want to feel and deal with.
I’d just like to tell you that there are very few streets in the Shinsaibashi area of Osaka that we haven’t walked through.
So rest assured that Jesus has been thoroughly spread through this area!
At times, it has been incredibly difficult to see the brokenness.
But I think for me, what makes it even worse is the fact that this stuff happens back in North America – so why doesn’t it bother me as much back home as it does here?
Is it because my eyes have finally been opened to it?
Or is it because I have grown up so used to being surrounded by it that I’ve become desensitized to it?
It’s sad to me that I had to come all the way to Japan to wake up and feel the heartbreak for my own country and home.
Last night, my team and I had some extra food left over from our lunch and dinner.
So, naturally, we packed it away in containers, bundled up, and missioned on down the street to find some people to feed.
We had three containers of food and we managed to find three men who were begging on the street.
We chatted with them a bit, prayed over them, and gave them their food.
Then we turned around… and came face-to-face with an entirely different kind of brokenness than what we just encountered.
All up and down that street were young girls, practically children still, who were – to be blunt – selling themselves.
And standing not far off were young men watching as the girls propositioned to passing businessmen, trying to make a sale.
These men watching were their pimps – the ones who the girls worked for and who likely gleaned a percentage of what the girls made each night.
I witnessed prostitution in Thailand and Cambodia, but for some reason this felt different.
For some reason, it felt more like how it works in North America.
And that stung!
It was a wake up call to the need that is back in my home country – the people who are hurting there and who need the love of Jesus just as much as these people halfway across the world.
So the end of the night came, and no, I didn’t manage to break any of those girls free from their chains in prostitution, and I didn’t manage to get these homeless guys into homes.
But I did pray.
While I may never see the fruits that will come from my prayers for these people, that doesn’t mean God isn’t working in their lives.
And when I return home in August, I’m not going to yearn to be abroad so that I can spread the love of Jesus to the unreached – I’m going to look around me, see the need for Christ in my own country, and reach out to my own people.
If the Lord calls me to another country, then I’ll go.
But until then, I’m not going to sit around waiting for that opportunity to fall into my lap – I’m going to stir up that Holy Spirit within my own country!
