I love Japan.
Seriously.
You know that feeling you get when you come home at the end of a long day and you just breathe in the familiar scent of your house and you have to smile because your heart just feels at peace?
That’s what Osaka feels like to me. Home. These past two weeks have been just amazing. We are staying in an artsy, bohemian part of downtown called Shinsibashi. Everywhere you turn there are thrift stores, quaint little restaurants and incredible street art; it’s like my own personal paradise. The streets are always spotlessly clean, and even though it’s a huge metropolis, everyone is quiet so you can still hear yourself think. The people are so perfectly put together, every single one of them looks like they just stepped out of a Vogue magazine. Prada, Dolce and Gabbana, Hermes, Rolex, you name it, it’s less than 4 or 5 blocks from my apartment I guarantee.
My biggest regret this month is how long it took for the glitz and glamour of the city to wear off. The hurt and devastation of sin is masked by flawless appearances and fancy window displays, and I let myself become distracted. I was so caught up in the beauty of the city and kindness of the people I couldn’t see what was really underneath it all, a lot of darkness. Casinos litter every corner, vending machines with alcohol in them are on all the main streets, you don’t have to walk very far from our apartment to find porn shop after porn shop, and prostitutes and pimps are mingled in with the busy shoppers.
I like to think I’m a pretty discerning person, I’m pretty good at seeing past facades and getting to the root of things, except when I don’t want to. Japan felt like home. I loved it from the start, I didn’t want to believe this beautiful city had so much darkness in it, because if I accepted that, I’d have to accept that I’m going to notice a lot more darkness when I get home to Knoxville. My home, my beautiful, sunshine filled Knoxville, is just as dark as the streets I’ve walked in every country I’ve been to, and that’s a hard fact to come to terms with. I chose to let myself be distracted.
Of course, God didn’t let me stay that way. The other night we were walking home and came across a really rough area where a lot of girls were obviously soliciting themselves. Well, obvious to my team at least, I was caught up in my own thoughts and completely missed them. When we got back and my team started talking about how devastating that was to see, I had to confess to them I hadn’t seen anything! I asked God to give me eyes to see the darkness and the next morning I prayer walked the area. At first I was just reveling in the joy of walking the street, but then it was like the more I prayed the heavier I felt. God gave me His eyes for every person there, I saw past the masks. My heart felt so heavy for the people, I began to be really intentional about looking them in the eyes and smiling at every single person I passed. I wanted to tell them I was fighting for them, that I was crying out to God on their behalf, that they didn’t have to live like this anymore. No longer was the city just a pretty snapshot, it was hurting, and now I have to do something about it.
I’m not writing all this to say you can’t love a city, or see the good in things or find joy in places, I think my love for the city fuels my prayers for its redemption that much more. But you can’t go through life distracted, and not choosing to see what’s really there in front of you. Be aware of the battles going on around you, because God’s call to fight is very clear, and how can you fight something you don’t acknowledge exists?
