Alright, friends and family. It’s whine time. I hate to reboot the family blog with a session of complaint, but I can’t use Skype and the folks here don’t understand the situation, so I turn to you (like All41 and later, Christina Aguilera).
Here are some gems from Kyoto Assembly Church. Please feel free to tell me if my mild albeit mounting irritation is unreasonable. I was frustrated last Sunday, then wondered if the spirit of evil or the demons that one woman had said was entering the church had found its way into my soul. Or perhaps not. Honestly, there are only two main reasons why I get so irritated, so perhaps this will all fade away.
Firstly, I feel that the leaders in this church disregard my situation and personal life when asking for my commitment. Thanksgiving dinner, for example, turned into a nightmare. Not only was I asked to emcee, but to bring homemade pies (let’s remember that I had already told them that I had to make
everything from scratch) and to come two hours early on a day when (as I had informed them) I had a prior commitment in the morning. Being an emcee for a bilingual crowd requires bilingualism or a pre-determined translator at the least. I had four different people translate for me before the night was through; we kept having to find someone else. It was incredibly stressful; I was given no clear direction as to the flow of the evening, and was asked during the event to fill roles of absent people. I pretty much ad libbed the whole night and never got a piece of my own pie.
There’s also the occasional leading of worship, which I was asked to do on my second Sunday. I have no idea how it’s organized, and was never told in the first place, and we rarely have opportunity to practice, but by golly we will make a joyful noise. I have sung back-up every time because usually I don’t know half the music. To add to that, as soon as they found out that I play piano they asked if I could start doing so for worship. I said no, I have no way to practice and I can’t sight-read. Then I mentioned wanting to purchase a keyboard in casual, after-service tea-time conversation. They asked again if I could play. I said no, that I couldn’t afford the keyboard yet, so I still couldn’t practice. Then I mentioned that I had tried to buy a keyboard, but USPS is a liar and won’t ship things its website says it can. They asked again if I could play. I said NO, I had no way to practice. I’m not telling them that I bought a keyboard on Monday.
And let us not forget Valentine’s Day. Oh, yes. On January 25th I was very, very busy. I got to church late and needed to leave immediately after. As in arrive at 5:10, leave at 6:15. But oh, the surprises that were in store for me. First the service ran ten minutes longer than usual. Then we had a full hour of silent prayer for various things, including when a woman spoke up about a concern that demons and a spirit of evil were infiltrating out midst, since someone broke her doll and wouldn’t pay her for it, and her Bible was either misplaced or stolen. The congregation was a little taken aback at that prayer concern, (as was I when the woman later gave me an awkward hug from behind and told the back of my neck all about it, asking me what I thought. I just patted the hands in their death-grip on my shoulders and said, “Well, that’s no good. I’ll pray for you”). I was about to head out when Haruka, the girl (I say that, but she’s in her early 30’s) who occasionally drives me to church and leads the worship, informed me that she had made me a cake. So I felt guilty, resolved to buy a prepackaged sandwich for lunch the next day and iron some dirty clothes (since I wouldn’t be home in time to finish my laundry or cook), and pretend to be surprised when they shut of the lights and sang to me.
Side note: the Japanese usually sing “Happy Birthday to You” to each other, not just when English-speakers are around. I found this surprising.
I should mention that the pastor had, before the benediction, announced the Valentine’s Single’s Party, happening on the 15th. I made a mental note to have a prior commitment, which I quite possibly had already. Immediately after realizing that I couldn’t jet home the pastor’s wife (who is also a pastor) asked me if I could attend the party. I gave a discouraging, “We’ll see. I have to check my schedule. February is really busy for me, so I don’t know.” She seemed taken aback, as though shocked that I do anything aside from work and go to church. Then her husband asked me the same question not ten minutes later (the ten minutes during which I was grabbed and neck-whispered to, then the cake was brought out). I gave him the same answer. Towards the end of the night, when I was really getting nervous about ever being able to go home, I was roped like a longhorn steer. I was sitting one chair away from the head of the table, at which sat the pastor and his wife, the pastor being farther from me.
The pastor’s wife suddenly said to me, “Laurel, my husband has something to ask you.”
Oh, no, I thought. “Sure!” I said.
The pastor got up from his chair, came around the end of the table, and sat next to me. I got nervous, working to keep a pleasantly expectant smile on my face.
“Laurel,” he said, looking straight into my eyes like a snake charming a mouse, “My wife and I would like you to emcee the single’s party.”
“Okay!” I said, wondering if my mouth had an off button.
“Can you do it?”
“Sure!”
Where is that forsaken off button? “I mean, I’ll have to check my schedule, but I’ll let you know by email. I don’t
think I have anything
that night.” I prayed my schedule was full.
The Lord works few miracles for selfish people. My schedule that evening was wide open, though the prior and following Sundays are jam-packed. This time, at least, I was sent an itinerary for the evening. The Single’s Event requires nearly a full day’s commitment: I will leave Kameoka at 3 p.m. in order to arrive at church early and set up. I will stay for an hour of service; the pastor, however, said that he “hopes” the service only lasts an hour, but “we’ll see” considering that the two previous Sundays we’ve run 25 to 45 minutes past time. Then he laughed. Oh, hah hah. The hilarity of church services that run overtime when there is a two-hour Single’s Event waiting to happen. Hah. And then I will stay late to help clean up and acquiece to helping with whatever else the church folk weasel my way.
To add to this upcoming disaster, last Sunday I again arrived early at church with Haruka, prepared to sing my little heart out on songs I didn't know. I told her how busy my weekend had been, and how I still had so much to do. I had laundry to finish, a meal to put together, and a lesson to finish. My bus for the next day left at 7:23 a.m, so I had no time to dawdle and socialize. When the pastor's wife asked me prior to the service how my week had gone, I told her pretty much the same thing. I planned to stay for five minutes after the service to confirm with the pastor's wife about when I should show up this weekend or tell her when she could call me. Then I would catch the 6:40 train back (it takes 17 minutes to walk to the closest station). Or the 6:56 if I really must.
Lucky for me, the pastor asks if I have some time. "I know you have to leave soon," he says. I glance at the clock. If he can't talk immediately, the 6:56 it is. 7:09 train at the latest. "I have fifteen minutes," I respond. He says okay and then leaves. Then mouthy guy next to me starts talking, the kids and the mouthy guy eat all the refreshments before I can get to them, and my time is running out. Neither the pastor nor his wife are anywhere to be found. 7:09 train it is. The pastor sits down next to me twenty minutes after we originally spoke. "Sorry, I know your fifteen minutes are up."
ARGH. "Yeah," I say. There's a train at 7:27. I won't get to Kameoka until 8:15, unless Haruka leaves early this week and can take me home, or at least drive me to the station. The pastor sits down and talks to me for ten minutes about everything he already wrote in his email. No new information is communicated. I had my hand on my bag and was half out of my seat the whole time. Then his wife wanted to ask me about coming early to help. I said four o'clock, to email or call with any questions, and ran out the door because Haruka needed to talk with the senior pastor and his wife (Nihonjin desu). I saw the 7:27 train pull out as I ran up the stairs.
As I waited in the freezing cold for the 7:47 train I told myself,
Now, Laurel, you may just be being nasty. Which is more important, supporting the house of the Lord, or your laundry? Then I figured that being prepared for my job preempted an event for anglophone singles, and I stayed upset. I hadn't cooled off much after 45 minutes on the train (can't catch a rapid from Tambaguchi near the church. All local, and we sit at Saga-Arashiyama for ten minutes waiting for the rapid from Kyoto station to pass us), and I hadn't eaten since 12:30. It was 8:35, I called Margaret to come and eat with me, and we went to a cheap restaurant so that neither of us would dirty dishes or cook. And then I complained to her. Big mistake, lesson learned—don't complain to non-Christians about issues with church. They just don't get it. Which is why I'm posting this here, where none of my blog readers or church folk know to look.
Now, on to the second reason: the sermons. Let me assure you that the basic concepts are good, keeping to the Scripture and truths. They’re nothing too deep in nature. However, if you’re a pastor, I feel that the pastor might sit and meditate about his sermons, rather than doing any real research. It's kind of like how Grandma watches the news, then warns me not to get HIV, but doesn't know how it's transmitted. Here's what I mean:
During a sermon about the crucifixion the pastor talked about the earthquake that rent the curtain in twain. Let me briefly remind you that he was addressing a congregation that resided in Japan. He was talking about the awesome power of God, and asked us, "Have you ever been in a place that has been shaken?"
My jaw dropped. He couldn't be serious.
He continued, "Maybe in a place with loudspeakers, turned up so high…"
Really?
Really? There have been three earthquakes large enough for the Average Joe or Rei to feel within the last six months (though I've been on trains during two of them).
Loudspeakers?Another time I have written in my notes, "Pastor J has some odd phrasing, like two-legged people being more blessed, in a way, than someone with only one leg." I'd like to ask a one-legged Christian if he or she feels the same. I have a feeling that that person would contest. Also in the same day of sermon notes is, "Pastor is not very good at telling jokes." Then next week is, "The Starfish Story? Are you kidding me? Come on."
This past Sunday the sermon was on Psalm 91, which Mom made us memorize in our childhood. I felt awesome when indeed I did not turn my Bible (or open the BibleReader on my iPod) to the verse, but instead recited it. Heck yeah. And then it began. I quote directly from my journal. If you don't know exactly what I'm referencing, please turn your Bibles to Psalm 91. Begin quote.
Verses 3-14: Comfort in God's presence
Deliverance. Does P. Joseph actually research his sermons, or just read the news and think? "Snare of the fowler" goes with "under his wings". We are like
birds, not like people walking through bird traps. I wish my siblings were here. If I weren't sitting on the front row I would write a postcard. [stick figure of self with a manga angry mark instead of a stomach, with "Hungry!" written next to it and underlined three times] Also, the metaphors of wings and armor are separate. 'Wings are easily penetrated, so the truth is like armor.' Huh?
God takes care of those who do his will. Verses 9-13 are a picture of victory. I'm surprised that he didn't talk about how it seems that there were a lot of people stubbing their toes or a lot of poisonous snakes running around, with no way to kill them without stomping all over them.
End quote. Need further clarification? "He shall deliver you from the snare of the fowler." Yes, a fowler is a hunter of birds. No, it does not seem that in those days that many fowlers and hunters had laid traps, and that it was very dangerous for people. No, they probably did not become trapped themselves, or fall into a pit made to capture animals.
It's a metaphor. About how we are like helpless birds. How are birds trapped? I'll tell you. Snares and nets. I doubt people frequently wandered through the forest, then got their feet stuck in a snare, then couldn't figure out how to get their ankles free, wailing, "
Why, God?" the whole time. These weren't bear traps, people. No one has to gnaw his own foot off to get out of a snare.
And on a mostly unrelated note, I also found this written:
Why doesn't praise and worship music rhyme anymore?
Here I am
By the blood of the Lamb
My soul is stripped bare
(Then, in tiny letters:) To my underwear
I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure I made that up. Dad, Barron, Shara, any of you want to put that to music?
Looks like our best option would be to "continue as guest." However, it looks like the invitation is very likely to expire after a month or so. For now I'll leave the blog public. I'm addicted to RSS feeds at the moment. =) Maybe I can find a way to use it with the increased security. I'm using FeedDemon, and it's nice since it syncs up on both my laptop and desktop using an account on their server. Apparently it's as good, if not better in many respects compared to Bloglines or even Google Reader. I'm always going from one machine to another, so I wanted my feeds saved to a centralized server. It would be nice if it would do the same for all my bookmarks, too! I'd like to feel comfortable posting my Xmas wishlist here, but I'm more likely to e-mail it.
