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My Home

“My Father’s house has many rooms…I am going there to prepare a place for you.” John 14:2

My Home

We opened the door of our first home in Japan with great anticipation and curiosity. Upon entering, we immediately encountered the first of many differences between American and Japanese housing. We stood in the tiny cubicle known as the genkan (entry way), where we were promptly instructed to take off our shoes, place them in the nearby getabako (shoe cupboard) and step into the provided slippers. From there we proceeded to explore our new domicile. The overall dimensions underwhelmed us since all the rooms, particularly the kitchen, seemed tiny compared to the American apartment we had recently vacated. There was no sink in the apartment, except for the one in the kitchen, and the single toilet was located far from the bathing area in the coldest corner of the house. The placement of the toy-like washing machine seemed to be an afterthought and the total closet space in the apartment was minimal. Fortunately, we had few possessions at the time and only one child. Going upstairs, we were surprised to discover that the standard tatami (straw) mats we expected to find had been replaced with hard flooring to accommodate the growing Japanese trend of using western furniture.

As the years slipped by, our first apartment in Japan was eventually demolished along with several other places where we previously lived. Understandably, those rather dated edifices gave way to newer, better built, better equipped and better insulated housing alternatives that are presently more common in Japan. This progression explained why older buildings in our neighborhood were routinely torn down and the remaining rubble was then expeditiously hauled away to accommodate a younger generation with different expectations. Ever increasing property prices facilitated the pace of these changes as the land was considered to be far more valuable than the structures previously built upon them.

Current Japanese housing reflects a blend of past patterns with modern conveniences, advanced building materials and newer styles. One indicator of this transition is the usage of the Japanese terms washitsu (和室Japanese style room) and yōshitsu (洋室western style room) to help identify the composition of a particular Japanese home. Likewise, the size or nature of all housing units are usually indicated by placing a numeral in front of the acronyms LDK or DK, which stand for Living/Dining/Kitchen areas or the more space restricted Dining/Kitchen version. The numeral juxtaposed in front of the acronym specifies the number of additional rooms which vary in size. A 4LDK then is a housing unit that has four rooms in addition to a living room, dining room and kitchen area. The size of individual rooms is often indicated by the number of tatami mats (roughly 3 ft x 6 ft) that can fit in the room. However, the number of square meters is now increasingly used as a substitute measurement. Advertisements for a housing unit may include the presence of a balcony, available parking space(s), existence of a special storage area (monōki), accessibility to public transportation and the year the unit was constructed.

Food, clothing and shelter are universally considered to be basic human necessities within the context of a supporting community. As Jesus prepared His followers for His impending departure, He unexpectedly gave them a wonderful promise of an eternal home that they probably did not immediately grasp (John 14:2). Jesus was going to prepare a place for them in the very presence of God for all eternity. Of course, this would only be possible at great cost through the cross, but all who believed in Him would be welcome to reside there. Our present homes on earth come in many forms, but they are all impermanent and inadequate. My home in heaven is forever where I will enjoy unparalleled communion with God and His people. That’s an edifice that will never be torn down.

My Hometown

“My people will live in peaceful dwelling places, in secure homes, in undisturbed places of rest.”      Isaiah 32:18

Furusto

Our “choir” for that day featured no gifted singers, but what it lacked in ability was more than compensated for by the heartfelt participation of the predominantly older voices gathered in one of the many temporary housing areas scattered along the northeast coast of Japan. We were serving coffee, tea and homemade cookies to those who had been recently displaced by the tsunami following the Great East Japan Earthquake. A team of volunteers then led everyone in singing the famous Japanese folk song “Furusato,” (故郷) translated “My Hometown.” As my wife and I listened to the well-known words to the song, we were emotionally unable to add our voices to those who had lost so much.

I chased rabbits in those mountains
I fished in that stream
I still dream now and then about those days as a child
How I long for and miss my hometown

How are my father and mother?
Are my old friends okay?
Whenever it is rainy and windy
I recall my happy childhood in my hometown

Some day when I've done what I set out to do,
I will return to what used to be my home
The mountains are green there in my hometown

Described as a song that reflects the heart of Japan, Furusato* is traditionally sung as a wistful contemplation of bygone days with the slight hint of hope that those happier times will someday be recovered. But the words on this occasion seemed empty as they were being mouthed by people who had lost their homes, loved ones, jobs and even their way of life within the span of a few minutes on March 11, 2011. The mountains and streams from their childhood memories still remained, but there would be no returning to the furusato they enthusiastically sang about.

That single moment, among the many we experienced doing relief work, captured for us the uniqueness of the Japanese and their amazing, resilient response to unmitigated, personal disaster. All that remained of many towns and neighborhoods along that coast were vast fields of empty foundations that eerily resembled ancient archeological ruins. Those who remained continued to press on, clinging to the memories of their furusato with little hope of livelihood, and many were still struggling to pay off loans on houses that no longer existed.

Although the song “Furusato” is known by all Japanese, very few are aware that the tune and lyrics were actually written by Christians. As such, the composers used the metaphor of furusato to portray the people of God as sojourners on earth waiting for their eternal, heavenly home. This theme comes out clearly in the last verse where it says “Someday when I’ve done what I set out to do, I will return to what used to be my home.” It is good to keep this worthier objective in mind as we seek to point the way to our eternal furusato to others, while standing shoulder to shoulder with those who have lost their earthly furusato.

*You can listen to the song Furusato through the following link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gcmcXrCihrA