A homeless man, or an Angel of God?
[Adventures in Faith: Japan; the late 1980s] While traveling to a Pentecostal church in Osaka, I met a homeless man. He offered me food and drink. He may have been an angel of God.
I had heard there was a type of Christian called a Pentecostal. I heard they were specialists in believing that God still answers prayer and still does miracles.
If these things were true, I needed to find Pentecostals. I needed to go to their meetings and learn from them.
So I began to look for Pentecostal churches. At this point, I couldn’t possibly have used the phone book, as I didn’t read enough Japanese yet. So I asked around.
Eventually, I came up with a lead!
My next step was to go find the church and see their schedule.
One night, I had a little free time. So I rode the trains and subways to the place l’d been told of. It was in the heart of Osaka.
From the train station, I walked. I asked directions. Eventually, I saw a little building with a sign I could recognize.
It said 教会, which is pronounced “Kyoukai”. It means church. It is written with Kanji characters.
Kanji characters are the fancy pictograms that people write with a brush. You see them at Japanese and Chinese restaurants.
The word for church is made up of two Kanji characters.
- The first Kanji character is 教, which is pronounced “kyou“. It means: teach, faith, doctrine.
- The second Kanji character is 会, which is pronounced “kai“. It means: meeting.
So a church is where people meet for teachings and faith and doctrine.
The Kanji are fascinating. By studying them, people gain all sorts of insights into the nature of life. Studying the Kanji is a bit like studying the Bible.
l had found this little church building. The sign had other information that told me this was indeed the Pentecostal church.
I studied the schedule of their meetings. My own Sunday schedule wouldn’t align with theirs.
I needed to be in certain places on almost all Sundays. I could only attend if my own Sunday commitments were cancelled.
Disappointed, I headed back toward the train station.
On my route, I needed to walk under a highway overpass.
It was nice to be there, as it was raining that night. Under the overpass, I had a brief respite from the rain.
I paused.
From the darkness, a voice called out to me, “Ni-chan!” That literally means, “Elder brother!”
Ordinarily, a Japanese person wouldn’t say it that way. They’d make it more respectful by adding a prefix. They’d say, “O–Ni-chan.”
To not have that prefix was sort of rude. I wondered who said this strange thing to me.
I looked around. Off to the north side, I saw a man. He was sitting on a piece of cardboard. He had a few trinkets sitting on the cardboard with him.
His clothes weren’t clean. A beard grew in clumps. That was unusual, as many Japanese men can’t grow a beard.
I wondered: Is he homeless. Will he ask me for money? Is he dangerous?
This was the first poor person l had ever met in Japan.
My perception of Japan, up to this point, had revolved around its prosperity. But now I was meeting a homeless man in the flesh.
I felt a real interest in him. He asked me if l’d like to eat supper with him.
He did not ask me for food or money. He was offering to give me food!
For a moment, I stumbled for words. Would his food be spoiled? Was it a trap?
Despite my misgivings, I was also feeling something very magnetic about him. I felt drawn in. Safe.
I accepted.
He offered me a piece of cardboard to sit on. I sat on the ground with him. We exchanged pleasantries. He got out some Onigiri.
Onigiri is a ball of white rice that’s wrapped in seaweed. They’re usually pressed into a triangle shape.
I liked Onigiri a lot. When I ate them, it felt to me like I was eating truly Japanese food.
He had also some Sake, which he offered me.
In my own life, like many Evangelical Christians in those days, I didn’t drink alcohol at all.
But that night I remembered the words of the Lord Jesus Christ:
Eat and drink what is set before you (see Luke 10:8).
Alcohol was the one liquid besides water that would stay safe, even when not refrigerated.
So there we sat, on pieces of cardboard, sheltered from the rain by the overpass. We ate his Onigiri and drank his Sake.
We talked. He told me some about himself. Then he asked me about myself.
He did NOT ask me the same questions that almost every person in Japan asks foreigners:
- Is it hard to use chopsticks?
- Isn’t Japanese the hardest language to learn?
- Aren’t Japanese women beautiful?
Instead, he asked me about my job. He asked about missionary work. He wondered what perspective I might have, as an American, regarding global economics.
He was curious about my take on the state of official relationships between various nations.
It didn’t take long for it to become clear to me. I was in the presence of an exceptional person.
This homeless man had great wisdom. He had accumulated vast knowledge. He was clever and funny.
Who was he? How is it that I was blessed to meet him?
As our meal and conversation came to a close, I thanked him. I thanked him for letting me spend the time with him. I thanked him for the food and drink.
While not wanting to offend his dignity, I wanted to extend to him a gift. I got out my wallet. I gave him all the money I had, minus what I needed for the train fare home.
A few days later I found a Bible passage that spoke to my experience.
It says this:
Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it (Hebrews 13:2, NIV).
In that rainy night in the heart of Osaka in Japan, I may have met an angel of God.
RESOURCES
At Wikipedia:
ADVENTURES IN FAITH
NOTE. Names, dates, and locations may have been changed.
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