Dear Family and Friends,

During the years Dan and I lived in Japan, we became immersed in a culture very different from the one in which we had been raised. There are many bits and pieces, idiosyncrasies and habits, which have seeped into our blood and become part of our life and style.

One of the bits that has indelibly latched itself onto my mind is that of aisatsu, or the practice of greeting one another. Aisatsu is probably the most delicate, most highly ordered, and most culturally definitive ideas in Japanese consciousness. Despite its cultural significance, however, it is difficult for most Japanese to explain. For years I tried, both by observing and outright asking, to make a list of do’s and don’ts that would make my entry into a home or office or a conversation less obtuse, less rough, less “American.” I longed for the gracefulness that effortlessly lighted upon greetings made between Japanese and tried to emulate it.

But I just couldn’t seem to get it right. It seemed that every situation called for a something different: a subtly higher tone of voice or a deeper bow; a softer knock or a drop of the eyes; a slight pause before responding or a heartier laugh. Often I knew what to say, but did not know how, or in what manner, to say it.

I think this is the reason I came to enjoy writing letters in Japanese. In writing, the “how” was inferred by the reader who would naturally read it in a way that was appropriate to her senses of proper aisatsu. Perhaps because of my pride in mastering the fine art of aisatsu in writing, I cannot begin a letter without following the most fundamental rule of Japanese letter writing: the initial greeting always makes reference to the season.

For Japanese, beginning a letter without a poetic description of the season is considered at best improper, at worst, crude and base. Here is an example of what an aisatsu might sound like in English. . . with a little help from poet Edgar Fawcett:

Winter is here, with eyes that keenly glow,
A frost-mailed warrior
striding a shadowy steed of snow.

For all of you who do not share a love of literary revels, this aisatsu simply means, “It’s bloody cold up here!!”

So, with the proper greeting made, I am now ready to fill you in on what Dan and I have been doing in the last several months. As some of you may know, the two-year Program HOPE! internships are divided into two components: learning and service. It was decided that my learning would best take place in Grand Rapids, MI, as many church-based, community development organizations are flourishing here. So for the first month and a half, I spent much of my time in conversation with leaders in the field of community development. Their stories were inspiring and challenging.

Nearly everyone I talked with stressed the importance of tapping into the “felt needs” of the community. Programs should be developed around the places where the community is frustrated, stressed, or angry, rather than on needs that we, as outsiders, see and want to fix. We should approach the community first and foremost as learner rather than teacher.

At the start of November, Dan and I moved to Muskegon. We live very near to Applewood Community Ministries. (I bike there often and sometimes walk.) As I have reflected on what I learned in Grand Rapids and tried to make plans for the next couple of months here in Muskegon, I have realized that mine is a role of listener and learner. There is a history that I must root myself in; there are people from whom I must gain respect and trust; there is a culture into which I must dive and soak myself. Many of the habits and customs we learned in Japan are irrelevant in this mostly African-American neighborhood. There are new ways that we need to learn. All of this must happen before I can hear and understand the felt needs of the community in Muskegon.

With this conviction, I have spent much time in the last couple of weeks talking with each one of the board members, all of whom are from the neighborhood and all of whom have a great passion and interest in bringing transformation to the neighborhood. It is very exciting for me to hear each one of their stories and passions, each one coming out of different experiences and unique personalities. As they speak, I jot down notes which I later type into my computer to review and reflect on. I am blessed to have people of such rich character and insight surrounding me!

In these conversations, I have heard a strong desire for some kind of ministry around the children and youth in the neighborhood. Many people are hoping for an after-school program, so I am looking into different models of such a program. Another (resounding) theme is that of creating unity among the neighborhood churches, as well as other institutions (some governmental, some non-profit), all of which are offering programs and services to different segments of the community. There are divisive walls between these institutions. Some are walls of competition and others are of prejudice. All are walls of fear, and (as such) they are binding a power, that, if unleashed, could lead to true and lasting transformation of this community. This is where the slow and patient work must begin.

Many of you have offered your support for me in this ministry in Muskegon. For those of you who are supporting me financially, I thank you for generously giving of your money! For those of you who are supporting me with prayer, I thank you for generously giving of your time! Please pray for us as we try to introduce this idea of unity and partnership to the leaders of the institutions of the community. Pray that God will bless the relationships that we are beginning to build here. Pray that God will grant us patience and wisdom in this work.

Thank you! May you and your neighbors experience God’s shalom in this season!