Tomohisa had reached a coveted status in Japan’s vertically-ordered society: medical doctor. Along with the status came wealth, which he used to buy the affection of women…and lots of booze. His selfishness blinded him to the hurt he was causing his family. His drinking and infidelity broke his wife’s heart and alienated his daughter. Eventually it took a toll on his body as well. He developed terminal liver cancer.

For the daughter, Takako, it was a long journey from pain and resentment to grace and forgiveness. Healing began when she found her Savior, Jesus Christ, and was filled by the power of his Spirit. My joy was baptizing Takako and seeing her grow in her new faith. She was faithfully by his side when her father became bedridden in the final stages of the cancer. “My only desire now is for his salvation,” she told me. We prayed and asked God to break down the spiritual resistance in his heart. I wondered to myself, however, whether there was enough time. Tomohisa’s prognosis was not good: a few weeks at best. God would have to be pretty eager to save.

The following week a meeting in Tokyo brought me close to his hospital. I considered a visit, but hesitated. Takako told me that Tomohisa didn’t want to see any Christian pastors. “What good could my foreigner presence and stumbling about in Japanese do but frustrate him more?” I reasoned. “Besides, if the family wanted me there they’d have called.” So, I shoved into the subway train and headed home. Three stations later I felt strongly shoved out. God was doing the pushing, but I couldn’t understand why.

Stepping out onto platform, I wondered what to do next. The answer seemed to come: “Find a place to make a call.” I wandered near the subway station exit, climbing the exit stairs to ground level where I could get a good signal. I scrolled through my address book. Wouldn’t you know it! I didn’t have Takako’s number. For me that was as good a reason as any to get back on the train home. That’s when the phone in my hand rang.

“Pastor Kevin?” It was the son-in-law. “My wife and I are here at the hospital. Tomohisa’s situation is bad. He’s crying for help. I don’t know what to do. I’m not a priest. I’m not even a Christian. I don’t know anything about the Bible. Can you come?” “Of course,” I replied. “I’m not far away now. I can be there soon.” Hanging up, I was stunned at the timing of the call.

But now it dawned on me how unprepared I was. I had no Bible with me, not even a pocket NT or portion of Psalms. What could I share with him? Of all the times for a missionary to be without this critical gear, why now? That’s when I heard it.

Hymns! The wonderful sound was flooding out from a newsstand just up the street from me. This didn’t fit into the local scene. We have hamburgers and hiphop on the streets of Tokyo, but not hymns! Walking up, I was dumbfounded to see a cross and the logo for the Salvation Army. A uniformed woman greeted me, “We only have a few things in English. Are you interested in some Christian material?” “Actually, I’m a missionary. I need a Japanese Bible for a hospital call,” I answered. Smiling, she said,“I just knew you were a missionary. I could tell by your smell.” (NOTE: I’ve been told American missionaries do smell different. But I have to assume she meant it in the ‘spiritual fragrance’ sense.) “Go to the second floor of the building behind us. The man up there will have a Bible for you,” she said. I went. Sure enough, he did.

At this point if God had revealed to me that the woman and man were angels and the newsstand only existed in a spiritual dimension, I would have found the idea quite reasonable. As I reboarded the train for the hospital, I was filled with awe at how God had been leading my steps.

The family was waiting for me at the hospital when I arrived. Tomohisa was doubled up on the bed in obvious discomfort. His estranged wife was seated beside him. The doctor had just come to administer pain medication. I sat near him and softly sang a verse of “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” then opened the Bible and read from Psalm 23 and John 14. “Do you want me to read more?” I asked. He nodded. “Tomohisa, God wants to forgive your sin and has made a way for you to be with Him forever. Listen.” I read from John 3, ending at verse 17. “Do you believe these things?” He nodded again. In his pain, he was almost beyond verbal expression. “Why don’t we pray together and ask God’s forgiveness in Jesus,” I suggested. He surprised me by stretching out his hand to mine, bringing it to himself. As I prayed he moved his lips along with me. When I ended with “Amen” his face relaxed. He sighed softly and drifted off to sleep. The medication had eased his pain, but God had eased his soul. He may have been a respected doctor, an alcoholic, a womanizer, but now he was a child of God.

Tomohisa never fully regained consciousness after that afternoon, four days later passing into eternity, and into the arms of our Lord. I helped with the funeral arrangements, speaking at the wake and funeral. Done in a Christian way (not Buddhist tradition), it was the powerful testimony to the family and relatives. God received much glory for his work of salvation.

I left the Bible I read to Tomohisa in the hands of his wife. She is reading it now. I’ve no doubt that she, too, will soon find the grace in Christ that he experienced in the last moments of life. Why? Because God is moving heaven and earth to accomplish his salvation plan. Trains, missionaries, cell phones, newsstands and people might all be but small parts of it. Let’s not forget that salvation is his business. God IS very eager to save!

I needed to be back in time to remember how God works. And why our being missionaries is worth the sacrifice. This past week was a reminder. Let me rewind the clock to set this up.

Last Sunday as Mr. Ubukata entered church, I asked how his father's (Kenzo) surgery went. Cancer had forced the doctors to remove a portion of Kenzo's colon. Mr. U replied that things went very well, thanked me for my prayer, and added that there was just his recovery and "he'll be home soon." That Tuesday, however, things took a dramatic turn for the worse: Kenzo fell into a coma. On Wednesday afternoon he died peacefully in his sleep.

This might have been sad and tragic u-turn for the family, except for one very important lifechanging event: Kenzo had placed his faith in Christ as his Savior a few years earlier. He had the hope of eternity. He was home now. He was walking the streets of gold with his Savior. His 88 years of hurts and pains and sadness fell away in an instant as he discovered incomparable joy and life in heaven.

As we sang songs of rejoicing at the funeral, I was reminded of the chain of people God used to bring Kenzo home. We came to Japan. Mr. U and his wife were friends of our core family in the church plant. So they began attending our tiny Sunday gathering. They placed their faith in Christ. Then Mr. U brought his mother to church. The first Sunday tears flowed down her cheeks as she sang hymns. A few months later she placed her faith in Christ. Then she brought the good news back to her other son. He was saved. At his baptism, Kenzo (the father), decided that this is what he wanted for himself as well. He placed his faith in Christ and was baptized soon after. The eldest Christian in his family, his funeral was of great testimony to his relatives.

Now, a new current of faith in flowing in the Ubukata family. Six of them are believers. What if we had not come to Japan? Where would Kenzo and his family be? God is strong enough to save in some other way, I know. But I am thrilled that in his grace He allowed us to be a part of this family's new heritage, to serve as a link in the chain to bring Japanese to Jesus, just like Kenzo. Thank you, Lord, for bringing me back to Japan in time to see and be reminded of this.

In his baptism testimony three years ago Kenzo wrote: "Many things have happened in the 85 years I've lived, but nothing compares to the great joy of knowing Jesus and walking with him everyday."