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!

A friend recently related this story to me. I was only vaguely familiar with it. It illustrates the power of God's Word, and His work to change the hardest of hearts: Mitsuo Fuchida & Jacob DeShazer. The two are reading the Bible together at right. I've copied the article intact from a 1997 issue of "Christianity Today."

Fuchida grew up loving his native Japan and hating the United States, which treated Asian immigrants harshly in the first half of the twentieth century. Fuchida attended a military academy, joined Japan's Naval Air Force, and by 1941, with 10,000 flying hours behind him, had established himself as the nation's top pilot. When Japanese military leaders needed someone to command a surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, they chose Fuchida.

Fuchida's was the voice that sent his aircraft carrier the message "Tora! Tora! Tora!" (Tiger! Tiger! Tiger!) indicating the success of the surprise mission. Later, he too was surprised when he learned that, of the 70 officers who participated in the raid, he was the only one who returned alive.

By 1945 he had attained the position of the Imperial Navy's Air Operations Officer. On August 6 he was eating breakfast in Nara, Japan, where a new military headquarters was under construction, when he heard about a bomb dropped on Hiroshima. He flew to investigate, then sent a grim report to the Imperial Command.

On the same day, an American P.O.W. named Jacob DeShazer felt moved by the Holy Spirit to pray for peace. DeShazer had been in captivity since 1942, when, as a member of Doolittle's Raiders, he dropped bombs near Tokyo and then was forced to parachute into China. While imprisoned, first in Nanjing and later in Beijing, DeShazer had become a Christian. He found his heart softened toward his Japanese captors. After being liberated, DeShazer wrote a widely distributed essay, "I Was a Prisoner of the Japanese," detailing his experiences of capture, conversion, and forgiveness.

Fuchida and DeShazer met in 1950. DeShazer had returned to Japan in 1948 as a missionary. Fuchida had read DeShazer's testimony, bought a Bible, and converted from Buddhism to Christianity. DeShazer had recently finished a 40-day fast for revival in Japan when Fuchida came to his home and introduced himself. DeShazer welcomed the new convert and encouraged him to be baptized. While DeShazer continued to plant churches throughout Japan, Fuchida became an evangelist, spreading a message of peace and forgiveness in his native country and throughout Asian-American communities.

Fuchida died 25 years ago, on May 30, 1976. Like dynamite inventor Alfred Nobel, who wished his legacy to be one of peace rather than destruction, Fuchida wanted the message of his changed heart to supersede the memory of his infamous attack. He wrote, "That morning [December 7] … I lifted the curtain of warfare by dispatching that cursed order, and I put my whole effort into the war that followed. … [But] after buying and reading the Bible, my mind was strongly impressed and captivated. I think I can say today without hesitation that God's grace has been set upon me."