What Does CAT Do All Day?

CAT Magazine: A picture book of everyday life and activities during my time with Community Arts Tokyo so far (2012 - 2014). What does it look like to support church-planting through the arts in Japan? Here are a few snapshots!

As I raise support I've enjoyed showing this simple book of pictures (including faces of many people I love!) to old and new friends around the US. People keep suggesting I make a digital copy others can view and share, so I'm finally taking their advice and giving it a try. Click the link above and let me know what you think!

Fear and Faith (and also a wasp)

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzzzzzzzz. 

I get in the car, pull onto the highway, and glance back to see a big black wasp in the rear view mirror. After recovering from my mild heart attack I roll down the windows but mr. wasp is angrily stuck by the rear window. I’m currently going through a workbook on stress, so I take a deep breath and pray a prayer of praise that God controls all things, even insects, and sincerely pray that this particular insect pleeeeease not come up here and sting me. I inwardly congratulate myself for my excellent handling of this stressful circumstance. I no longer see a wasp in the rear-view mirror so I happily roll up the windows.

And 3. 2. 1. BZZZZ accompanies the speedily approaching image of an angry black wasp in the mirror, and my fingers slam down the buttons to roll down the windows, the light breeze whisking our little friend out the window (for real this time, I think). I nervously laugh at myself and begin to pray for the friend I’m driving to meet, but I keep hearing a phantom buzz from the wind, imagining creepy wasp legs when my hair tickles my neck, and I feel my stomach tighten.

This is not the first wasp I’ve seen today. Just hours before, I was eating lunch with family when we noticed a wasp in the room. I casually grabbed our plates of food out of the way as my Dad grabbed a spray can and fly-swatter, and we continued our conversation as he disposed of the intruder. I mentioned to him a second wasp was on the other side of the room, and he got rid of that one as well. My pulse didn't rise, my shoulders didn't tighten, I didn't think about them again.

The same circumstance: an encounter with a wasp. But a completely different stress level. When my Dad was in the room I was confident there was someone with me who had control of the situation, so I didn't worry at all about the pesky bug. In the car I was alone, trapped with this DEADLY FOE.

Interesting isn't it, how perspective changes a similar scenario? Small or large, health or finances, what other things stress us out? Perhaps, do we sometimes forget there is One who has complete control? And thank you, Jesus – our Heavenly Daddy is always in the room.

Art, Life, Faith - a Casual Discussion

One of many, many highlights of my last few weeks of traveling for support-raising was filling my downtime with art. From the MET in NYC, to the Glass Museum in Corning, to sitting around a wood stove with old and new friends marveling at photographs of works by this guy, ...and as I slowly drove home through swirling snow it occurred to me that each of those very different experiences with art lead me to thoughts of our Creator; in some way pointed me to God. 

I've learned a lot these past few years of how the arts can be such a connecting point to God, but instead of hearing another example from me, I'm excited to share this article from Japan:

Art, Life, Faith - A Casual Discussion

Original article published in CHRISTIAN TODAY by Reima Shinjo, January 31, 2015

(Translated from the Japanese)

Community Arts Tokyo’s first event of the year, “Art, Life, Faith” (ALF), was held on January 19th in a home in the middle of Tokyo. Community Arts Tokyo seeks to connect people through the arts and reconnect the arts with society and daily life. They are also a resource to organizations and churches of various denominations to provide artistic events.

In the wide range of activities Community Arts Tokyo has to offer, from performance parties and symposiums, to volunteer relief and revitalization work in areas of northern Japan hit by the 2011 disaster, ALF is a casual event, simply meeting in local homes. It is an open discussion built on the basis that the fine arts, formalized in the concert hall, theater, museum, or gallery, are present in our everyday lives, fulfilling an important role in our lives and society, and can serve as a connecting point to the God of the Bible.

Leaders, locations, and themes of the discussion differ every time, sometimes a scholarly discussion of the music of Bach, other times addressing topics from popular entertainment, like the movie “Frozen.” This evening Roger Lowther, Director of Community Arts Tokyo, presented the theme of “eyes.” Conversation was sparked with the viewing of a piece by Marina Abramović, a well-known performance artist originally from Yugoslavia, and everyone was invited to share their thoughts.

The video clip was from Marina’s performance “The Artist is Present” on exhibition in New York’s Museum of Metropolitan Art in 2010. In this performance, Marina and a member of the audience are seated on either side of a desk, silently locking eyes, while all around them a crowd of spectators looked on, waiting their turn. This simple action had a mysterious power over people. Some people would begin to cry as Marina looked at them, completely “present” for them, and then she began to weep also.

Our discussion started with questions and comments such as, “I wonder why the audience cried?” and “Like a staring contest, I think I’d start laughing!” and grew from there. As this particular ALF was attended by Japanese, American, and British participants, distinct cultural differences from each country influenced our conversation as well: “If they did this performance in Tokyo instead of Europe, do you think people would come?” “Eye contact seems more difficult for Japanese. Usually our eyes don’t meet...” “I’m hesitant to lock eyes with someone: you might give them the wrong impression, like you have feelings for them.”

In an open conversation where everyone shares their thoughts, Roger sometimes throws in a remark, such as the words of one reviewer of Marina’s performance. “The atmosphere Marina was able to create was reminiscent of a church confessional box, which is quite remarkable when you consider how public it was.” No matter the faith or background, the discussion easily drew people into the conversation, even first-time attenders.

The conversation naturally turned to the mystery of God’s gaze mentioned throughout scripture. “When Adam first sinned, he was separated from God and didn’t want to be seen.” “Hagar, the slave woman, called God ‘You are the God who sees me.’” “Jesus said to Nathaniel, ‘I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you.’”

ALF is never pushy about Christianity or making people believe the Bible. Roger, an organist with experience performing around the world, and his wife Abi, a pianist, are dedicated to creating a space where artists can gather, this time including many musicians and designers. This particular evening everyone happened to be Christian, but first-time visitors and people from all backgrounds are warmly welcomed.

Abi says she “hopes the arts will serve as a gateway to think about life, and through that, personally experience an encounter with God.” Living as a Christian does not mean detaching from the world, but rather living our everyday lives realizing God is present and at work all around us. This event cultivates a perspective of seeing the world through the lens of God’s Word.

This kind of work has huge significance in a country like Japan, which is not primarily Christian. Christianity is not only in Western cultures. Roger’s desire is to share together an appreciation for the excellence and charm of Japanese culture as part of this world, which was created by the same God. The discussion ended with a prayer, “With thanks to our strong, eternal, Creator God, who looks on us who are small and unworthy with a loving gaze.”

Starting next month, ALF will go from one meeting to two meetings per month in two different locations. For more details about ALF or other Community Arts Tokyo activities, please contact info@communityarts.jp.

Meditation on Incineration. I mean...

Itinerating. Type it in...wait for it... "did you mean 'incinerating'?" Thank you, spell-check.

OK, this support-raising journey isn't that bad, but on its rough days the comparison does give me a little chuckle.

And in all seriousness, it brings to mind passages throughout the Bible that refer to God growing, maturing, refining us like silver or gold: through fire. Painful imagery, right?

And I thought of this idea again as I was walking through the woods today and saw many of these. 

Whimsically twisty trees like this one were my favorite when playing in these woods as a little kid. Vines had grown up them, squeeeeezing the poor little trees as they tried to grow. But in time the vines fall away leaving the trees as strong as ever and, in my humble opinion, much more interesting and beautiful, like little works of art.

I can't wait to be back in Japan, learning and growing, loving and serving. But for now? I take a deep breath, go for a stroll, and praise God for the beautiful quirkiness of trees that have persevered through the uncomfortable times. And look back and forward and all around with thankfulness for the many times of rest and encouragement, for friends old and new, and for getting to be a part of the body of Christ in both the US and in Japan, in all of our quirky beauty.

And those whimsically twisty trees? They're still my favorite.

A Meditation on Incarnation

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us…”

I was first introduced to this piece singing alto with a children’s choir at summer camp for a “Christmas in July” concert. On break from university I would curl up, gazing at the Christmas tree, and blast it through my headphones. In Tokyo I would turn the volume on my laptop as high as it would go, feeling the harmonies swirl around me as I looked out on the river and the lights of the city. Regardless of my location, circumstances, mood… the beauty, humility, and glory of this piece draws me out of myself and to the feet of God in worship. (And yes, that link is me attempting to play this majestic piece composed for a large 8-part choir... on the organ. Unfortunately not doing the lyrics, music, or our great mysterious God justice, I know! But hopefully it gives you a general idea)

It is a song about the incarnation. The great mystery of Christmas: God taking on flesh.

“O great mystery,

and wonderful sacrament,

that animals should see the new-born Lord,

lying in a manger!

Blessed is the Virgin whose womb

was worthy to bear

Christ the Lord.

Alleluia!”

And it is a song about us. I mean really, am I that much better than an animal in comparison with our Lord? And He comes not just to let us see Him, but to move in with us! And the most mysterious of all? After He takes on flesh, lives with us, dies for us, raises victorious… He doesn’t even stop there. I think the greatest mystery of all comes next, as He gives us the magnificent title and role:  “Now you are the body of Christ…”

O great mystery! That God not only lived with and for humanity, but He purifies and calls us worthy, like Mary, to bear Christ the Lord. You and me. In our brokenness and weakness and big-hot-messiness. To be bearers of His Light, to be His Word made flesh in this world.

Incarnation. The God of the universe as a baby, born to a virgin. And most mysterious of all…in us. Alleluia!

~John 1:1, 14

~1 Corinthians 12:27

~M. Lauridsen

Chickens, Cats, and Delight

 I have never been much of an animal person, but as part of my “re-culture shock” of being in rural USA again after a few years in great big Tokyo, I am much more aware of the natural world of plants and animals surrounding me. And from the beauty of humming birds, to the horror of a dead mouse, to my current house-sitting situation with 2 cats and a coop full of chickens, this city girl is finding “normal” things pretty entertaining.

As soon as I open the back door, I hear the excited clucking. 16 scrawny legs scuttle awkwardly in a jumbled effort to be the closest to the hen-house gate. “Some one is coming! Maybe they’ll open the gate! Maybe we’ll be FREEEE!”( – at least, I’m pretty sure that’s what these chickens are going on about.) But as 8 heads turn side-ways to get a good look at who is coming, 8 beady eyes fix on the big, juicy, rotten pear in my hand. I open the gate just enough to slip my wrist through, tossing the pear to the far corner of the coop. After a split second ruckus and flurry of feathers all 8 chickens are happily pecking away for a beak-full of rotten fruit. Meanwhile I open the gate wide, close it behind me, help myself to all their eggs, and let myself out again: completely ignored.

Then we have the cats. On one side of the yard we have a stereotypical anti-social sleeping-all-day ball of fur. On the other hand…we have an outdoor cat who absolutely adores me. As I come home he runs up to the car, nearly getting himself squished to driveway-cat-paste in his eagerness to greet me. He rubs himself on my legs and finds the greatest pleasure in a simple pet on the head. But I am cruel; my ears calloused to the desperate mews as I stand up and head for the front door. Thus the battle of wits always begins. Usually I succeed: slipping into my quiet refuge and locking the door in the face of the mewing cat (usually without squishing his neck in the door – oops. Sorry), but twice the cat has had the victory: dashing through the open door as I fumble with groceries or a stack of mail. “I made it! I win! I am inside and I will never-ever-ever leave you! Now that you have reciprocated my love by allowing me in, PLEEEEEEASE keep petting me” ( - at least, I’m pretty sure that’s what he’s going on about).

I think of my awkward relationship with these animals, and I know it is an odd comparison, but I think of my relationship with God. Am I not a bit like the chickens sometimes? I come to an hour of quiet, a day of rest, and though my Father is right there, the gate open wide, I’m happy to instead fix my eyes on a glowing screen, scrolling through social media and watching TV shows (which in all their fun and wonderfulness are pretty much a gooshy rotten pear compared to my Glorious Abba). And while I know the cat's motives aren't pure either...when was the last time I would have stopped everything and risked my neck just to be with Him? And how thankful I am that He never plays a battle of wits with me, nor shuts the door in my face, nor laughs as I delight in rotten fruit. Oh no. Praise the Lord, He is not a city-girl house-sitter or even a business-like farm manager, but our God is our Shepherd, our Father: patient, overflowing with faithfulness and love. He opens the door wide every time; welcoming us to be with Him, delighting in us delighting in His glory.

迷子。Lessons on a "lost" child.

Clenched fists. Tear-streamed face. Heart-wrenching sobbing. Her 3-year-old frame looked small and fragile as businessmen, students, couples, families, all walked right by, maybe a quick glance before they pretended not to see her. Half hurrying to catch a train, half strolling along to their shopping.

Which way had her parents gone? I glanced around the train station, hoping to spot a frazzled looking parent. I crouch down to her level a few steps away, but being approached by a stranger/foreigner is still enough to instantly transform her tearful fear to terrified silence. (Oops.)

"Are you OK?" (nods affirmative) I try to ease the terror with a small smile, "I bet your mom or dad are close by, right?" My mind is racing: 'should I tell her to come with me to the station office around the corner, or, wait, can I say that in 3-year-old Japanese? yes, but is that going to scare her more...', when her tiny hand points behind me, to a man waiting quietly maybe 30 yards away by the station entrance. "Your Dad?" (nods affirmative)

Lesson #1: looks can be deceiving.

Lesson #2: the best way to get a Japanese toddler having a melt-down in the middle of a station to run to her Dad as fast as her legs can go, is a short conversation with a strange foreigner.

Lesson #3: I continued on my way to church, partly feeling bad (for not spotting the Dad, and terrifying this little kid), partly feeling OK (after all, I did fix the problem! Even if she wasn't lost, and just having a tantrum...and what if she had been lost?), and partly wondering what everybody else in the station was thinking as they walked right by her. But the little girl quickly faded from my mind as a million other thoughts took over, from the music I was playing for the service, to did I remember to send that email, to the meeting happening after worship, to 'wait, what was that Japanese word?', to what to eat for dinner tonight, to housing for the summer interns arriving soon, to raising support in the US this fall and when can I visit ____church, and...well, you get the idea.

Tonight I think back to the girl in the station, and the attitude of my mind/heart recently. No, I'm not having a melt-down; I'm doing great! But what does it mean when the default setting of my mind/heart is planning details (ok, sometimes worrying over details) instead of worshiping?

Sure, I know my Heavenly Dad is near. But do I act like it? Maybe, like my little not-so-lost friend, it's time to spend less time thinking about how I'd like things to go, and more time running to my Heavenly Daddy.