Today was a long day of driving and visiting a few churches. If the 20 KM mandatory evacuation zone was not created, we could have enjoyed our trip on the road near the coast straight up north from Iwaki city and saved a couple of hours. We had to make a detour to get to the churches in Soma and Minami-Soma cities, located 20 to 30KM north of Fukushima Dai-chi.
Rev. Sasaki has been a pastor for 55 years and during that time, he experienced four major disasters in Japan. He moved to Kashima Eiko Church in Fukushima last April and he strongly feels this is where God has called him to be right now.
“The 30 KM radius zone from the nuclear plant is a death valley. Like Galilee, it is over this valley of death where Jesus proclaimed his Kingdom,” says the courageous pastor in anticipation to see Fukushima coming under the Kingdom reign.
Compassion Fatigue.
This is what relief and development professionals call physical and mental exhaustion due to the heavy, intensive nature of relief and other humanitarian aid work. It is called compassion fatigue because of the core nature of the work involves compassion. But we as limited human beings do not have unlimited compassion like God. We get tired, stressed, and if waited too long, we experience burnout and other worse consequences. At some point we need to stop and rest as God commanded.
A few years ago, three UN personnel published a book based on their experience with ineffective multilateral organizations’ approaches and how these workers survive on the edge “professionally.” The title is called Emergency Sex and Other Desperate Measures: A True Story of Hell on Earth. (No, I am not joking, you can look it up on amazon.com, if you wish!) Sadly, a vocation that could be holy and compassionate seems to have turned to some kind of adrenaline junkies inside what may appear to be glamorous to many of today's young people who seek adventure combined with professional skills.
When I was first asked to come to help the local partner organization in Japan last month, I became excited by the opportunity but also worried as I began collecting information on the local context and capacity in Fukushima. Turning these ordinary pastors and congregations to relief workers? I was excited first because that seemed like a strategic long-term solution in a unique situation like Fukushima right now. But I was worried what if they were already too burnt out without appropriate skills after the initial few weeks of high adrenalin rush and suddenly collapse with no adequate follow-up? I prepared what I could best any way - how to rest amidst chaos.
Today, I felt in my gut that I might be wrong. The small, resilient church in Japan was built on the blood of martyrs several hundred years ago. These ordinary folks in Fukushima are ready to face fearlessly whatever the future holds. I felt like I was witnessing to some Stephens in Acts 7. I felt deeply privileged and humbled by their faith and their lives.
Japanese people love gardens and they know how to make things beautiful, especially small things beautiful. On our way out after our short visit with Rev. Sasaki, I noticed there were a few flowers growing in his rather barren garden with an old cross stained glass on one side of the wall. They looked to me as if the 30 KM zone of the Death Valley will soon turn to a garden city with flowers and trees as people like Rev. Sasaki and his congregation will fearlessly continue tending the land.
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