During the day, the place was alive with the hustle and bustle of many people hard at work. At night, they all disappeared into their rooms. The halls were deserted and the place fell silent. It went from one extreme to the other. The atmosphere lent itself to work productivity, but after working hours there was just nothing happening. Sadly, there didn’t seem to be any life outside of work.
Most of the people there were Japanese. Since we had arrived in Tokyo, I had learned that the Japanese were generally not accustomed to practicing hospitality. The Lord showed me that as often as possible I was to invite one person from the building to our room for dinner. I wasn’t sure if we would have enough food to feed ourselves, let alone provide a meal for someone else. I also knew how particular the Japanese were about their rice. What if I couldn’t cook it right?
Whatever my reservations, we managed to open our door to several of the missionaries there. We could see that they were surprised when we invited them for dinner. It might have been a small thing, but it was an opportunity for us to be a blessing. They needed to know that they were loved for who they were and not only for what they did. We were also blessed by some who did the same for us.
