Like most other large cities in Japan, Fujimino, has many claims to fame, but I want to look at one of its most famous visitors, Tokugawa Ieyasu.

If you go to Fujimino right now, you’ll find a bustling metropolis with factories and acres of asphalt, but in the 1600’s it was a farming community with a beautiful river cutting through the deep green valley.

Tokugawa Ieyasu had been fighting on and off his entire life, and in 1603 he won a decisive battle and gained the title shogun at the age of 60. The word shogun means “military commander” but in practice it meant Ieyasu (ruler of Japan.)

After 50 years of fighting, though, he had a real problem. The people of Japan had learned that war was life. Every grown man was a warrior. It would be difficult to unite them and keep peace over a land where most people had known only battle for most of their lives.

So he created a strict set of rules to govern hunting and used it as a tool to transform the wartime violence of the past into a peacetime competition among equals for bragging rights. Effectively, he replaced war with hunting, and it worked. The status symbols of the day changed from war-trophies to prized birds of prey.

You may ask why this matters, and that would be a fair question. Tokugawa Ieyasu wanted to create a dynasty and to do what he needed for political peace united under him. He cleverly overcame the specter of war from Japan’s past, but there was another problem that he couldn’t figure out how to turn to his advantage: Christianity.

In 1614, as a last resort, he banned Christianity from Japan by signing the Christian Expulsion Act. He literally exiled Christians from his country, and he made no distinction between Catholic and Protestant. He thought they were all just too much trouble.

Amazingly, Ieyasu’s plans worked out as he’d hoped and his family ruled Japan for 250 years, but he unwittingly sentenced himself and his people to an eternity separated from God.

It wasn’t until 1871 that freedom of religion was reintroduced in Japan, and even after that there has been very few Christian missionaries entering the country. It’s estimated that less than 1 million Japanese have trusted Jesus Christ as their only hope for salvation.

What does all this mean? In a nutshell, Japan is like any other country: it needs to hear the Gospel, and that just isn’t happening in the vast majority of Japan! We’re too far behind. We need more help. In fact, we need your help. Would you join us in our endeavor of taking the Gospel to Japan?

There are several reasons that I like the original Karate Kid, but one of them relates directly to today’s Key City: Kanuma.

Ever seen one of these?

I remember Mr. Miyagi slowly, carefully pruning and training this strange little plant, and I was hooked. Thank you Japan for another awesome addition to my life! Ok, back to the story…

Bonsai trees don’t have what’s known as a taproot. That’s the deep root most plants have that gets down to the really important nutrients and water in the ground. Basically, this means that bonsai trees can’t grow in most places, because the soil isn’t good enough. That’s where Kanuma comes in.

Kanuma has a very special type of soil called Kanumatsuchi. A nearby volcano, Mt. Akagi, erupted and rained ash all over the region. Over the years, it mixed with the local soil and became something new and valuable. The soil from this region is more than twice as good as other cultivated soils at absorbing air and water, with better permeability and drainage.

People from all over the world buy bags of dirt from this city because of its “good ground.” We think that there is some good spiritual ground there, too. When we take the gospel to these people, the Word of God will find some “good ground” and bear fruit. Pray with us that among the more than 100,000 people in Kanuma City, we will find a fertile place to plant the seed of God’s Word.

Key City: Shibata is another example of a city that prospered and grew around a castle. The castle was founded in the 1590’s by Mizoguchi Hidekatsu, but it wasn’t completed until the mid 1600’s by his great-grandson. At the height of its power, the castle was made up of 11 keeps and 5 gatehouses. By all accounts it was a sight to behold.

This type of castle was constructed of wood and usually built next to a lake or surrounded by a moat. If you visit the castle today, you can walk through the

remaining gatehouse, but visitors aren’t allowed to cross the moat.

At that time, one of the greatest threats to large structures was fire. They didn’t have access to reliable fire-prevention methods or fire extinguishers, so if a wooden building caught fire, it had to be dealt with quickly or the building was surely lost. Imagine constructing a castle complex like Shibata all made of wood. You’d be worried too!

If you look at the top of the castle in these pictures, you’ll notice there are three points sticking up on the roof. If you look really close, you’ll see that they are three fish-like creatures, called Shachihoko (or Shachi for short). A literal translation would be something like “killer whale.” They have faces like lions with long teeth and the bodies of big fish. Weird decoration, you think?

There is actually some rationale behind it. In the country of India, the god of water supposedly rode on similar creatures, and when Buddhism made its way into China and eventually Japan, it brought this symbolism with it. Mizoguchi Hidekatsu followed the common practice of his day by placing these figures on the roof of his castle in the hope that this god would protect him from fire. In fact, Shibata Castle is the only one known to have three Shachi per roof instead of two. He really wanted to protect his life’s work.

Not to be too heavy-handed with this, but can’t you see the spiritual lessons to this story? If only there had been someone to say, “Let me introduce you to the God who can protect you from fire for all eternity!” Will you pray for Shibata, a city with over 100,000 people destined for a fiery eternity?