"Isogashii." A Japanese Word For...

I spent seventeen months in Japan as a missionary a couple of decades ago. Most readers of this blog probably know that. (Most readers of this blog are ... me.)


While I was there, I remember anxiously trying to contact several different families to have them continue with their missionary lessons. But at some point their answer had become, "Ah, isogashii." Japanese for "busy."


I know, I know. People are genuinely busy. There are a lot of demands in modern life. Moreover, there are distractions. There are things we sign ourselves up for that are like a huge time-sucking vortex. Sports, music lessons, clubs, community organizations. Each one may be worthy of our time and attention. But they do make us busy.


And yeah, I know that sometimes the words "I'm busy" is just code for "I don't really want to prioritize that" or "I'm not actually interested." That's just human nature.


Worst, in my case, "I'm busy" can sometimes be code for "I'm too self-absorbed."


But when we are instead filling our days and evenings and lives with things that don't matter as much as the "weightier matters," what are we trading? I think it's a dangerous drift when we let our kids get really busy with activities to where they can't attend family dinners on a regular basis, or they miss their church meetings or don't have time to serve others. Or not just our kids--ourselves.


Sometimes the good is the enemy of the best. Sometimes busy is the enemy of the best, also.


I keep telling myself, if I'm too busy to help a friend in need, I'm too busy. If my kids are too busy to go to their Wednesday night activity at church regularly, they are too busy and need to reevaluate their time. If our family is too busy to eat dinner together, then it's time to chop some activities. Because I don't want the BEST to fall victim to the GOOD.

Crying in the Darkness

One of the most dramatic and inspiring stories in the Book of Mormon, in my opinion comes in the 5th chapter of Helaman. In it, there are two missionaries imprisoned, bound, starved and their captors have come to kill them when a miracle occurs and they are delivered by a pillar of fire. Awesome. (I love the stories in this book so much.)



However, the part that struck me this morning was in verse 40 and 41, which comes later in the story, and doesn't happen to the missionaries, but to their fellow prisoners.


The prisoners have watched this miracle occur. And then they hear this voice out of heaven come to them. It tells them to repent and seek no more to destroy the servants of God. It comes two more times. The prisoners don't know what to do.

And then, a huge cloud of darkness comes and blots out all the light.


Okay. So that's got to be scary. Probably at the time the prison was some deep pit, too. (Just guessing.) They are really worried. They ask:

 40 And it came to pass that the Lamanites said unto him: What shall we do, that this cloud of darkness may be removed from overshadowing us?

And then a fellow-prisoner speaks up. His name is Aminadab, and he's been there with them a while. Probably not a great guy. Possibly a dissenter from God's path. But something awakens in this man and he knows what to do. Here's the quote:

 41 And Aminadab said unto them: You must repent, and cry unto the voice, even until ye shall have faith in Christ, who was taught unto you by Alma, and Amulek, and Zeezrom; and when ye shall do this, the cloud of darkness shall be removed from overshadowing you.

The thing that just slammed into my mind this morning was the "repent, cry unto the voice UNTIL ye shall have faith."




So, the repent thing isn't something that's going to take forever. It can be an instant change for them, a change of heart. But they still don't have faith, perhaps. But they have to cry unto the voice until they have faith.


Sometimes we've been in darkness. We are scared. We don't know what to do. We don't even know what to believe or how. But if we repent--soften our hearts and turn from hardness--then cry unto the Lord UNTIL we have faith, it is granted. The light does come.


In this story, as soon as they cry out for faith, the light comes. And understanding. Oh, yeah, and angels! (I told you this story was dramatic.)


But I also like the verb chosen: cry out. It's not the same word as pray. I sometimes think the word "pray" connotes a softness, a calm effort, a meditation almost.


Not this one. Instead, it's "cry out." This is an active, involved, urgently motivated calling upon God.


I'm pretty sure we've all been there at some point. I know I have. And I also know that the light does come. He loves us. He hears our cries.

When the Light Comes On

Last night when I got home from the youth group meeting (after being gone from 3 p.m. to almost 9:00), I was beat. But my 9 year-old said, "Mommy, can you help me with my math?"


Sigh. It has been a long year with the workbook she's using. It just won't click with her cute little mind. So we sat down and ... it was long division.


Do you remember learning long division? Was it the easiest, most fun thing ever? I'll wager my whole plate of blueberry muffins it wasn't.


I had a feeling we had a long night ahead of us.


Step by step I worked the first problem. Then I handed her the pencil and walked her through the second problem. And the third, and the fourth. Then on the fifth, I put her on her own. She started great. And got stuck. She couldn't remember to bring down the digit. So I drew an arrow on all the earlier problems, and then she drew the arrow on her own and brought it down. The visual clue kind of helped.


She worked it, found the answer, and then ... the smile. "Oh, Mommy. I think I get it."


She didn't. On the next three problems she got stuck in the same place after bringing down the digit.
But with a little reminder, telling her to look at the problems she'd done earlier for the steps, she did get it. She did!


Then I wrote down the steps:
1- Goes into
2- Multiply
3- Subtract
4- Bring down
Repeat 1, 2, 3, 4.


Maybe that won't make sense to anyone else, but it was how we were talking it out. I wrote it in the front cover of her workbook.


She worked the rest of the problems--including the story problems, and anyone out there who doesn't give a slight shudder at the term "story problem" ... is pretty much alone.


When we shut the book an hour later, she said, "Mommy! Long division is easy!"


The light had come on. And it shone! Not some dull little 20 watt bulb, either.


She went to bed happy, and so did I.


So this morning, I helped her double check last night's work with multiplication, and she still remembered the formula and still thought it was easy.


Is that success? I submit to you, gentle readers, that it is.


So now I sat here remembering the sweetness of it and thinking, I wonder if this is how the Lord feels when he has given us a challenge, walked us through it a few times, held our hand, given us the chance to work it out ourselves, and then sees us think we learned it, and then sees us rejoice when the light of understanding and growth really comes on.


I truly believe He rejoices with us. And I believe He gives us problems--including stuff akin to long division, and even worse, story problems of life, and the guidance to get through them. Best of all, His Son was there to set the example for how to get through any and all of our struggles. He felt the pain and will bless us through them.


He is the perfect Teacher.


I love Him so dearly.