Choices and Transitions: My Larger-Than-Life Uncle John, Part 1

John R. Raser’s life makes for rich biography. From the Pentagon to anti-war writing/teaching; from New Zealand’s oldest university to Australia’s newest one; from academics to surfing the big waves of Western Australia into his 60s, John’s virile intellectual brilliance and colorful persona dazzled and inspired. I’ve long thought someone should undertake the task of telling his story, but until then I offer this small sketch, moved by the confluence of two events: the eighty-eighth anniversary of John’s birth on June 8, 1935 and my imminent exit from the U.S. to Mexico—a move in sync with John’s values. 

I dedicate this work—a welcomed labor of love—to my son John Gerald Lewis. “I have a namesake!” wrote Uncle John to his sister, my mother Esther, upon learning of his grand nephew’s birth. I honor John G. on his thirty-first birthday (June 9), admiring the now decade-long embrace of his own adopted country, Japan. Had he lived longer, Uncle John and his namesake would have delighted in comparing notes.

John Rudolph Raser’s journey in a nutshell? Raised on an Iowa farm by a religiously conservative family, he attended Messiah Academy and Upland College (both of the Brethren in Christ Church). Declaring himself a (philosophical) conscientious objector, he did “alternate service” with UNESCO and Hungarian refugees in Europe. After attending Harvard and Stanford (PhD in Political Science, speciality in international affairs, 1964), he worked with the Western Behavioral Sciences Institute (WBSI)—then focused on international negotiation and deterrence strategies for defense, among other things—leading to consultations with the Pentagon, the Office of Naval Research, and the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission.

While still with WBSI, teaching at Claremont Graduate School during the time of growing concerns about the Vietnam War changed the course of John’s life. He made a big jump across the Pacific Ocean to the University of Otago in New Zealand, then to Murdoch University in Western Australia, and finally to Gracetown—a small coastal community south of Perth where for the last decade and a half of his life John created homes and gardens, generously hosted family and friends, read widely, traveled around Australia, to the U.S. and elsewhere, wrote deliciously descriptive letters, and surfed…until lung cancer took his life on May 18, 2000, a few weeks shy of his sixty-fifth birthday.

Upon his death came many tributes; two succinctly capture something of his essence:

“The only brother—a toddler with golden curls adored by his six older sisters, the boy weeping bitterly over his dead dog, the college student feeling his rising powers, debating with golden tongue in various countries.” (Lois Raser, sister/subject of other posts here, d. 2021)

“John chose his life. He had the strength, the energy, the power to do anything he might have selected. He chose to teach. He chose to build. He chose to love.” (Luke Little, lifelong friend from childhood, d. 2020)

Pentagon Hello, Goodbye

As a teacher, John had the humility—a trait that tempered his imposing intelligence—to learn from his students, revealing in an interview with the official magazine of the Otago University Students’ Association (Critic Te Arohi, Vol. 48. No. 3, March 21, 1972) the role students played in the move from California to New Zealand:

“At Stanford I came under the influence of people…working with the U.S. government on how to design and deploy nuclear weapons systems (John became an expert in simulation and games theory; his book Simulation and Society: An Exploration of Scientific Gaming was published in 1969). I felt about my work with Polaris Submarine deployment, the Minuteman Missile System and others that it was the obligation of the thoughtful scholar…[and it was an] ego-building way to spend your late twenties…wined and dined by the White House and the Pentagon, flown around the world in military jets and delivering papers at conferences.” 

How did an “Iowa farm boy cum pacifist,” as John described himself, end up thus? “It’s not as strange as it sounds,” John told the interviewer, “for at that time in the U.S. there was a real feeling of optimism about the world and most people then felt that the U.S., despite all her faults, was probably the best bet the world had for keeping some kind of peace and sensible world order.”

He continued: “For a long time I didn’t give much thought to what I was doing…then…Vietnam got crammed down our throats. I took a professorship at a graduate school in California and my students taught me that I was a fool. I came to believe that what I had been doing…was a part of the whole death machine that America has been so busily creating in the last couple decades. So I quit. I said no. I devoted myself to teaching and to writing anti-military essays. And soon I wasn’t invited to the Pentagon anymore.”

“I thought constantly about leaving the U.S. I know you can’t divorce yourself completely from sin. But you can decide how closely you are going to be associated with it. So I thought about going to Sweden or Denmark or Mexico or Canada. About a year ago a friend said, ‘Why don’t you try New Zealand?’ I wrote to universities here and soon had a job.” 

Not just a job, but joy in new discoveries: “The train I take into Dunedin when I go to teach passes the Port Chalmers docks with their complement of half a dozen ships—Japanese, British, Russian, American, Dutch, and the N.Z. ‘coasters’ which are everywhere. The ferries…which handle the traffic between North and South islands, are romantic…with songs, waved goodbyes, strips of confetti…and with the tipsily sung Maori farewell song. Something in those trips releases a reservoir of joy in me, so that I want to shout with the delight of being alive, young, healthy, and at home in the world.” (letter, March 1972)

More delight…in the unexpected cosmopolitan milieu: “Any [small] gathering is almost certain to include Americans, English, Dutch. Tens of thousands Chinese and Indians have made their homes here too.” And comments on socioeconomics: “The Maoris are much like the American blacks in social standing; the island immigrants: Cook Islanders mostly, are at the bottom of the economic totem pole.” (The three generations photo from New Zealand labeled by my mother, Esther Raser Engle; from her collection)

While appreciating the “philosophy and atmosphere” at Otago, John, well into his first year there, was already considering a move. As a recent southern California transplant (with wife and two children), weather was a factor: “There is too much wind and not enough hot sun here.” He was also struggling with a professional decision: “Seems like a choice between doing what I know I can do well—teach, help build groovy organizations, be an institutional man—and what I don’t know whether I’m really capable of doing or not—that is, being a serious writer.” He was looking at opportunities around Australia, feeling drawn to Western Australia—to Perth, which he’d heard was “sunswept and beautiful.”

Murdoch Years 

Teaching in Perth it would be. Geoffrey Bolton*, John’s colleague at Murdoch University (the two were among ten foundation professors of the school birthed in 1973), shed more light on John’s growing interests (John Raser: a Memoir, In Touch, Vol. 3, No. 2, 2000):

“He looked to a role as a university teacher who might integrate the exploration of emotional consciousness with the more traditional concerns of the social scientists. He also wanted to work in a society with power structures less entrenched than those in the United States…He was attracted partly by the knowledge that Murdoch was under sustained pressure to develop a program in peace and conflict studies…it also helped that Western Australia has fine beaches, and he was already a dedicated surfer” (yes, but new to the sport; John started surfing at 35, noting in a letter to his father that most people are giving it up by that age).

As for the “golden tongue” John’s sister referenced, Bolton continued: “I have never known an interviewee to give a more brilliant performance…charming, eloquent and persuasive, he sketched a vision of…the university’s role as a place for social healing. John even admitted—with a candor refreshing after the relentless self-advertisement of most short-listed applicants—that he had made mistakes in the past and would make more at Murdoch.” Shortly after his appointment John “became dean of what he insisted should be called the School of Social Inquiry, suggesting open-ended pluralism rather than the conventional ‘Social Sciences’.”

John Raser was anything but conventional. Bolton again: “The people of Perth hardly knew what to make of this Murdoch phenomenon with his sparkling blue eyes, ear-ring, kaftan, boots, and ambience of genial testosterone.”

Testosterone indeed. John’s sexuality (“a bit like a blowtorch,” he wrote) was frank and freely expressed. My first exposure to it came as a teen riding with him from Colorado Springs to a camp in the Rockies for a Raser family reunion. He turned from the driver’s seat to his wife and said: “Let’s stop and have a quickie…we only need five minutes.” That didn’t happen; instead he belted out “We are climbing Jacob’s ladder” as we made our way up a mountain pass. 

Biomedical tidbit: Research indicates a strong heritability for serum testosterone—genetic factors account for 40-70% of the variation in testosterone levels in men and 65% in women. John’s father Rudolph Raser was, per his daughter Evelyn, “highly sexed, no doubt about it.” While visiting Grandpa Rudy (b. 1899) and his second wife in the early 80s, Rudy said to me, “You’re a nurse; is there any reason why a woman in her 80s should not enjoy afternoon sex?” 

Rudy’s religious conversion soon after marriage shaped and guided the rest of his long life. “Daddy’s faith ruled his intellect,” wrote John. But it did little to dampen Rudy’s tendency to racy commentary. Sharing a meal with him at a restaurant when I was fifteen, he said, “That girl has a beautiful ass,” eyeing a table across the way where sat a young woman in short shorts. “He just liked to talk, partly to provoke a reaction,” said Aunt Evelyn when I shared this anecdote with her years later.

John’s robust sexuality—likely influenced by both nature (genetics) and nurture (I imagine comments he heard from his father over the years!)—was given free rein per his views on intimate relationships (expressed in a 1983 letter): “My fundamental life metaphors are open-ness and exploration [so] I have always itched under the closure and emotional immobility which seems the inevitable (?) consequence of coupling on a long term basis.” 

Those “life metaphors” were no doubt shaped by the Human Potential Movement of the 1960s—a movement largely promoted by California’s Esalen Institute—espousing the ethic that the inner-self should be freely expressed in order to reach one’s true potential. An early letter from New Zealand (John’s wife Charleen writing) notes the possibility of several new friends forming an “Esalen East type of thing…with the usual bag of encounter, gestalt, bio-energetics, rolfing, yoga and potting, etc.” As to sexual freedom, John and Charleen were among numerous couples interviewed by Carl Rogers for his book Becoming Partners: Marriage and Its Alternatives (1972). An interesting read. Rogers—considered by many to be the most influential psychologist in American history—and John were colleagues at WBSI.

Perhaps John’s itch abated. But during that circa 1983 interval, between relationships, he wrote: “It’s the first time I’ve lived alone in 27 years and I’m utterly astonished at how much I like it. I also like me as company in my house, which I didn’t even know. My main problem seems to be fending off eager ladies from 19 to 50. I occasionally get the feeling that the empty house is the irresistible bait—the male who goes with it is incidental! Or conversely, that it is my public image which is attractive—the person behind it reshaped in perception to fit the image.”

I’ll not write more about John’s personal life (“private” life doesn’t seem to fit one who was so open about his thoughts, feelings, and activities!) except to note that over the course of his years he engaged in three significant partnerships (with beautiful, intelligent women)—unions that produced and/or nurtured six bright, gifted children. As with all families, however defined, there were joys and sorrows, ruptures and repairs.

What was John’s “public image” in the 1970s, early 80s? Bolton explained that soon after settling in at Murdoch John was “in demand as a commentator in the media, challenging the accepted and encouraging the permissive. Identifying with the local community, he was…a leading figure in the ‘Fremantle renaissance’ of the 1970s. On campus he was at times an exasperating colleague, but he was never dull and never mean, and to many he proved uniquely stimulating.” 

Golden Tongue

John gave radio talks on the Australian Broadcasting Commission’s “Notes on the News” program. Edited versions of the talks plus other essays (some co-authored by Frances Rowland) on various aspects of Australian society—urbanization, education, medicine, violence, drinking, drugs, militarism, politics, and foreign policy—were published in Cabbages & Kings: Essays on Australian Society (1977). Here two excerpts from the talk/essay “Global Chess,” in response to the revelation that the U.S. (Nixon/Kissinger) played a role in the 1973 Chilean coup that ousted Allende and ushered in the brutal Pinochet era:

“I’m not surprised—he (Kissinger) was a professor of mine at Harvard in the early 1960s, and even then he made his morality quite clear. For the diplomat, taught Kissinger, there is only one rule—and that is for his country to win. The world is seen as a kind of global chess game, in which nations make moves and counter-moves. The great powers are the players, while lesser counties, revolutionary movements, military hardware, populations, and other resources are the pieces to be defended and taken. There is no compassion, no concern for human joy or sorrow, no moral code limiting what can and cannot be done. There is only strategy.”

“Sometimes I think it’s about time for the pawns—the people of the world—to stop being so easily pushed around and to demand something better. Why don’t we? The evidence of duplicity, self-seeking and manipulation on the part of politicians is overwhelming. What keeps us from rising up in rage and stopping it? I suppose the answer is two-fold. On the one hand is a kind of weary cynicism which expects nothing better. On the other hand is a simple naïveté which permits us to be gulled over and over again. But both these attitudes produce apathy and thus are luxuries purchased at the expense of democracy. America is learning the bitter lesson of how expensive those luxuries are.”

John was prescient in predicting societal trends as revealed in those essays and in some of his multiple publications from the WBSI. He was able to synthesize knowledge from many fields and create new paradigms for understanding the world. His writings on peacemaking in a militant world won him the United Nations Association of Australia Media Peace Prize** four consecutive years.

The “golden tongue” of John’s Harvard debating days was diminished (his perception, at least) when he moved to Australia, per these poignant lines to a sister: “As someone who’s spent most of my life as a word-smith, my loss of voice in immigrating to Australia has probably been the most severe price I’ve had to pay—especially in the years of my professional life here. May have been good for me though, over all. My native eloquence was always a two edged sword in many ways. Here it cuts little ice. Australians are pretty scornful of eloquence in general and certainly not inclined to credit American forms of it. They clearly find it rather embarrassing. The quick retort, the clever put-down, and the cynical barb are more admired forms of presentation here.” (letter, 1998)

Culture-related communication issues aside, did John have professional weaknesses? Bolton noted: “His lecturing style generated widespread appeal, although critics alleged he was better at challenging orthodoxy than in offering students systematic alternatives. If he rejected the capitalist work ethic he was certainly no ally of the Marxists. He saw himself as enabling individuals to live life more abundantly.” 

“John became easily bored with bureaucratic practices,” wrote Bolton, “nor could he find the taste for the infighting on committees and lobbying necessary to protect the innovative. Having been viewed by many as encapsulating the Murdoch ethos in its first years, he seemed in danger of becoming a more peripheral figure as the seventies gave way to the pragmatic eighties. Tenured impotence on a professional salary did not suit John. He took the honorable course of resigning and moved to Gracetown.”

* Geoffrey Bolton went on to become Chancellor at Murdoch and was named Western Australia's 2006 Australian of the Year.

** John's letter to a sister offered this information. My query to the UN Association of Australia for details did not receive a reply.

The Green-Eyed Monster: Fight, Flee, or Find Freedom?

Struggling with work related or sibling or Twitter rivalry? It’s often about envy or jealousy—“the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on” (Shakespeare’s Othello). If you’ve ever been the target of envy-driven accusations or machinations, I have some survived-it thoughts to share.  

Sages through the ages have warned about Shakespeare’s monster, pondered its genesis. Milton in Paradise Lost credits “The infernal serpent; he it was, whose guile stirred up with envy and revenge, deceived the mother of mankind.” Solomon said envy “rots the bones” (Proverbs 14:30). James (New Testament) linked “bitter envy” and “selfish ambition,” noting they are “unspiritual, demonic,” leading to “disorder and every evil practice.” 

If you don’t buy the concept of sin (envy, per Roman Catholic theology, is a cardinal or capital sin along with pride, greed, lust, anger, gluttony, and laziness), philosophers, essayists, and psychologists have also described the toxic, binding nature of envy: 

Ivan Illich declared: “In a consumer society there are inevitably two kinds of slaves: the prisoners of addictions and the prisoners of envy.” 

Doris Lessing detailed envy as a “poisonous circle of hate, excluding everything but itself, ascribing merit only to itself” while reflecting in African Laughter on those who execute “the revenge of the second-rate” on first-rate writers. 

Mental health gurus cite envy as a destructive emotion that can generate depression and anxiety. They link envy to underlying hurt and insecurity. The National Institute for the Clinical Application of Behavioral Medicine (nicabm.com) in the course “How to Ease Damaging Patterns of Jealousy and Envy” offers this insight: childhood wounds can generate envy though many are unaware of the connection between the two. 

I am enviably (!) free of childhood wounds but I continue to learn from those seeking healing from such and to honor all who embrace that rigorous journey. My wounds came later (mentioned elsewhere), generating the search for a salve and understanding of the wounders. A recent re-encounter with envy-related maliciousness, however, threatened my peace. How do we deal with this universal challenge? 

This is what I’ve learned: 

We can’t fight envy with logic/persuasion. “Envy is insatiable,” wrote C.S. Lewis: “The more you concede to it the more it will demand. No attitude of humility which you can possibly adopt will propitiate [one] with an inferiority complex.” 

Sometimes fleeing is the best response to envy. Life is short; we are to thrive! Seek different friends/colleagues, different work, where feasible. If struggling with envious siblings, create “family” among those unthreatened by your strengths and gifts. 

Finding freedom from envy is a worthy goal, and it cuts both ways. Deborah Tannen in You Were Always Mom’s Favorite instructs the envious: “If you feel small next to [someone], get bigger!” As for the envied, compassion for the hurts and insecurities that generate envy can ease the pain of being attacked…and quash the temptation to counter attack. 

Attackers appear mean and petty as they attempt to diminish others. I’ve noticed this among journalists on Twitter…so many competing for readers, attention, often picking at one another. Hooray for those who demonstrate both confidence and humility, who offer civil, supportable critiques rather than cheap, snide put downs. 

How can we as parents, mentors, or teachers help envy-proof our children? My suggestions: 

1. Affirm, nurture, and celebrate their unique gifts and strengths while partnering any weaknesses or struggles. 

2. Model gratitude for and contentment with what you have/who you are and encourage them to do the same. 

3. Limit their time on social media and counter messages promoting the lie that one’s worth is dependent on having more (things, beauty, friends, influence, recognition).     

I dedicate this post to my two sons who hope to be parents one day…

Where are the Peacemakers?

Troubles abound and I can’t put my head in the sand...but to preserve inner peace I (among other things) avoid talking heads biased left or right and read BBC and NPR news—both billed as “center” by AllSides Media Bias Ratings (allsides.com).  A few nights ago, however, my peace—and sleep—were threatened by the potential rupture of a valued relationship. My friend and I had agreed NOT to talk about politics...but then we did, and out came the differences that threaten to divide us.  But must they divide; should they divide?

A middle-of-the-night search for answers led me to a study by More in Common (MiC) (moreincommon.com), an international initiative “set up in 2017 to build communities and societies that are stronger, more united and more resilient to the increasing threats of polarization and social divisions.”  MiC’s research/report Hidden Tribes (hiddentribes.us) breaks Americans into seven groups, from left to right.  The most active groups are on the extremes—Progressive Activists on the left (8% of Americans) and Devoted Conservatives on the right (6%). Members of both tend to be white, wealthy, educated and very vocal.  

Roughly two-thirds of Americans fall into what the Hidden Tribes authors call “the exhausted majority.”  Exhausted by what?  The polarization, the mud-slinging.  We, the majority, agree with the need to do more listening and compromising.  Who will lead us?

Conservative political and cultural commentator David Brooks notes: "Unfortunately, people in the exhausted majority have no narrative...no coherent philosophic worldview to organize their thinking and compel action, [but] when they get one I suspect it will look totally unlike the two dominant narratives today.  These narratives are threat narratives.  But the people who make positive change usually focus on gifts, not deficits.  They tell stories about the assets we have and how we can use them together."

During a recent trip to Pennsylvania, I met poet and peacemaker Katrina Gehman.  I was inspired by her short, engaging video Cardinal Directions   https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Z2djOVlDcDM&list=PL7d7SIWC7wewD-Y6D7bIEN27ERybBC4s8&index=2

I sent Katrina info on More in Common and she responded with info on Braver Angels (braverangels.org), a diverse group of Americans “come together to answer back to those forces that would tear us apart through partisan cynicism and political tribalism.” Today I became a dues-paying member ($12 annual).  I want to be a peacemaker and my first task was to write this post and email the link to friends and family.

On taking a (low) risk with a stranger during the time of the virus

Having waited awhile in the Wells Fargo drive thru line for an appointment to update address per my recent move back to Pueblo, Colorado, I have 90 minutes before a noon opening with a banker.  Lured by the thought of a sausage and egg croissant at Dunkin' Donuts, I hit their drive thru and park at a hotel facing a frontage road just off I-25.  Windows down to catch the sun-warmed spring breeze, I savor my meal while watching passers-by: two youth on motorized scooters, an attractive young Latinx man with a backpack, and a tall, stooped woman who makes her way slowly from the hotel to a nearby bus stop bench.  She intrigues me, from her off-kilter brown wig fringing a navy ski jacket to her dark knee-length skirt, yellow anklets, and laced flat black shoes...a certain style in her dishevelment.

A green city bus sporting a sleek sign for Canna (marijuana--legal in Colorado where local dispensaries appear to be booming) soon arrives. The woman approaches the bus door; it opens briefly. The driver must have said no entry without a mask; the woman fumbles in her purse while the man with backpack, mask in place, stands the recommended six feet away.  After a few minutes the bus leaves would-be riders at the curb just as the woman dons her mask.  So much for their plans!  The two exchange a few words; the man, who had come from the north, proceeds south.  He’s young and strong and can walk a distance.  But what of the woman?  She may have medical needs. I watch her enter the automatic hotel doors through my rearview mirror, take the last sips of my coffee.  I should help her.

She sits in a lounge chair in the lobby, magazine in hand. “I’m a registered nurse; I saw you were not able to get on the bus and wonder if I could take you where you want or need to go.”  “Come a bit closer, I’m having a little trouble hearing you.”  Intelligence in her bespectacled brown eyes and calm, measured voice.  She displays no obvious signs of illness and she's not a sputterer who, were she presymptomatic for COVID-19 or an asymptomatic carrier, could potentially share the virus while talking. I follow local health department news: the Pueblo case count low, contact tracing* of the infected happening, wise protocols in place for the past few weeks. My time of concern after being with son Owen who could have been exposed to the virus while trucking around California is over.  Taking her in my car is a minimal risk for us both.  We exchange names.  A young woman with an encouraging smile (no mask) comes from behind the lobby desk--with its plastic shield--and stands a few feet away: “Thank you; she's been with us a long time.”  

“I was going to Walmart” says Margo (I've changed her name), rising, her open jacket exposing a grease-stained red turtleneck, “but it would be more interesting for you if we go to the art museum, wouldn't it?”  “I think it may be closed,” I say.  “I was just there a couple days ago,” she smiles. “We’ll give it a try, then.”

We drive to the museum (closed, but a friendly young man with bandana over his nose and mouth emerges to let us know some exhibits are available online) and then on to Walmart, all the while talking easily. She speaks of her life in Paris, New York City.  “I was born in the 1700s,” she says.  Hmm...delusion? dementia? maybe she believes in reincarnation? "What kind of work have you done, Margo?" "I published a magazine on politics and culture for awhile." Her father Dutch, we exchange some Dutch phrases and a little Spanish and French after she tells me she speaks five languages and I mention my years in Mexico, in Africa with Dutch volunteers, work in Haiti.  

“What brought you to Pueblo,” I ask. “Unfulfilled hope for an interesting place away from a big city." She bemoans lack of access to a computer and the New York Times since closure of Pueblo libraries. Later I google her name, learn more of her robust life (she is almost 90)...now confined by circumstances to Walmart outings and a small hotel room with TV, microwave, fridge; "It's quite crowded with all my books."

Parting at Walmart, she asks:  “Do you ever come by the hotel?”  “No, but I can.”  She smiles: “We could enjoy coffee or lunch together.”  “I'd like that, Margo."  Exiting the Walmart bathroom minutes later, I meet her driving a motorized cart.  She asks: "Can I buy you a small treat here?  It's a sausage tidbit."  "Thanks so much, but I must get to my appointment.  We'll meet again."  She smiles and nods.  

* Contact tracing (and accurate testing) essential to infection management, reducing fear, allowing economies to revive!

See https://www.npr.org/sections/goatsandsoda/2020/04/22/840232210/how-do-you-do-contact-tracing-poor-countries-have-plenty-of-advice

Two more excellent, important articles:

https://medium.com/the-atlantic/why-some-people-get-sicker-than-others-f64796b01486

https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20200421-will-we-ever-be-immune-to-covid-19

  

God's Samurai: Spiritual Lessons Learned in Japan

John's house at left

Late August 2019 my sons John (27) and Owen (28) and I sat at a table in John’s small home next to the Japanese Holiness Church where he’s an associate pastor, in the city of Sakado, near Tokyo.  Owen and I laid hands on John as I rose and prayed Ephesians 10:11: “Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.”

“I’m seeing a vision of myself clothed as a samurai,” said John.*  Joy!  Gratitude!  My tears flowed.  Just moments earlier John had been freed from two demons that had troubled him for years.

John’s journey to spiritual health was—like Owen’s (described in the July 2015 blogpost Treasure!)—arduous.  They shared commonplace sins of my youth (Psalm 25) and some spiritually dark generational influences still being discerned.  Both sons were, of course, troubled by the divorce of their parents; John’s living abroad (since 2013) made processing harder, plus his plate was full with language learning and work.  John was skeptical about the enemy’s role in the divorce; I discerned intellectual disdain as I had with my husband (see January 2019 blogpost Demonization and Healing).  And in spite of numerous open-hearted exchanges, something simmered and sometimes surfaced: my sense of being accused.  Relationships are complex; my intent is not to blame but to show how the enemy works.

Accusations are a hallmark of satanic influence.  Writers in both Old Testament (Zechariah) and New Testament (John, in Revelation) refer to Satan as an accuser.  Peter Horrobin, in Healing Through Deliverance, writes: “So what happens in the demonic realm if we start criticizing and judging people instead of accepting them?…we open ourselves up to doing the enemy’s work of being an accuser…our cooperation with the enemy invites a demon to overlay our personalities with its particular characteristics and job function.”  Horrobin is quick to point out that the presence of a demon is not an excuse for sin; we have free will.  “But,” he notes, “it will be a struggle to be set free without real repentance and deliverance.”

John at his church

How can I help John? I wondered.  His call and commitment to Japan had inspired many, his gifts honored by both teachers and peers.  My sense of urgency grew as his plans to marry Makiba, a lovely Japanese woman, solidified; “It will likely happen this year,” he told me in February.  “I’ll be coming!” I said.  Two months later, during a time of worship, God called me to spend extended time in Japan.  I’ve never heard the audible voice of God, as did Moses on the mountain or Paul on the road to Damascus, but I know when he speaks to me.  “My sheep hear my voice,” said Jesus, “and I know them, and they follow me.”

Following is not always easy; obstacles strewed my path: questions about my motivations (from John; indirectly from his father), life distractions, spiritual fatigue and discouragement.  But finally, with John’s warm welcome, I flew to Japan seven weeks prior to his wedding date of August 31…eager to see his work, meet Makiba’s family (she’d visited us in Mexico a year and a half earlier), learn a little Japanese, and help folks at John’s church with English—an offer he’d endorsed: “Most members who want to improve their English are your age, Mom.”

The early days were tough!  Grateful for John’s willingness to have me in his home, I tried to honor his routines, etc.  But two strong personalities now lived in close quarters!  In spite of my efforts at cultural appropriateness, John found fault with things I did—from how I placed my shoes outside the living area to the the ways I addressed others, and even leaving a shopping cart briefly unattended in a grocery store.  Argh!  “John is more Japanese than the Japanese,” quipped John’s close friend with whom I joked about this.  I discerned bondage to cultural mores; the expectation of perfection in Japan is entrenched and it can wound.  Within a week of arrival, sensing heavy spiritual oppression, I thought I can’t stay in this house!

Recognizing Satan’s effort to remove me (!), I asked for prayer support from Owen, who said: “Trust what God shows you, Mom.”  John and I forged ahead, tackled our conflicts, and laughed at how similarly stubborn we are.  But when I suggested we pray together, he said matter-of-factly: “I haven’t been praying lately in the traditional sense of the word.”  Hmm.  He reflected briefly, recognized something was amiss spiritually.  He was taking daily doses of online classes with Jordan Peterson; I listened in sometimes.  “Peterson is wise in many ways, but should not replace your communion with the Lord,” I cautioned.  

At Yokohama Baptist Church with friend Yuki

A number of John’s parishioners and friends opened their hearts and homes to me; they praised John’s language fluency and commitment to Japan.  I felt parental pride, and longed even more for John’s freedom and strengthening of spirit!  Two dear women began praying for me and for John (these treasured friendships continue by email).  When Owen arrived ten days before the wedding, we were buoyed by one another’s faith that John’s deliverance was at hand!  I went to Yokohama for awhile to give them time together.  When I returned the spiritual battle intensified.  Owen and I prayed and pressed forward: “This needs to be dealt with prior to your marriage, John!”  Three days before the wedding John said courageously: “Let’s do this now.”

With friend Marina at Sakado bus station

Deliverance work is best done in pairs—by believers who’ve asked the Lord to search their own hearts, who are humbly dependent on God, gentle in helping seekers identify unconfessed sin and/or unhealed wounds, and confident in commanding demons in the name of Jesus to disclose their job function and to leave when they have no grounds to stay.  John notes the relevance of “identifying past sins and their root motivations,” adding: “Prior to deliverance, I couldn’t have imagined some of the ways in which my past decisions had been negatively affecting my attitude and behavior.” 

Seeking healing for ourselves and helping one another is part of maturing in Christ.  Satan keeps us from this aspect of discipleship through fear and lack of knowledge; my own prayer a couple decades ago was God, please don’t call me to such work!  But he did call me, and he may call you!  See resource links in my previous post and/or feel free to contact me at jan.engle.lewis@gmail.com.  Meanwhile let’s persevere in prayer for those in the household of faith struggling with spiritual oppression, love them, and not take offense when accused, remembering as did David in Psalm 69: “The Lord…does not despise his own that are in bonds.”

The samurai of old waited on a person of rank and were trained in military tactics and strategy, an apt image for followers of the way of Christ.  Paul wrote: “For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does.  The weapons we fight with [—the word of God, petitioning prayer in the Spirit, persevering alertness, per Ephesians 6] are not the weapons of the world.  On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds.  We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” (II Corinthians 10:3-5, NIV)

*John’s vision included a white tiger next to the samurai, facing the same direction; he came to see the tiger as representing his soon-to-be wife: “The point of the vision, I think, is that God has called me and Makiba to serve the Lord in a way that makes use of the good already present in Japanese culture.”