Resident Foreigners

I was listening to a sermon recently on 1 Peter, where Peter talks about Christians as resident foreigners in the world. I realized with some surprise that I am, in fact, currently a resident foreigner in Japan.

When Peter was writing to the Jews of the dispersion, he was speaking to individuals who were in the midst of a country, language, people, and culture not their own. “This is not my home” wasn’t just a metaphor to them; they actually were immigrants. And since I am currently able to taste a little of that, I thought I would offer a few thoughts on what it’s actually like to be a resident foreigner.

1. You don’t care about being different.

When I visited Europe, I did my best to blend in with the crowd. In England or Germany, I figured out that if I dressed a little classier, didn’t say much, and pretended to know where I was going, I could pass as a citizen. Not here. Japanese citizens look at me and assume 1) I speak only English and 2) I require assistance (they’re super nice about it).

When you’re obviously a resident foreigner, there’s no sense in pretending you know what’s going on to save face; there’s none to save. Everyone has already decided you’re clueless. There’s no sense trying to fit in; you stick out like a sore thumb. There’s no sense trying to ‘become a part of the culture.’ It’s just not going to happen. So you don’t have to worry about it – feel free to wear blue jeans and take as many tourist-y selfies as you like!

2. Your home and possessions are temporary.

I have a beautiful two-story house here in Japan, filled with lovely furniture, books, and dozens of types of tea. It’s warm and it’s cozy and for now, it’s very much home. But I have no illusions about the fact that in a couple of years, I’m going to pack up and leave – and a lot of what I have here isn’t coming with me. It’s not worth bringing all the way back across the ocean. The most important things will come, of course, but the rest – I love it, and I enjoy it while I’m here, but I don’t get just too attached to my temporary household goods. There are better ones waiting for me when I get back.

Because, of course, all my best furniture is at home, with my parents or in storage. It was risky, expensive, and unnecessary to ship all the way to Japan only to ship back again in a couple of years. When I leave Japan, I’ll have to leave a good many things behind me – but I also know I have my most precious things sitting waiting for me when I get back to the US.

3. It’s easy to isolate – but then you can’t make a difference.

It’s honestly hard to remember sometimes that I live in Japan. Because of COVID, I don’t really go anywhere besides work and home. I work on a Navy base, surrounded by Americans, on a warship that is, in fact, American soil. On base we have grocery stores with imported American food, a movie theater that shows American movies, McDonald’s, Subway, a bowling alley… the list goes on. Some people spend their entire tour in Japan in “Americatown” and never really connect with Japan.

After all, it’s hard. It’s difficult to find two civilizations more distant than America and Japan, despite our close political ties in recent years. And when different cultures come in contact, they will inevitably clash sometimes. It’s hard to understand the people who surround you, and that barrier can create tension and conflict. It’s easier just to pull away, to stay inside my enclave with the people who think like me and leave it at that.

But that defeats the whole point of being here! We’re here to build our relationship with Japan, to reach out and learn from each other, and to work together for the good of all. We as human beings were not designed to self-isolate from the vast majority of the people around us. If you’re going to be surrounded by a people not your own, love and learn from that people. What else is living abroad for?

4. You have to remember you are not the default.

A few weeks ago, we had a training at work about security access levels. The instructor started to say, “remember, foreigners can’t have access to – oh, I guess we’re the foreigners. Well, Japanese nationals can’t have access to…”

It’s funny how quickly we can forget how different the people around us are, what different places and perspectives they come from. I haven’t made the metaphor in this post very explicit; I’m sure you can read the implications in yourself. But in closing, I’d note that as the church, if we really are going to think of ourselves as resident foreigners, we need to stop assuming that everyone can see things our way. Why should they? We aren’t the norm. And we will never be able to connect with people if we wait for them to look from our perspective in order to see the truth. We need to learn how to speak truth in the language of the people we are among.

*Picture is mine.