After serving in a church in Kobe for 23 years, I was sent here in 2020. This building was originally a gardening shop, which we bought second-hand and renovated. It was completed in April 2022. We are now planning to further renovate the first floor of this building to create a facility for people with intellectual disabilities. The architectural design has just been completed, and construction is about to begin soon. I have named this plan “The Koinonia Project.”
Today I would like to share my testimony about how this Koinonia Project came into being.
I was born in Kobe as the second son of an elder in a Reformed church. When I was a student, I studied Western painting at an art university in Kyoto. The church I attended there held worship services at 3:00 p.m., so in the morning I would ride a minibike with a church friend to attend worship at a church in Ōtsu, Shiga Prefecture. It was at that Ōtsu church that I was greatly blessed by Rev. de Wet.
After the service, he would often invite me to lunch at his home, and after the meal I played with Dries, Carina, and Corlia. I still remember how delicious Annelie-san’s cooking was, and how Dr. de Wet quietly helped wash and put away the dishes afterward.
From Rev. de Wet, I received not only the blessing of God’s Word, but also many precious lessons through the example of a family overflowing with Christ-centered love. So, when he returned to South Africa, I felt very sad. But together with some friends from church, I listened to recordings of his sermons, transcribed them, and compiled a sermon collection titled “Who is Jesus?” This remains a very special memory from my student years. I am deeply thankful that Rev. de Wet has never forgotten Japan, that he returned, and that he continues to serve faithfully in Shikoku even now.
After graduating from university, I became an art teacher at a junior high school in Kobe. However, as I became busier, I started to skip worship services, my faith weakened, and I lost my desire to follow God. I began to go out drinking with friends after work every night. Shamefully, one day I drank too much, lost consciousness, fell into a ditch, and suffered a serious injury to my jaw. When I came to, I found myself covered in blood, lying in my room.
Looking at my dirty, disfigured face in the mirror, I suddenly realized clearly: “I am a sinner.” Until then, deep down, I had thought, “I’m a fairly good person.” But at that moment, I sincerely prayed, “Lord Jesus, I am sorry.” Then the living Jesus spoke gently to my heart: “That is why I was crucified for you.” Tears overflowed, and I made a firm decision in my heart: “From now on, I will live my life following Jesus.”
Soon after, I met Megumi, and we got married. The year after our first daughter was born—January 1995—we were struck by the Great Hanshin-Awaji Earthquake. That same April, I made the firm decision to devote my life to God’s service, resigned from my teaching position, and entered Kobe Reformed Theological Seminary. During my seminary years, our son Sasagu was born. He was diagnosed with severe autism and an intellectual disability. When I first learned of his condition, I was deeply shocked—especially since he had a profound speech impairment and still cannot speak at all. I thought, “If he cannot understand words, how can he ever know about Jesus?” But gradually, I came to realize that this was not the right way to think. I learned to accept his disability and even to embrace it as part of God’s meaningful plan.
There are many experiences that led me to this understanding, but I will share two especially memorable ones—both connected to Christians from another Asian country (I cannot explicitly mention for safety reasons).
From the beginning of our marriage, my wife and I were involved in delivering Bibles to Christians in some underground churches. When our son was five, we took him with us on one of these trips. At the time, he could not sit still, but during fellowship with local Christians, he suddenly sat quietly for about two hours, smiling as if he was enjoying the atmosphere. Seeing that, I realized: “This child also has a spiritual antenna that can sense such things.” Even if he could not understand words, I believed that the Holy Spirit could still touch his heart and give him faith in Jesus.
Another unforgettable experience was visiting Christian orphanages (in the same country) that care for children abandoned because of disabilities. The first orphanage we visited had two locations—one at the foot of a tall mountain and one near the summit, where ethnic minority communities still live. Some of these communities had been converted to Christianity through Hudson Taylor’s missionary work in the 19th century and continue to keep their faith to this day.
The children who could not be accommodated at the orphanage were raised by these mountain Christians. These minority peoples had originally lived on the plains but were driven into the mountains by more powerful groups. Seeing these people—once oppressed—and abandoned children living together and advancing the gospel moved me deeply. I was reminded of the truth of the Scripture: “My power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)
From this, I became convinced that walking together with those who are weak and vulnerable—like my own son—within the fellowship of the church is not merely an act of compassion but an essential and holy form of diakonia, indispensable for the advancement of God’s Kingdom. When I realized this, I felt as though I had discovered a treasure hidden in a field—a pearl of great value. The Koinonia Project was born out of this conviction.
Although we are still preparing the building and have not yet begun concrete activities, we plan to start with a small day-service ministry for people with intellectual disabilities. Our goal is to build a community of mutual support centered on the church—where people with disabilities, their families, staff, and volunteers live and serve together based on the values and order of God’s Kingdom, not those of this world. We hope that, through such a community, we can bear a beautiful witness to our local society.
Our vision is that even after their parents have passed away, children with intellectual disabilities will remain connected to the church, united with Jesus, and live out their lives in His grace. This is the vision God has given us, and we would be truly grateful for your prayers.
