Bamboo and Bonsai: A Life Calling Shaped by Japanese Culture

By Philip Kinley

Bamboo and Bonsai is the story of a Kansas boy who spent his entire career as a missionary in Japan. His service spanned forty-three years as a missionary of the Church of God. He was the founder and director of the Seminary House program. It was designed to prepare seminarians to become pastors in the Church of God. It offered specialized training in the theology and history of the Church of God. He directed this program for twenty-two years. He was also the principal of Tamagawa Seigakuin a girls junior-senior school in Tokyo. He led a staff of fifty Japanese nationals and four American teachers and over one thousand students in preparing young women from a Christian perspective to develop their God-given talents for life and service in Japanese society. While serving in the field of education, he also pastored churches in Tokyo assisted by unordained ministers. His duties were primarily preaching and conducting official meetings of the church. Later, assisted by his wife, Phyllis, they pioneered a new church congregation in Hagiyama, a suburb of Tokyo. It was a challenging and gratifying endeavor to introduce the people of the community to the gospel, lead them to become Christians, and nurture them as they matured in their faith.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098022563

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Bamboo and Bonsai

A Life Calling Shaped by Japanese Culture

Philip Kinley

Copyright © 2020 by Philip Kinley

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

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Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Early Memories

My Parents

The Kinleys

Medora Grade School

Sissy

From Tragedy to Faith

Family Milestones

The Move to Hutchinson

Burrton

Back to Hutchinson

Hutchinson Senior High School

My Home Church

Summer Jobs

Anderson College

My Military Experience

The Love of My Life

Summer Pastorate

Our Wedding

Bluffton

Preparation for Missionary Service

Early Experience in Japan

Tachikawa Church

Fukaya and Menuma

Mary Naraha

Living Standards in the 1950s

Plans for a Seminary Program

Our Children

Tamagawa Seigakuin

Pastoring Tachikawa Church

Congregations

Furlough

Term II: 1961–1966

Furlough 1966–1967

Our Third Term of Service: 1967–1972

Occasional Diary and Notes

Furlough 1972–1973

Our Fourth Term of Service: 1973–1977

Notes from Staff Meetings

Tama Sei Related

Church Related

1980s Decade

Tama Sei Building Program and Other Events

A Crisis

Upgrading My Qualifications

1990s Decade

Beginning Hagiyama Church

Preaching and Pastoring

My Colleagues at Tama Sei

Memorable Students and Episodes

Faux Pas and Otherwise

Preparing for Retirement

Evaluation of TachIkawa and Tamagawa Pastorates

Evaluation of Tamagawa Seigakuin

Seminary House Program

Hagiyama Church Evaluation

General Observations

Overseas Trips

My Philosophy for Doing Mission in Japan

What My Calling Means to Me

From a Missionary to a Japanese Pastoral Change

The Missionary and Culture

Observations on Relationships

Theological Issues

Life in Retirement

For Phyllis beloved wife and companion in missionary service.

Introduction

How does one born and raised among the wheat fields of Kansas find himself living most of his lifetime in a faraway country doing missionary service? There may be a few clues that lend credence to his calling. The first is related to the death of my sister and my family’s conversion to the Christian faith. Second, I had an interest in missions from my early teen years. Third, my faith led me to Anderson College, which was preparation leading to my call to Japan.

The inclusion of stories from my early life is an attempt to draw a picture of who I am and relate some events that shaped my life. Some stories may not seem to relate directly to my calling, but they contribute to showing personality traits that formed me. In many ways, I had a normal childhood with its successes and failures. I want to credit the influence of my home and the inspiration and encouragement I received from my home church, but in the end, I am responsible for decisions that led to my commitment to a life of service in Japan. My main purpose in writing this memoir is to record stories that I remember as having significance in shaping who I am. My story is not intended to be an autobiography; it is a narrative gleaned from personal experiences.

Early Memories

The two-year-old slowly slid off the seat beside his mother and started down the aisle of the train. Soon he looked up and saw a tall man standing in front of him. Frightened, he quickly ran back to the safety of his mother and baby brother. I was that two-year-old. This is probably the first snapshot memory of my early childhood. I am not sure why I remember this incident; perhaps because it was my first train ride, or I was frightened by the conductor. Stored in my memory are both good and bad experiences. February 1, 1932, my brother Keith was born. Many happy days were spent playing with him as well as one frightening experience.

We lived on a small farm near Medora, Kansas. Our house lacked modern conveniences, one semi-modern appliance was a kerosene cooking range. Kerosene was stored in the garage. My brother Keith and I often played in the garage. By the time I was three, I knew that kerosene came out of the drum stored in the corner of the garage, and I had learned how to open the spigot on the drum. One morning, I found an empty tin can, put some kerosene in it, and handed it to my eighteen-month-old brother and said, Here, drink this. He promptly obeyed. I immediately sensed I had done something wrong. I ran into the house and reported to mother what I had done. For the next several minutes, she tried frantically to get Keith to expel the kerosene. Not being successful, she took Keith in her arms began running to the local general store about a half-mile distance with me running behind. She managed to find someone to drive her to the hospital in Hutchinson, which was ten miles away. Unfortunately, Keith contracted pneumonia and was very sick for several days, but finally he recovered. Why I gave him kerosene, I cannot know, but I feel shame each time I recall the incident.

During the 1930s, we experienced the Great Depression. As a child, I was not aware of its economic impact on my family, except I knew we were poor, the same as everyone else in our community. I remember the dust storms. Some days the air was a dull yellow from blowing sand. At night, Mother would shake the bed sheets to rid the sand.

Keith and I had few toys, so we invented our games. One Christmas, we received a wagon. It became a vehicle for many uses. We pretended it took us on long trips. Other times, it hauled wheat from the harvest field to the grain elevator. Other times, we enjoyed pulling each other up and down the driveway. When we were in elementary school, we received a softball and bat. Our favorite times were when Dad played catch with us. Since he was often at work, Keith and I invented our own ball game. The fence surrounding the animal corral made a perfect playing field and the barn served as a backstop. While one pitched, the other batted. When the ball was hit, one had to run to a designated fence post and back to home plate before the other could field the ball and tag the runner out. We faced an additional challenge, navigating around the cow pods that dotted the corral.

My Parents

The courtship and marriage of my parents sounds like a chapter from a romance novel. My father was a field hand on a wheat harvesting crew on a farm near Turin, Kansas. Mother was hired to help with the cooking for the crew. She caught the eye of the young harvester, and they began spending some time together. Apparently the mistress of the house disapproved of dating among the employees. She forbid my parents to be together. Since they were determined to see each other, one night Mother crawled out of her bedroom window to be with Dad. Unfortunately, the escapade was discovered, and Mother was fired from her job. This did not deter my parents. After a three-week whirlwind courtship, Elmer Kinley and Clair Cope were married on July 25, 1929.

They set up housekeeping on the Wittorf farm near Medora, Kansas. Medora was Dad’s boyhood home. His maternal grandfather had homesteaded some seventy years before on land north of Medora. My arrival came on July 3, 1930. About the time of my birth, my parents moved into a house on a small farm owned by Dad. Apparently the house was occupied at the time of their marriage. When it became vacant, they were able to move into it.

We lived on this farm until I was eleven years old. The house had four small rooms—kitchen, dining room, living room, and bedroom. It was located very close to a Kansas State Highway. The yard was enclosed with a fence and gate wide enough for a vehicle. Although I do not remember the incident, I was told by my mother that when I was old enough to walk, Dad decided I needed to learn to fear the highway. He opened the gate and watched me play in the yard. Each time I went to the gate, Dad switched my legs. Whether I behaved like a rat in a maze or Pavlov’s dog, or just common sense, by the end of the day, I had learned the gate was a no-no. Thereafter, whether the gate was open or closed, I did not go near it.

The Kinleys

In 2003, Phyllis and I visited the British Isles, which included a trip to the Isle of Man. My family roots are in the Isle of Man, and I had the address of Margaret Kinley, a distant relative. She took Phyllis and me to the family parish church and cemetery in Rushen parish. I discovered that one complete section contains only Kinley burial plots. She also introduced us to two other cousins. One was Malcolm Kinley. He graciously spent one whole day guiding us around the island. We were invited to the annual Manx banquet. It is open to all who claim ancestors from Isle of Man. Those persons are referred to as Manx.

How did my ancestors get from the Isle of Man to Kansas? A young man named William Kinley was impressed into the British Navy in the war of 1812. Apparently, he did not like being a seaman. He jumped ship when it anchored in Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, 1816. One story is the ship he sailed on was the one that carried Napoleon to exile. In order to stay hidden from British authorities, William changed his name to Hamilton for a period of several years. When it was safe, he resumed the Kinley name, and he urged his siblings to join him. The family lived on Prince Edward Island, and later, some moved to Nova Scotia and other parts of Canada. William and his son, Ambrose, and family moved to the United States in 1835. They first lived in Ohio and then Illinois, where William died and my grandfather, Othel, was born. Ambrose and family then moved to Kansas in 1882. They were lifelong farmers.

In 2002, Phyllis and I travelled to eastern Canada. Our goal was to discover my Canadian roots. On Prince Edward Island, we met Allison Ellis and his family. His grandmother was a Kinley. He had a photograph of her hanging on the wall in his living room. He said there are no longer persons with the Kinley name living on Prince Edward. He contacted James Kinley and arranged for us to meet him and his wife. They were living in Lunenburg, Nova Scotia. We learned from him that most of his branch of the family remains in Canada.

Medora Grade School

Being big for one’s age has advantages and disadvantages. Since I was considerably taller than others my age, the elementary class teacher urged Mother to enter me in the first grade the year I became five. However, during the summer, that teacher moved to another school, so Mother approached the new teacher, Miss McClung about my entering school. She gave permission, and I proudly entered on the first day of school. Word quickly spread, and each day of that first week, an additional five-year-old entered school. By the end of the week, Miss McClung decided if all the five-year-olds continued, she would not have any first grade the following year. She then sent a letter to our parents, asking us to wait one year. Alas! I flunked first grade and had to start over again. In retrospect, I am grateful I waited