Roots: A Communal Journal

  Our nation is on fire, quite literally, this week. We and the people we care about are feeling fear, anxiety, a relentless uncertainty about what is to come next. Every scary news story this week has been beyond my imaginations of what could happen to people. And in that fear - the fear of the now, the fear of the unknown, the fear for our future - I am reminded that far too often I have trusted institutions to protect us, and when those institutions fail, I am left with a terrifying hopelessness. And so I write this to remind myself that in these times, especially, I must reflect on the promises of a faithful God for hope. I remind myself that my God is a God of justice. He rejected cultural norms of a perverted justice to uplift a justice that was not prejudicial, did not favor those in power, was compassionate and yet consistent in conviction. The Lord says to Zechariah: "do not oppress the widow, the fatherless, the sojourner, the poor, and let none of you devise evil again...

Four years ago, I wrote Home: Part I - a reflection on Jeremiah 29 and the definition of home. Four years later, after a pandemic, a nationwide dialogue on systemic racism, and the destruction of democratic norms all over the world, it's been interesting to re-read and reflect on what home meant in 2019, and what home means now. For more than a year starting in March 2020, I felt in some ways more connected to my homeland, the place I was born and raised, and the place of my people, more than ever. As with most people in 2020, regular Zoom calls with friends from the many phases of my life became the norm. The pandemic was an excuse to reconnect virtually with friends in Asia, London, the Bay Area, New York, Germany and more. Those Zoom calls made me feel more connected than ever to my people: we reminisced about our high school shenanigans, grieved over the state of our home, mourned the increase in anti-Asian hate... I was more determined to claim my homeland as my home; I was p...

This year, our church has made "evangelism" its theme and focus. I am grateful for how our church's leadership has tried to present a robust view of what "evangelism" really means, and how it can be better understood and practiced. That has stoked some contemplation on my part, and through that, I have come to realize that I have a lot of reexamining and unlearning to do.  For most of my life in the church, I have listened to various Christian leaders, pastors, and theologians proclaim that the church’s "main mission" is evangelism. Innumerous outreach initiatives have been launched based on this assumed, obvious fact. Many people like me, raised in evangelical churches and settings, can tell their own evangelism stories. Sometimes, those stories are about highly-energizing, deeply wholesome, and humanizing interactions. Others times, they are marked by guilt-motivated, humiliating, even aggressive tactics towards complete strangers, friends, and relat...

My church has been studying Hebrews since last year. Recently, our pastor taught on Hebrews 12, where the author reminds his readers that God disciplines those whom he loves. That led to an extended and thoughtful sermon that distinguished three terms--punishment, discipline, and consequences--that parents (and people generally) tend to use interchangeably. I think it is fair to say that our pastor characterized "punishment" as problematic. He quoted from a  blog by Mark Bellanger which said the following: "Punishment is condemning. Discipline is correcting. Consequences are causational...Punishment is a punitive action done to make the offender repay the debt they have incurred. It is done for the benefit of the offended rather than for the offender." (there are a couple of other reflections and quotes in the article that more explicitly critique "punishment") Our pastor went on to say that punishment isn't about seeing reconciliation between the par...

  I'm sitting at the exact same airport, two and a half years after I started writing Home: Part I - and still reflecting on the same questions and struggling with the same tensions. But this time, rather than thinking about home defined by the place, I've been thinking home defined by the people that occupy it. If you move away from "home," what is your responsibility to the people that remain? Or, what happens when the people that you most associate with "home" are no longer there? If they move elsewhere, is that new place "home?" Is it possible for that place to become "home?"  These seem to be the quintessential questions for immigrant families; yet it is one that no one seems to have an answer for. It defines how we experience the places in which we live, the places from which we came, and the relationships we have with the people - both in our places of origin and destination(s). And it's not just a question for immigrants - whe...

"Not by might, nor by power, but by my...actually, scratch that. Sometimes, you just have to take power and get stuff done," says the Lord. "I, Paul, determined to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified...actually, that would never work. Forget that I ever said that." "If anyone would follow me, they must deny themselves, take up their cross and...you know what? What would that even accomplish? I'm sorry. So impractical." Jesus, knowing that they intended to come and make him king by force, was like, "Yes! Finally. I get to call the shots and get stuff done!" Jesus said to Peter, "Put your sword back in its...well, you know what? Go ahead use that thing to get stuff done!" Then Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me." Peter took him aside and rebuked him. And Jesus repented, saying, "You are right Peter, what was I thinking? W...