Roots: A Communal Journal

Photo by  Trevor Brown  on  Unsplash I am jet-lagged, but content. After an almost-five hour flight involving too much ginger ale and not enough water, I’m back where I grew up, in the Pacific Northwest, surrounded by trees and cars and mountains. There is something spiritually healthy about sleep-deprivation, I think. Biologically, our inhibitions are lowered and it’s harder for us to make thoughtful, conscious decisions — similar to the effects of drinking alcohol. In fact, one study showed that after 17 to 19 hours without sleep, participants’ [response speeds and accuracy] performance was equivalent or worse than that of a blood alcohol concentration (BAC) level of 0.05 percent. 1 Sleep deprivation is a natural occurrence that strips away our competence and our ability to control our emotions (among many other things). It reminds me that I can only do so much, that my body is a physical, spiritual thing with many needs and so few resources to meet them. It re...

A couple weeks ago, I had the privilege of spending half a day on a Native American reservation in North Dakota - the land of the Lakota people. It was an experience that made me critically examine my own biases and recognize my own ignorance of the breadth and depth of our country’s painful history with race and relocation. It challenged how I perceived my relationship with the land I live on and how I connect with the culture and history of my people. The land was so sacred to its people - not in the form of spiritual worship, but one rooted in a deep sense of respect for the land and a recognition that their homeland was not one to be taken for granted. It was a result of centuries of oppression through relocation and disenfranchisement, but also one borne out of an unwavering commitment to their children; a steadfast belief that elders have a responsibility to cultivate a home for their children, and to protect its resources, both physical and cultural, for generations to come. O...

As roots grow over centuries of nurture and support, so do our identities – as peoples and cultures evolve and shape each other. Each of our identities become nuanced, with every experience and story unique from another. Yet, many of those stories are beautifully interconnected as if they formed an intricate tapestry. Those are the stories I’m hoping this communal journal will explore. The first is mine – a story shared by many Chinese Americans, and a story that holds both pain and privilege in intractable tension. This story, oftentimes, is one of privilege. It’s one that, whether we’ve chosen it or not, many of us enjoy. It’s where we can often choose to be accepted as if we were white. It’s where we’re thought of as smart and hard-working, earning the moniker of the “non-threating,” or “model minority,” or the “good” immigrant. It’s where many of us can walk into a conference room and be thought of as a trusted partner, not as the person bringing them coffee. It’s a privilege...

Today was like many other Sundays, except I woke up later than usual and was late for church. When I realized this, I immediately felt a sinking feeling in my gut. By the time I would get to church, I knew I would miss the worship set — my favorite part of Sunday service. I knew I might also miss our church’s prayer time, where we have the opportunity to publicly confess, pray, and praise together.  I lay in bed for awhile, considering whether to sneak in late and slide into a back pew or stay home, make eggs, and listen to a sermon online. Then I realized we would be continuing in our series on Ephesians 5, and the sinking feeling returned. I stayed up too late last night, and didn’t have the energy to parse through a passage that has sparked so much personal and communal controversy in my life. But I got up anyway, because I missed my people. I’m sure I will write another post discussing Ephesians 5, but for now, I celebrate my people. My church people are crazy....