Archives for category: asian american

Because of my increasing introversion and shyness (and general mental sluggishness) I often find it difficult to make conversation with other people — strangers, in particular. According to this article, How To Be A Great Conversationalist, I’m on the right track because at least I’m not an interrogator or a braggart. Sometimes I worry about wasting someone else’s time with small talk. Other times I just don’t get the words out.

For example, here was a conversation I had awhile back at my daughter’s preschool. I was taking my daughter out of the car in the parking lot and we were just heading over to her classroom. Another parent was driving by, stopped and said out the window:

Person: Go Blue!
Me: ?
Person: I saw your Michigan plates the other day — we’re from Michigan too! (smiling)
Me: Oh. That’s nice! (grin)

In my mind, I was thinking, “Both my brother and sister are Wolverines! Hail to the Victors!” and I was all set to make the Michigan map on my right hand and ask where they were from. But, somehow, the words just floated away. I find this happening with greater frequency.

Should I worry, or should I just Wiki it?

While I know very little about the graphic novel world (Didn’t we used to call them comics? I kid, I kid… please direct all angry fanboy mail to my publicist), I was very excited to read about American Born Chinese.

In ABC, the first graphic novel to be nominated for a National Book Award, Gene Luen Yang tells the story of three different characters: a Chinese American boy, the Monkey King and “Chinkie” – not the Bay Area ska-punk sensation The Chinkees, but a character amalgamated from exaggerated Chinese and Asian stereotypes. It is truly disturbing to hear that some people have actually told Yang they think that the Chinkie character is “cute.”

NPR has put together a great audio slide show of selected panels from ABC, in which he talks about his background as an author and the social/historical setting of this book. Watching the slideshow of panels from ABC and hearing Yang’s narration transported me back to my days of growing up in a predominantly white school. In particular, his words about struggling with his shame over his parents’ culture struck a familiar chord with me. I’m not sure what it is, but graphic novels such as Persepolis or Maus are able to evoke emotions in a way that other media cannot.

While this book deals specifically with the Asian American experience, there is something universal in the themes of dealing with shame and discovering identity, as Yang expresses at the conclusion of his narration. You can find a longer interview with Gene Luen Yang on the Bryant Park Project here (click on the “listen now” link near the top of the page).

** Edit: Looks like NPR is on a roll here — Terry Gross interviewed Adrian Tomine on Fresh Air today about his graphic novel, Shortcomings, a story about race, identity and love. Check out the interview with Tomine here. A New York Times review from November 2007 says:

Unlike the more playful graphic novelists who influenced him, Daniel Clowes (“Ghost World,” “David Boring”) and the Hernandez brothers (“Love and Rockets”), Tomine isn’t given to flights of surrealism, rude jests or grotesque images. He is a mild observer, an invisible reporter, a scientist of the heart. His drawing style is plain and exact. The dialogue appearing inside his cartoon balloons is pitch-perfect and succinct. He’s daring in his restraint.

Our daughter, like many other four and a half year olds, has lots of questions. For example, why didn’t she have school yesterday, even though it was a Monday – and doesn’t she go to school on the day after church? We explained that it was because we were remembering Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and everything he had done for us. Her eyes lit up and she smiled, asking, “He was a king?”

We began to explain to her who Dr. King was and why he was so important, especially for us as Asian Americans. I don’t want to talk down to my daughter, as if she cannot understand anything simply because she is a child, or try to gloss over the problems our world faces. But, at the same time, systemic racism is a weighty and difficult discussion for anyone to have, at any age.

While we were eating Pho on Sunday night, CNN was showing a retrospective of Dr. King’s life and legacy. We didn’t realize this, though, until our daughter asked us what those people were doing with the hoses and the “puppies.” We tried our best to explain how people who were African American were mistreated and abused in our country, and can you believe that someone would try to hurt others with firehoses and attack dogs? Our daughter was horrified — she explained indignantly that hoses are supposed to be used to help people by putting out fires and that we shouldn’t use puppies to hurt others.

We told her how Dr. King believed that God created and loves everyone, and that we should treat everyone the way that God wants us to, with dignity and respect. We explained that even though Dr. King shared this message peacefully, without fighting or hurting people, he was still put in jail. At this point, it was almost too much for our daughter to bear. Extremely frustrated, she said, “No — those people should have been put in jail because they were hurting people and being mean!”

My wife explained that, today, our daughter can go to school and be friends with everyone because of what Dr. King had done.  While we hope to sit down with her one day and share, in the words of Dr. King, “…the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice” we were glad to have this small chance to remember Dr. King’s legacy together as a family.

I shared my recent near-grifting last Sunday during our weekly teachers’ meeting. We marveled together at our capacity as human beings to lie so brazenly at times and how we could discern those who are truly in need. It is altogether too easy, in the name of being wise about sharing our resources, to close the door completely to anyone who asks for help.

The sanctuary in which we gather to worship together every Sunday afternoon opens almost directly onto a major street in town. When the doors are open, I can see the sidewalk and street from the pulpit. This past Sunday, while we were reciting Scripture together during our worship gathering, I could see a tall stranger, obviously in need, appear in the doorway. The first to speak with him was one of our Sunday school teachers. Because of that morning’s conversation about grifting, she told us that she was very cautious, and a little bit skeptical, in listening to this man’s story. A couple of minutes into the conversation, I saw this teacher leave in order to speak with my wife, who is also one of the pastors here at church. My wife greeted this man and spent several minutes in conversation with him as well.

Although he was looking for help, he did not ask for money. Rather, he asked my wife if the church could help him find some diapers for his two young children (seated in a car, visible, about ten yards away). My wife found one of our youth group students and the three of them walked across the street to buy diapers for his kids. While they were there, my wife purchased a large box of diapers and some juice for his kids. When this man asked how he could repay her, my wife simply told him, that when he was back on his feet, to share what he had with someone else in need.

As my wife listened to this man’s story, she asked him how he ended up coming to our church to ask for help. He told her that he had been to several other places that morning, including other religious communities, and had been rejected at every stop. He said he drove by our church and saw that our doors were open and thought, maybe, someone could help.

One of the things I admire most about my wife is her pure heart to love, serve and help those in need. To me, this story is a snapshot of what grace looks like. Sure, there’s always the chance that this man was running some strange hustle (I don’t know, re-selling these diapers on ebay or something) but grace always runs the risk of being misunderstood, abused or exploited.

Chuck Swindoll quotes Maryn Lloyd-Jones in The Grace Awakening:

If it is true that where sin abounded grace has much more abounded, well then, “shall we continue in sin, that grace may abound yet further?” First of all let me make a comment, to me a very important and vital comment. The true preaching of the gospel of salvation by grace alone always leads to the possibility of this charge being brought against it… There is this kind of dangerous element about the true presentation of the doctrine of salvation.

While the Lloyd-Jones quote above is referring specifically to God’s salvific grace extended to us through Christ, there is a similar principle at work in how we see and treat those around us.

I am not advocating recklessness in how we share with others. Generally, we do not give money to people on the street who might ask, preferring instead to buy food if they are hungry or, in this instance, some diapers for a family in need. However, there is always something risky about extending grace, unconditional love. In a world in which outreach feels like a timeshare sales pitch (Sure, it’s free… but first you have to sit through our 90 minute presentation) and “free” carwash fundraisers actually cost a five dollar minimum donation, grace is strange and unfamiliar.

Grace is stumbling across an open door. The grace Jesus extended to others, even those He knew full well would reject, swindle or otherwise disrespect Him, is hard to comprehend (some might even say amazing). Part of our dream for our community is that, when faced with the choice, we will risk grace. If our life is our mission and each one of us is part of the priesthood of all believers, then grace must be at the heart of it all.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been fighting off a nasty cold for a couple of weeks (an airplane is just a petri dish with wings) or because we are extremely busy with church (what else is new?), but it just hasn’t been looking a lot like Christmas for me these days. It’s not any kind of cynical holiday-burnout; I’m just kind of beat.

I find myself becoming more & more liturgical — both in how I envision our community worshiping together and in my personal sense of what it means to seek after God. Not liturgy for its own sake, but as a way of creating a rhythm in seeking after God. The word liturgy itself can be translated as, “The work of the people.” Most days, spiritual awakening and passionate revival aren’t falling from the sky in the form of high-density protein bars (nope, not even this kind). For me, the experience of God happens in the active search, the longing, the seeking. I need to lean in, to calm down, to pay attention to God.

Advent (which began this past Sunday) is a season of watching and waiting, expectation and anticipation. I love that, for the Church, our calendar is not set by the madness of Black Friday. No, our year begins as we prepare the way of our Lord, as Christine Sine explains in this wonderful post about Advent. The Advent season reminds me that business is not as usual and that I am being called into a different rhythm.

I recently joined the Junky Car Club. From their site: “Junky Car Club members are learning to live with less so we can give more. We’re a bunch of happy drivers who are politely rebelling against consumerism by driving junky cars. We encourage our members to use their dough to support social justice causes instead of making fat car payments. We believe in environmental stewardship and hanging onto things a little longer. Junky Car Club members sponsor kids living in poverty through Compassion International.”

I love that phrase, learning to live with less so we can give more. It reminds me of a great GK Chesterton quote I read in Al Hsu’s The Suburban Christian:

There are two ways to get enough. One is to continue to accumulate more and more. The other is to desire less.

It’s easy to rant about Jesus being the “reason for the season” or to denounce the commercialization of Christmas. Learning to desire less stuff — that’s where life happens. The Junky Car Club is a fun way of promoting the transformation of hearts & minds and making a difference in the world. And, as an Asian American, I love the idea of subverting our car-obsessed culture. Seriously, how many Asian American youth pastors have had students hold down a part time job just to support their body-kit habit on their perpetual work-in-progress Honda Civic? Imagine what would happen if we, collectively, decided to ditch The Fast and the Furious for simple, authentic love, mercy and justice.

In a small way, joining the Junky Car Club has become part of my personal liturgy during this Advent season. Instead of a self-indulgent holiday filled with more and newer, just a little bit of self-control (because, really, simply owning a car at all — no matter how beat-down or busted — makes us rich in a global perspective) can point me towards the heart of Christ during Advent. Jesus came to serve, not to be served; and He calls us to the same. If I can live with just a little bit less, there will be that much more to give.

Christ has come; Christ is coming! Prepare the way of the Lord!