Archives for category: faith

Today, our car battery died. More specifically, it died on three separate occasions — all within the course of an hour. The first time it went down for the count was, fortunately (or so I thought), at a gas station. We had just filled up our tank and were preparing to leave when the car wouldn’t start. It was the middle of the afternoon and there were plenty of people around so, even though we didn’t have jumper cables, I thought we’d be recharged and ready to leave in no time. Apparently, I was wrong.

First, I approached the employees and asked if they had jumper cables. They informed me that they did not, which seemed strange to me, but I figured there were plenty of other people there so it wouldn’t be a problem. After being told by three or four people that, sorry, they didn’t have cables I ran across the way to the drug store to pick up a set of cables. Now that we have our own cables, I thought, things would be much easier. Wrong again.

I ran back and started asking people for help: Sorry to bother you, but we’re stranded here at the gas station. Our car is right over there and I have these cables in my hand. Could you give us a jump? About four or five people said no (and a couple of others got into their cars and left as quickly as they could when they saw me walking around the gas station) when I approached a man in a Mercedes. When I asked for help, instead of replying with a simple “no” he scoffed and said, “Not with this car.” It’s not just that the effort of popping the hood and turning the key to start the engine is just too much to ask; it’s the very thought of contaminating his luxury import with my unworthy family sedan. I don’t even have my Junky Car Club sticker on my car — I guess he just has extrasensory perception about these kinds of things.

Eventually, one of the employees came out and gave me a jump.  We drove off, dumbfounded.  I can be pretty cynical, but that man’s hardcore condescension took me off guard.  However, my faith in our fellow human beings was restored by the next person who helped us.  I’ve had car batteries die before and, usually, after getting jumped and being driven for awhile things work out alright.  However, after running a few errands (and leaving the car running, with someone inside, of course) the car decided to call it a day once again in a parking lot while it was still running.  That, I’ve never experienced.

Dreading a repeat of the gas station incident, I went straight to the employees.  I was pleasantly surprised when one employee, Elizabeth, offered to help right away.  Because of the way the parking spaces were configured, our jumper cables would not reach her car.  I began pushing the car out and Elizabeth started helping me push as well.  She then explained to another customer who was angry that the car was blocking her way that our car battery had died and we needed a jump, and could she pull out of the parking in lot in the other direction?  Once the cars were properly positioned, jumping it was a breeze.  We thanked Elizabeth sincerely (I’m definitely writing a letter to her manager to let them know how helpful she was to us) and were on our way.

What a mess we all are.  Even when we have good intentions, sometimes just having a bad day throws everything out the window.  I think, in some providential way, God knew that I needed to both the beauty and depravity residing in all of us, and to remind me to help others in need — even if it inconveniences me a bit.

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!

As an aside from my recent Radiohead post, I’ve been thinking about how easy it is to sow seeds of discontent in our hearts. Amidst the hype and reviews of In Rainbows stirred a mild controversy — audiophiles were up in arms because Radiohead had the audacity to release their album in MP3s encoded at 160kbps. Never mind that most people paid nothing for their download of In Rainbows: How dare Thom Yorke and company defile our sensitive ears with inferior aural tones!

After looking into it a bit, most people seemed to be saying that unless one is a serious audiophile and/or has a high-end home stereo, there is not much of a difference between importing songs at 160 or 192kbps (or even 256kbps). I tested out this theory by importing the same song at different bitrates and, sure enough, I wasn’t really able to detect any significant differences.

But that little seed of discontent — everyone knows that 160kbps is the moral equivalent of stealing from grandmas — has already been sown in my heart. You see, I had been importing my songs at 160 in blissful ignorance but, suddenly, this was no longer an acceptable ethical option. For awhile, I sat there staring at my iTunes library, angry at these MP3s smirking back at me with their inferior sarcasm. Granted, my music library is not as vast as some claim (does a person even have time to listen to 50,000 song?) but it would take forever and a half to re-rip all of my CDs. But if I don’t, then I’m a bad man.

Perhaps this little discontented episode merely reveals my own strange, neurotic tendencies — but sometimes it doesn’t take much for us to begin grumbling, complaining, comparing and generally grousing about. The grass is always greener… isn’t it?

* * * * *

Even further aside, can anyone explain to me the runaway popularity of “I Can Has Cheezburger“? A couple months back, Wired was wondering the same thing. Well, perhaps it is not mine to question but just to enjoy the photos of cats mowing the lawn with invisible mowers and kittens infected with disco fever.

The term “Black Friday” always reminds me of the Depeche Mode album, Black Celebration (but with less new wave flair) or the Black Plague. This has become an annual, morbid, spectacle as we watch shoppers stampede, fight and generally clog up the works at our favorite big box retailers to the tune of $475 billion this year.

As followers of Christ immersed in this culture of consumption, what are we to do? Yes, yes, “Jesus is the reason for the season” and we must certainly “Put ‘Christ’ back into Christmas” but fighting the temptation to go bust down some doors to get that half-priced plasma television is an uphill battle all the way. These days, every other television ad spends considerable effort making it seem like a perfectly reasonable thing to get into line at 3am to shop or that upgrading to that 52″ plasma screen will infuse your life with more meaning.

Eugene Cho and David Park have raised some really provocative thoughts recently about consumption and what it means to follow Christ. Maybe it’s the conspiracy-theorist in me, but I love the idea of subverting all of the marketing of these megacorporations and the greed in our hearts by turning some of this Christmas shopping season madness on its head.

Eugene writes about Buy Nothing Day and some of the reservations he has about this movement. In general, I think movements like Buy Nothing Day or that gross Feed The Pig commercial (where a man is about to buy a king-sized TV that he cannot afford until his grotesque half-man/half-pig companion smacks his hand) are good at raising awareness about our consumer habits. Greed, overconsumption, debt, keeping up with the neighbors — this is the air we breathe, and it can be extremely difficult to see life from another perspective.

However, it is far too easy to feel a sense of superior righteousness or to participate in things like BND as a one-time only, special engagement. As followers of Christ, we are called to a lifestyle of good stewardship and of genuine concern for others. To paraphrase Bonhoeffer, when Christ calls us to follow Him, He bids us to come and die — and the struggle to deny our impulse for the latest and greatest gadgets and stuff does require a certain kind of death.

The Advent Conspiracy invites us to restore “the scandal of Christmas by worshiping Jesus through compassion, not consumption.” [h/t: David Park]. Like any movement, I suppose the AC runs the risk of becoming faddish or trendy — but I think it is worth that risk. I love that this movement isn’t about not giving gifts or being cheap (“Um, I gave you two rolls of toilet paper out of the multi-pack because I wanted to be, like, a good steward. Right.”) but, rather, about giving better gifts — our time, our creativity, our hearts. Read through AC’s list of relational gift ideas and see if you don’t come across something that would really touch the heart of someone you love this Christmas.

May God change our hearts so that we enjoy giving and may He open our eyes to see the opportunities we have every day to love and serve.  Prepare the way of the Lord!

Does My Lunch Tell My Story?

Recently, I’ve spent more time than usual considering Asian American identity. The great comments on my recent post about the upcoming San Diego Asian American leadership gathering and its ethos and my daughter’s time in her predominantly white preschool have propelled much of this thinking.

Kathy, over at More Than Serving Tea, shares a great family story about her kids bringing Rice & Seaweed in the Thermos to school for lunch and the stress & worry that created for her. My daughter usually eats lunch at home, but she recently began to attend a “lunch bunch” program at her church. It crushed me to hear her say that she didn’t want to bring chicken and rice to school because she didn’t want the other kids to think she wasn’t “English.” It reminded me of my utter dismay at having my Caucasian friends discover the crazy varieties of kimchi my mom had bottled up around the house.

In Between Two Worlds

We have always done our best to help our daughter understand that she is Asian and American, and that is exactly how God created her to be. We have tried to foster in her heart a confidence in God and in her God-given identity. Since she’s growing up as an American girl, we work hard to show her the benefits of being Asian as well — that it is part of what makes her unique and fun, and that she doesn’t have to blend in with the crowd. Both my wife and I struggled with our sense of belonging and worth during our formative years and we want our daughter to enjoy being herself. We want to walk beside her, lead her, and listen to what’s happening in her heart — in ways that our parents, though they wanted to, could not have.

Two Kinds of Hatred

From what I’ve seen and experienced, the Asian American struggle with identity often breaks down into two kinds of hatred: hatred of Asian culture, and hatred of self. While these two struggles certainly interact and feed into one another, I believe we can approach them in slightly different ways.

Elderj wrote a great piece about Self Hatred & the Gospel in which he identifies the self-hatred that lies just beneath the surface of the critiques Korean Americans have against their churches and their culture. Although I always enforced the “take off your shoes before entering my house” rule among my non-Asian friends growing up (oh, the controversy!), I often struggled with the mysterious rules & regulations of my Asian heritage. So what if I was the oldest son of the oldest son in his family? Why did my parents think my friends were rude for not identifying themselves on the phone before asking for me? Even for my AA friends who grew up with more detailed explanations of their Asian heritage and among more Asian people, there was still a profound disconnect — even disdain — for many of their Asian customs & practices.

On a deeper level, I knew many AA friends who simply hated who they were. In what would have been humorous in another context, I learned the word “loathe” in fifth grade when an older friend explained how he “loathed” being Korean — I was confused, because it sounded like he “loved” being Korean, when I knew full well that he felt quite the opposite. He explained to me that it was more than hatred, but that he was disgusted with his Korean-ness. Whether it is the overt acts of racism against them or the undercurrent of being a permanent outsider, many Asian Americans turn their hurt, sorrow and frustration against themselves.

The Image of God

Dealing with the hatred of Asian culture is a relatively straightforward proposition. It might be as simple as pointing out the many positive aspects of our cultures — the awesome eats, greater sense of connectedness, commitment to family, sweet Samsung flat screen TVs (you know, the really important stuff). This struggle might create the opportunity to talk about what it means to be unique, to see how different cultures shape and inform who we are (for better and for worse) — hopefully, to live in the best of both worlds.

The hatred of self is a much deeper issue. Ultimately, I believe this is a profoundly theological question — not just one of sin and death and salvation, but of redemption. Our churches do a pretty good job of driving home the point that we are wretched sinners, desperately in need of mercy — worms incapable of any good thing. I’m being hyperbolic, but not by much. Just last week, a recent college grad at our church shared about how his “discipleship” program in college consisted mostly of his “discipler” condemning and guilt-tripping him. It’s not too hard to convince people who already hate themselves that they are awful, disgusting sinners.

Please hear me: we are all guilty. Sin has left the world, and our souls, utterly broken. But Jesus tells a story of rescue and redemption. Perhaps in our desperation for orthodoxy, we neglect to tell the story of the imago dei — that we are all made in the image of God. That this imago dei story was first and that Christ’s victory over sin and death creates the possibility of restoration. Perhaps a more robust theology will allow us to see that God purposefully and joyfully created us as Asian Americans. Instead of holding up “whiteness” as the standard and ultimate goal, perhaps theology can actually be useful to help us break free from this captivity.

I love that, when Jesus finally greets us on that day, He doesn’t demand that we give up our heritage. In fact, the scenes of worship and adoration in Revelation become even more glorious when we begin to hear the distinct languages and see the unique faces of all of those gathered around the Lamb.