As an Asian American minister of the Gospel, we have an unparalleled opportunity to address the particular context of the gunman’s ethnic and cultural identity, which has so much in common with those of us in that 1.5 and 2.0 generation journey. While there are universal principles to the Christian faith, there are also particulars, and it is up to us to speak into it; non-Asians can’t do it for us.

In my quest for other Asian American voices that addressed the tragedy on Sunday 4/22/07 that specifically address our cultural context through a theological lens, here are sermons I’ve found so far [will be updated as we find more; please add more in the comments section below too]::

• Dr. Peter Cha at Cityview Presbyterian Church in Chicago: “A Blessed Unity” (Psalm 133) mp3 audio
  around 4:30, mention the collective sense of shame and guilt.. concern for backlash.. how about the family of the gunman.. in his isolation, creating a narrative of anger and resentment.. what would have happened if he had found a loving community that would have accepted him and embraced him? And, at around 13:30, begins reflecting about how we fail to talk about problems in an Asian-cultured church… the Cho family was involved in a small Presbyterian church in Centreville… call: to become a different kind of church.. create a safe place.. mentions theology of misfits [cf. Dave Gibbons' NewSong church] …
• Rick Kim at First Harvest Chapel in Irvine CA: “Are We Guilty Too”
  Pastor Rick spends the entire sermon unpacking a number of factors affecting next generation Asian Americans
• DJ Chuang at Great Commission Community Church in Arlington, Virginia: “Why does it hurt so much?” (John 11:17-36) [mp3 audio]
  In my sermon, I strongly suggested that we need a contextualized Gospel and not only a generic Gospel, and how Jesus can redeem and transform every aspect of our lives, especially our Asian shame-based culture and its tendencies (e.g. suppressing emotions, resisting mental health care, and more), and I quote Tim Keller several times
  

• Reverend Hank Hahm at Christ Central Presbyterian Church in Vienna, Virginia (near Centreville) — “Growing in Christ: Shaped by Suffering” (2 Corinthians 1:3-11) — audio + video
  speaks to our need for comfort in the midst of tragedy and suffering, while speaking to the cultural context as well as how the shooter is “not that different from me”; Hank also quotes Keller
• Rev. Eugene Cho at Quest Church in Seattle — “Love Wins” [mp3] (2 Corinthians 5:17-21, Isaiah 1:17, Matthew 5:9)
  Eugene speaks for almost an hour (57 minutes), I (DJ) haven’t listened to it yet, but I’m sure he had a lot to say!
• Pastor Peter Chin at Open Door Presbyterian Church in Herndon, VA (near Centreville), “The God of All Comfort” (2 Corinthians 1:3-11) [mp3 audio]
  

• Pastor Henry Mui at Silicon Valley Alliance Church addressed the tragedy a Sunday later on 4/29/07 in his sermon, “VT – Reflections and Questions“
• Pastor Matt Ro at Journey Church of Atlanta, “The Question of Suffering” (John 9:1-12)
  

• Pastor Iggi Choi at Hope Chapel, “The Freedom of Forgiveness” (Luke 23:34)
  

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[cross-posted from djchuang.com]

African Americans have their Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson. While these few do not represent the whole, they boldly speak up for the whole. And, the mainstream media goes to them for their perspectives.

Caucasian Americans have their Billy Graham and Rick Warren. There’s also Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson. Again, they don’t represent the whole diversity of Anglo Christians, they boldly speak up for the whole.

Latino and Hispanic Americans kind of have Jesse Miranda and Luis Palau as their voices. I don’t know exactly who speaks for their tribe, but I think they’d boldly speak up for the whole.

Even the Hebrews had their Moses and Joshua.

Asian Americans have no one who boldly speaks up for the whole. We need a voice.

What would it take to have that voice?

Passion. A clarion voice that boldly speaks up with confidence and persuasion. You can’t fake passion. You have to have that fire in the belly, no fear to speak up even if you’re misunderstood, even if you don’t have the perfectly-crafted words. Public speaking is 93% about delivery and only 7% about the words.

Platform. A clarion voice has a large audience that listens to what s/he has to say for both intangible and tangible reasons. Some call it charisma. Definitely need cross-over appeal in both the religious and civic realms, as well as inside the tribe and outside. Need to have an organization with financial supporters that keep that platform active too.

Conviction. A clarion voice has to have something to say. That person has to have a sufficient understanding of the tribe’s compelling concerns. And that person is taking action to address those concerns and boldly advocating others to join the cause. That person lives out that conviction with an unwavering lifetime commitment through both actions and words.

Like it or not, we as Asian Americans will be stereotyped because we have that face. But without a voice, there is no way to change that stereotype of silence. Without a voice, we’ll be invisible and misunderstood.

I know there are many differences among Asian Americans: ethnicities, languages, cultures, generations, affinities. “Asian American” is not an attractive label or strong rally cry. Asians are known for being group-oriented, but Asians aren’t known for rallying around a voice. Without a voice boldly speaking up for the whole, we’ll remain apart.

Could I be that voice? You’ve got to be kidding! I know a lot of things I don’t have in and of myself. It takes a driven and focused Type-A personality to be that clarion voice.

What I do have is my personal blog. I’ve occasionally advocated for the next generation Asian Americans. But like others who are in this space, I didn’t want to be pigeon-holed or stereotyped. I prefer being eclectic and speak of my many varied interests.

But last week has changed me. I will use my words to advocate for the next generation Asian Americans. 7% still counts.

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Last Sunday was my last at the church I had served for almost three years as their youth and English JDSN for about a dozen teenagers.

There is a part of me that mourns today, just seven days later. I know that this happens to churches all around the country — people leave and people move on, and as one of my youth randomly loved to declare, “things happen”. Indeed, things happen. this church in particular has had a lot of things happen.

Three years ago, I was emailed out of the blue from someone who was merely an acquaintance from college. The associate pastor had left and took the bulk of the church with him. There were even threats that people that had left were going to reclaim some of their “gifts” to the church, things like the projector and the drumset or the PA system. The youth group went from fifty or so, to fifteen. They were desperate. The JDSN at the time was finishing up at seminary and was going to leave Easter Sunday. They needed someone, anyone, to help. Could I be anyone?

I had been married a total of six months at the time and was still seeking full-time employment as a marketer in my brave new world of Atlanta. The pastor and his wife reasoned with me of how much experience I would gain, how much good I could do, and how they’d be willing to support me. But it was a desperate sort of pleading and I was moved. I asked for time to think it over. At the time I was attending one of the larger, “successful” EM congregations in the city, one that my wife and I felt comfortable to be a part of and grow with. But every Sunday since I had found out about this desperate, torn church, the comfortable plush seat and the slick worship band gave me a feeling that I didn’t like. It wasn’t fair and I wasn’t at peace to worship in the luxury of resources and ministries now that I knew.

My wife and I made a big decision to start the Sunday after Easter in 2004. I preached my first sermon on Gideon and how God brought his numbers down to absurd levels, just to show them He was going to win their battles. I was so uncomfortable and scared to stand in front of twelve teenagers and be audacious enough to tell them what God could do. They had seen so much of the ugly side of church and its strange politics, that I wondered if God was even real to them. People began addressing me as JunDoSaNim (JDSN), which I didn’t answer to right away and felt wholly unworthy and uncomfortable with the title. The youth just called me Mister D and that was just fine.

Despite the fact that those who were freshmen in high school when I started are going to graduate this year, I’d have to say I learned and have grown more in the past three years with them than they with me. I made a lot of mistakes. I never felt like I did enough or prepared enough. As I’ve heard said from another pastor friend, the seat of my pants is well worn. I wish I could say that I was leaving a healthy, thriving youth ministry behind me as I step down, but I’m not sure that is true. Balancing a full-time job, a young marriage, and “part-time” youth ministry was very difficult and with so few in numbers, it was always hard to generate momentum or even create the semblance of health. There were times when I would find myself weeping with exhaustion, but happy that I was living out a joy that only God could have given me through this handful of teenagers.

I stepped down this spring because I realized the onus was no longer on me, but on the youth themselves. For the first time, I sensed that maybe it was me who was the biggest obstacle to growth in their lives. And it was time for me to move on too…things happen, but for a good reason. I’m interested how the next chapter begins, I hope they are too.

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Seven days. Anxious in the house and just as nervous when out of it.

In the last week, my wife and I have been busy. We’ve paid visits to several neighbors and, I’m ashamed to say in some cases, introduced ourselves for the first time since we moved in the community over four years ago. We were surprised at how everyone was willing to talk about the incident and their anxiety. We were especially intent on trying to meet women who lived by themselves. The victim of the crime committed last week has not been home each time we’ve visited. I think we’ll keep trying until we can meet her. Over the weekend, we purchased and installed a new lock for the backdoor, put up faux wood blinds to cover the dining room windows, and installed a motion-activated floodlight for the back of the house. Security doesn’t favor laziness, and as my wife and I have found out, paranoia is a full-time job.

Last night, there was a community meeting where the police addressed everyone in our subdivision as well as anyone interested. From my wife’s account, it was a packed house with standing room only. I stayed home with the dog and to reset our wireless network since we moved the computer upstairs. But from what my wife told me, the police had nabbed a suspect for 7 out of the 13 burglaries.

“Just 7?”, I asked.

“Yes, he lives in the neighborhood. That’s how he knew when everyone came home, knew where all the single women lived.” She shuddered.

“What’s his name?” I asked.

“Damien…Darrien Dwayne Bryant.”

“Darrien?”

“Yeah, a seventeen-year-old. But there was no way he was 240 pounds.” We were told by the cops that visited a week ago that the suspect that had committed the rape was large, 6′ 3″ and 240 pounds.  “He looked pretty thin to me.” But my mind was still stuck on the name.

“I know Darrien.”

“You do? How?”

“We played basketball together.” My wife’s eyes were round as saucers. “I can’t believe he would have done those things. Oh that’s terrible.” My heart fell. Darrien ventured out a few times last summer and played basketball on my side of the subdivision because well, that’s where everyone came out to play. He played for the local football team and even though he was long and lanky, he was ripped with muscles everywhere. He wasn’t great at basketball, but was tall and strong enough to make up for any void in his skillset. I took a liking to him and always greeted him. If he was on my team, I never worried about our team getting the rebound. He didn’t seem dangerous to me– he liked my dog and knew our side of the street well. There were times when he didn’t seem so boyish to me, especially when he wasn’t smiling — it would be easy for others to dismiss him as a thug, I could see that, but it’s hard for me to picture him breaking into people’s homes and stealing from them, much less attacking women or raping them.

“I can’t believe you know him. They arrested him this morning. They’re not sure if he’s the one for the assault or the rape yet — they’re still awaiting results.”

“Are they sure it’s him, that did all the burglaries?”

“What’s the word they used…just cause? I don’t remember, but they found evidence to confirm it beyond reasonable doubt. They found stolen items in his house.”

“Oh. I guess that’ll do it.” I was disappointed that it was someone I knew and had interacted with. It made me wish I had known him more, tried harder to see what was under his ‘tough’ exterior. Maybe I could’ve been a part of his life. It made me wonder if perhaps the one reason why our house had gone untouched was just that, at least he knew who I was. “If he goes to jail. I’d like to visit him.”

“Honey, he’s going to jail. He’s charged with seven burglaries. He might not be the only one,  they seem to think he will lead them to others, but he’s most likely going to end up in jail.”

“I’d still like to visit him.” She nodded.

Seven out of thirteen — which means there’s still a few missing pieces. I wonder if I know their names too.

The article in the paper says there were only 11 robberies, but my wife reported at the meeting that the number stated was 13 incidents. I don’t know if the assault negates a robbery or what.  I can only say that there are no winners. My wife and I don’t feel that much better or safer. We just feel more fragile…but perhaps, as we’ve been praying, perhaps that’s a good thing.

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Last Tuesday night’s conversation at the Korean bakery/coffee shop, Cafe Mozart, was iconoclastic from start to finish. Friends from the local cohort, EmergingPhoenix, braved a visit to a less-frequented-by-non-Koreans Korean coffee joint outside the perimeter of Atlanta. They ordered bubble tea and Korean pastries and we sat at the table to discuss the intersection of culture and the Asian American church with people of different races, cultures, and churches. For starters, the bubble tea wasn’t a hit. Tapioca has “no flavor” and its addition to the otherwise fruity drink content as a “texture thing” was a bit of a stretch for my friends Troy and Melvin. Melvin, in particular, suggested that perhaps bubble tea could be improved if the tapioca had flavor, or perhaps replaced with raisins…I’ll throw that one out there for any budding entrepreneurs out there –  Raisin bubble tea = gold mine.

But you if you think that Melvin’s mind is limited to entrepreneurial genius, you’d be sorely underestimating him. At one point, as my friends and I asked the question of whether an Asian American church was a valid repsonse to merely an Asian American subscription to the white church , he responded powerfully,“Nationalism is the only defense against imperialism.” In other words, in order to understand where the American empire ends and we begin, is to re-evaluate the unconscious rate of assimilation. He and others implored us to create the space and expend the energy to explore our particular response to the Gospel as opposed to accepting the married doctrines of Western materialism, consumerism, and faith even if our fathers fail to separate the two.

Troy asked us to join with others in our generation to find those critical voices that help define Asian Americanism. That same type of iconoclasm may help to create synergies in giving an Asian American voice in church and even vice versa. He posited the example of Karl Marx and his critique of the church in his time that was essentially a cultural critique; perhaps Asian Americans who are unchurched can help in the development of an AA church in diagnosing some of our inadequacies. It is one thing for those who are vested in preservation of the status quo to criticize it, but re-invention requires fresh eyes.

Something else that was shared was the notion of reaching back to excavate things from our Asian history and culture as we grow forward in our understanding of our cultural gifts. Troy likened it to Presbymergent — of retaining and drawing from rich Presbyterian and Reformed traditions to see the Kingdom grow in new ways.  Confucianism and Korea’s Independence movement were mentioned as places to start. However, a key comment was that our gift was to be shared with others. For instance, Pat mentioned that he was moved by Andrew Sung Park’s notion of Han for providing him a new language to address sin. It appears what we stand to gain in our excavation is gold for us all.

The subtext to the conversation and the ways in which it was explored shed a new light that perhaps the standard definition and ambition of a “multi-ethnic” church is/was somewhat fallacious. The “ideal” multi-ethnic church was one that subscribed to the American dream, without challenging each race and culture within that community to find their voice. The unity was purchased by accepeting a default to be “white”, or “American”  not to celebrate or explore the ways in which God made us — that is to say, different. It seems that culture was to be checked at the door, when instead a true multi-ethnic church might instill us with informed, redemptive tools to pick up and engage our culture even more. A pan-Asian church then, could be a multi-ethnic church that might be closer to something that can achieve unity and diversity in its ability to instill a comfortable launching pad for us to reach back and forward at the same time.

So we shared about what this meant for all of us at the table– White, Black and Asian, to share visions of the church together. So exhilerating to think that we were exhibiting a picture of it that night in that coffee shop — free to be ourselves and choosing to be together. Next time, no bubble tea — just more of us.

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