The Christian Post recently interviewed Amos Yong, a professor at Regent University, who was one of the contributors to the book Aliens in the Promised Land, Why Minority Leadership Is Overlooked in White Churches and Institutions.  I think it’s clear from the title that the book is going to be pretty thought provoking, which is good thing when it comes to the discussion on race.  One part of the interview really stuck out to me, where Dr. Yong says this:

What I mean by “racialization” is that we learn how to look at the world through a racial lens, one in which whites are superior and other races or ethnic groups less equal, if not inferior. I don’t think we teach this as the God-given truth, but we do act in ways that basically presume the superiority of white evangelical culture, values, and perspectives. Growing up Asian (Chinese) in America and even into my young adult years, I tried to act and become white since I felt that full conversion to Christ meant leaving behind Asian culture and embracing “Christian” (white) culture. Whites don’t realize that they are communicating this, and Asians do not generally realize that they are receiving this message.

A tough statement, but I agree.  I have seen it firsthand on several occasions, how many white evangelicals do not realize that some elements of “evangelical” culture are not truly religious or theological, but really…white, and uniquely American.  They assume that their approach to Christianity is completely above culture, based solely on universal biblical principles.  But this is simply not true, as the different streams of evangelicalism around the world have substantial differences from American evangelicalism (and of course, some important similarities).  So I appreciate what Dr. Yong, and the other contributors to this book, are saying.

BUT.  There’s always a BUT with me, and usually it’s a big one.  What can I say, I like big but’s.

I think it’s important for minority Christians like myself to admit to themselves that these cultural blindspots are not at all limited to white evangelicals.  All Christians exhibit these same tendencies, where they are blissfully unaware that their cultural assumptions are not shared by all.  And I know this is true because as much I have seen this dynamic at work in the white evangelical church, I have seen it just as much, if not much more, in the Korean-American church.

In my many years in the Korean-American context, I became acutely aware of how cultural beliefs could be subconsciously but inextricably tied to spiritual ones.  In many Korean churches, their approach to their life of faith is biblical, orthodox, but distinctly Korean.  And the Korean elements went hand-in-hand with the Christian ones, as if they were one in the same.  This dynamic is not just limited to recent immigrants, but was demonstrated even in second-generation churches where English is the first language, and there is a great deal of familiarity with American culture. They freely use references to Korean phrases and culture as if all their people were hip to them, which they were not.  There were subtle elements of both Confucianism, as well as a success/failure mentality.  Since I’m a Korean person who is not culturally all that Korean, I pointed out that such actions could be deeply alienating to those who are not Korean.  I was listened to courteously, but nothing changed in most of those churches.

I don’t say this to dump on the Korean-American church, not in the least.  Quite to the contrary, I have deep admiration for them and their contribution to the Body of Christ.  But I say this to remind us that we all have cultural blindspots, even minorities.  All Christians have aspects of their faith that are informed by their culture and context, and that we subconsciously foist upon others.  All Christians, from all racial and cultural backgrounds, are just as susceptible to this tendency.  And if we limit our criticism to the white church, this ignores the fact that this is a huge problem in all churches, including ones led by minorities.  We all need to do our best to check our assumptions, myself most of all.

Now, one might say that this situation is different because white evangelicals are a majority and privileged culture, and have been so for so long, Their assumptions have gone unchecked for a longer period of time, and are more dominant and deeply seated.  I don’t disagree with that idea in the least. A majority and homogenous demographic becomes a petri dish for rampant unchecked assumptions.  But at the same time, we shouldn’t overlook that every culture can be a “privileged” one, at certain moments and situations.  For example, I am a minority in the United States, and yes, by and large, my viewpoint is not a privileged one.  And so I often find myself forced to navigate the assumptions of other people, assumptions that I myself do not share.

But this is not always the case.  For instance, in an Asian American church, I am the privileged one, with experience and friendships and awareness that others do not possess, and so could easily force others to swim in my wake.  I am sure that I have inadvertently done so.  In the context of the well-educated, I am again “privileged”.  I could assume that everyone knows what the word “perspicacious” means, when most do not.  And so just because a person is not necessarily in a majority/privileged context racially, or in the nation as a whole, that hardly means that they won’t find themselves playing that role in some other substantial part of their life.  If we ignore this, and focus only on calling the majority white culture to account, that just leaves us susceptible to those same problematic tendencies in our own lives.

Again, I don’t say this to disagree at all with what Dr. Yong says in this interview, nor with the premise of this book.  The assumptions of white evangelicalism are deeply seated and have gone unchecked for a long time.  They have been, and continue to be, deeply alienating to those who find themselves outside of that context.  I admire the authors’ courage and willingness to call the church to account.  But more than anything, I want to confess my own culpability in this as well, that I have my own blindspots, and have often acted in accordance with what was easy and comfortable to me, and not necessarily what was respectful and loving to others.  Yes, white evangelicals could do better when it comes to being sensitive to outsiders.  But God knows so could I, and so could we all.

Well, there is one thing that kept me from writing, and that is rejection.  After a long and drawn out process with a wonderful editor at a wonderful publishing house, my memoir was once again turned away.  This is hardly the first time, but I’m beginning to think that it might be the last time.  I truly don’t know if I have the stomach to keep pursuing the dream of being published.

But even more than that, I have started questioning my motives for wanting to be published in the first place.  I have quite a few positive motivations, the fact that my family’s story is one that illustrates God’s unique ability to save in the most unexpected of ways, and that there are so many others who deal with a cancer diagnosis and can find so little reason for hope in that dark season.  I tried holding onto those motivations for as long as I could during this arduous process, and am trying still.

But in the end, I could not shake the feeling that part of me was doing this for cred.  Not credit, but credibility.  You know, street cred.  Christian street cred.  Because being published is a big deal in the evangelical world, a major step in the process of “making it”.  It seems like all major pastors and thinkers and leaders in the western Christian world publish a book, which in turn makes it into a goal for others who want to follow in their steps.  When a Christian leader gets published (and not self-published mind you, for that apparently is vanity of vanities), he or she can finally breathe a sigh of relief.  They have finally made it, having earned what has become some serious Christian cred.  On their resume and Twitter page, they now have the honor of writing,

Author of “The Once and Future Bling”, now on Amazon for $9.99.

This might seem like sour grapes on my behalf…and it totally is.  I might not be thinking this way had I secured a book deal by now.  But to be honest, I think I would.  There is some part of me, and not small, that dreamed of being published because of the Christian credibility that such a thing imparts upon a writer.  And I know I’m not alone in thinking this way.

But as I ponder this, I’m reminded of what the writer of Hebrews says:

In bringing many sons and daughters to glory, it was fitting that God, for whom and through whom everything exists, should make the pioneer of their salvation perfect through what he suffered.

He’s talking about how Jesus himself was perfected by suffering.  But how could this be?  Was he a sinner?  That’s not what the writer of Hebrews is implying.  The word for “perfect” in the Greek is not the same as our conception in English, of having no errors.  Perfect in the Greek sense is closer to “being whole, or needing nothing”, and in the context of what is being written in Hebrews, the author is saying that the incarnation and the suffering the Jesus endured allowed him to draw closer to us, to understand us, to be able to truly call us brothers and sisters.

This may seem small in light of the tremendous victory that Jesus achieved in the cross, but it is not.  Through suffering, Jesus is not just our Savior, but one who identifies with us personally.  He is our co-sufferer, our commiserator, who understands the worst of what we go through, and the darkest temptations.  He is on our side through difficult times, our advocate.  But even more than this, He is our counselor, one who faced all of the things that we do, is experienced, and more than this, came out victorious.  In other words, He is the best counselor and model for persevering through suffering that we could ask for!

So we can take encouragement from the fact that Jesus doesn’t just minister to our broken spiritual state, our separation from God due to sin, but also our broken emotional state, our isolation, and our confusion.  Suffering allowed Jesus not just to save us, but to comfort, to embrace, and to encourage us as well.  That is why Joseph Scriven penned these words in his famous hymn:

What a Friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear!

What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer!

O what peace we often forfeit, O what needless pain we bear,

All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer.

On a side note, Joseph Scriven was man who was well acquainted with suffering and grief himself.  An Irish Christian in the mid 1800’s who gave tremendously to the poor, he was supposed to get married when his fiancée drowned the night before the wedding.  In his grief, he emigrated to Canada and fell in love there again, was engaged, and his second fiancée died of pneumonia.

And I realize now that the greatest cred that a Christian can have is not a book deal, or a gig on the conference speaking circuit, or to be a pastor of a kilochurch…I mean, megachurch.  It is suffering.  Suffering is, and should be, the truest sign of credibility that we look for in our leaders because you cannot truly understand the gospel and the depth of God’s love unless you understand suffering.  Suffering lies at the root of the history of Israel.  It permeates the life of Christ and the disciples and the early church.  Suffering is the very reason Jesus comes to us in the first place.  You cannot divorce suffering from the gospel.

But you also can’t really teach someone to understand suffering.  There is nothing you can ever read or study or hear that can ever fully communicate the depth and breadth of what it feels like to suffer.  You can watch a great movie about someone losing someone close to them or depression, but that movie will pale in comparison to the feeling of actual loss, to the personal helplessness of depression.  You can study economics and the markets and all that, but that doesn’t mean you know what it feels like to be unemployed or foreclosed on or homeless, not in the least.  There are no academic degrees in suffering, only battle scars.  Suffering can only be truly understood by those who have endured it themselves.

So you see how suffering is the truest form of Christian credibility.  It bestows upon a person unparalleled insight into the heart of the gospel – why Jesus came, and what He went through to make all things new.   The sacrifice of Christ, and His victory, became so real, so powerful, and so very necessary.  And what’s more, it allows us to be truly “compassionate”.  That word, when dissected, means “with-suffering” – to suffer alongside someone.  Too often we think of compassion as giving a loaf of bread to someone, when it really means is to be hungry alongside of them, to truly know hunger and brokenness.  This is what made Jesus’ ministry so perfect, that He not only saved us, but suffered alongside us.  He is Lord, and Friend, both.

So if publishing comes, so be it.  I would welcome it, and make the most of it.  But if it does, I will not allow it to be the badge on my sleeve, my claim to Christian credibility.  Because a minister’s true credibility is found in the scars that he or she bears.

It all started when I decided to forego med school for divinity school, and become a pastor rather than a doctor.  In terms of prestige, income, all that good stuff, that was a pretty questionable decision, especially if you had asked my parents at the time (they are totally okay with it now, and especially since I have a brother who is a doctor and a sister who is a lawyer).  Then, when we found out that Carol had cancer but was also pregnant, we rejected our doctor’s and decided to try to keep the baby while moving forward with chemo.  We knew that we were taking a gamble with two lives when we made that decision, that there was a chance that the drugs would kill the baby, and the delay also would kill my wife.  The extremely weighty and extremely questionable nature of our decision was not lost on us.

One could also say that our choice to move into an overwhelmingly Black neighborhood was a strange one, given the historical tensions between Koreans and African-Americans.  But if that was a strange decision, then our decision to stay here for four years after repeatedly being targeted for crime was something close to foolish.  To be honest, I have wanted to move several times, but my wife repeatedly persuaded me not to, convinced that there was some reason for us to remain.  And so I conceded, not so much because I thought it was a wise course of action, but because I have learned to always trust my wife’s convictions over my own doubts.

But I made a stupid decision even more recently than that:

A few months ago, I was offered a job by a prominent anti-slavery organization, which I won’t mention by name.  It was an incredible position that allowed me to use my skills as a communicator, while at the same time working to end slavery around the world – kind of a win-win.  But what made this offer especially tempting was the fact that not only did it pay much more than my temporary position as interim pastor of Peace Fellowship, but it would also offer full health benefits, which I was not receiving at Peace.  So an awesome and permanent job, a chance to work from home, more money, and full benefits – or what one might call a win-win-win-win situation.

But it just didn’t feel right.  I could not shake the thoroughly ridiculously feeling that my time at Peace had not yet come to a close, that there was still some reason that I was supposed to remain there, even if it meant I would have to reject what might be an offer of a lifetime.  And so with my face burning at the idiocy of it all, I turned down one of the most respected Christian organizations in the world in order to continue in a temporary position that paid less, and offered no health benefits.

Now THAT’S stupid.

But strangely, it was these very decisions that provided the foundation for the incredibly unique developments of the past few months.  Yes, we undoubtedly took a gamble when we rejected the advice of one of the best doctors in the US and did not terminate our baby.  But that baby survived and became Jonathan, and my wife survived as well, and is still cancer free today.  And that experience lent credibility and maturity to my life story that it did not possess before. The decision to move into a very different neighborhood, and then stay in that neighborhood in the face of crime also was quite stupid.  But it was that same stubborn commitment to stay that made my essay to Christianity Today stand out to its editors, and made it one of the winners of their “This Is Our City” essay contest.  And it was this essay which first caught the attention of media outlets.

And lastly, had I accepted that job at that awesome organization back in November, I wouldn’t had reason to be interviewed by NPR, and ultimately by CBS Sunday Morning.  And what’s more, my family was able to fundraise the entire amount that we needed for health insurance for this year…in the span of ten days.  So strangely, some of the most amazing and inimitable moments of the past few months of my family’s life have been the result of what ostensibly look like questionable, if not straight up foolish, choices.

And I think this highlights a very important point that we often forget as Christians – that sometimes, we need to be willing to make stupid decisions.  I know that sounds really bad advice for a pastor to give, but hear me out.  Throughout Scripture, we hear writers talk about the difference between the ways of God and the ways of man.  Isaiah tells us that God’s ways are not our ways, and that as the heavens are high above the earth, so are God’s ways higher than the ways of man – in his mind, there is really no comparison between the two.  Paul states this same principle in a more adversarial light, saying that God’s ways are foolish to the world, even though in reality, they are the very power of salvation.

The events of Scripture also reflect this dynamic: God sending bread from heaven so unexpected and surprising that the people called it “What Is It?” bread.  God commanding Joshua to execute what could possibly be the stupidest military maneuver of all time: to march around the city of Jericho with their most prized religious relic, and after a few days of that, yell REALLY LOUD.  And most importantly, God sending a Savior to earth to deal with sin – not an angel who came to punish sinners, but His own Son who would die for them.  Clearly, God’s ways are often not the ways that we would typically choose for ourselves.

This means that as Christians, we have to be willing to make foolish decisions that make sense to hardly anyone.  We don’t do this to simply be weird or counter-cultural, even though that’s not a terrible end unto itself.  We do this because we believe God sometimes moves in ways that we cannot begin to understand, and that don’t make sense.  If we only limit ourselves to making decisions that make good logical sense to us and to other human beings, then we very well may miss the movements of God in our lives.  We are like the rich young man in the gospels, who simply cannot take Jesus’ patently foolish advice to sell all his possessions and follow Him, and so, misses an opportunity to become one of the disciples of Christ.  We must entertain the stupid, the foolish, the improbable, because very often, that is where God is found.

Don’t get me wrong, one can take this too far.  Surely not all foolish impulses we have are from God – SURELY.  And God is also allowed to make perfect sense, if He so chooses.  But think about it this way: if all the ways of God made sense, and if the most logical decision was always the best one…then what need would we have for faith?  And if you travel the same path as everyone else…how will you ever stand apart from the crowd?

Now, Christian music is a very broad term, so I think some defining is in order.  I don’t mean music that is written expressly for use in the church for praise and worship.  I’m talking about Christian music that does not exactly fit in church, but has an unmistakable Christian theme in its lyrics and content, what I think is commonly referred to as CCM, or Christian Contemporary Music.  It tries to cleave to some of the lyrical and theological orthodoxy of worship music, but with the musical sensibilities of pop and rock (and sometimes even hip hop), and somehow manages to mangle both.  I don’t like this kind of Christian music, and I know I’m not alone.

I listen to it everyday on the radio, partially because I find the lyrical content that’s broadcast on other stations repugnant (“Cuz your sex takes me to paradise, yeah your sex takes me to paradise…”), and partially because as a pastor, I feel somewhat guilty if I don’t.  But I regularly grit my teeth while listening to the local Christian radio station.  My beef is that even though the music has such high production values and is performed by such high caliber musicians, it often lacks realness and authenticity.  Amazingly, it manages to sound shallow even when talking about ideas of incredible depth.  The lyrics are prosaic and affected, and the themes that it covers are shockingly narrow.  There are the “I’m a bad person but you love me anyway” songs, the “Teach me to love like you songs”, and the “Don’t give up” songs.  Aaaand, that’s about it.  Of course, I’m being facetious and stupid, which comes as no surprise to those of you who read this blog regularly.

But in mid-tooth grit this week, I realized something that made me have a lot more respect and compassion for people who are in the Christian music industry: they are in a ridiculously impossible position.  Think for a moment of the opinions and influences that a Christian musician must cater to:

First, Christian music must be theologically orthodox.  Even though Christianity is better understood as a relationship than a religion, it has obvious doctrines and beliefs associated with it.  So that means that Christian musicians must write songs that are theologically consistent with the doctrines of Christianity.  This is a constraint that no other songwriter is forced to adhere to.  After all, Brittney Spears doesn’t write songs with a mind towards theological orthodoxy…actually, I don’t even know if she can write songs at all.  And being creative while striving to be orthodox isn’t easy – in fact, the creative process usually flourishes in the opposite environment.  But Christian musicians are forced to walk a difficult line: to be creative and expressive, while making sure that every word is consistent with a faith that is many thousands of years old.  Not easy.

Then, Christian music must also minister to people.  Music of any kind makes a statement.  But for Christians, they can’t simply write a song without care of how it affects people, but make sure it is consistent with Christian values and purposes, and doesn’t “stumble” people, as the phrase goes.  And in order to accomplish this, many Christian artists hedge their bets and write songs that are of saccharine sweetness – not because they themselves are not familiar with suffering or have nothing deeper to say, but because they don’t want to take the risk of writing a song that is so honest that it might negatively impact a person spiritually or emotionally.  I can’t really think of too many secular artists for whom such concerns are any kind of consideration.  Maybe Chris Brown?  Probably not.

Third, these unfortunate people must then think about all of the other more general considerations of musicianship: is the song catchy?  Is it musically creative?  Will it sell?  Do I sing well?  Am I out of tune?  Is this the right kind of drum beat, or should I ask to compress that snare some more?  Why can’t I get along with my guitarist?  How do I get my music out there?  How do I set myself apart?  How do I feed my family?  Is law school totally out of the picture??

And lastly, Christian artists make music for some of the harshest critics in the world.  As much as I hate to admit it, evangelicals are a touchy and judgmental bunch, given to vocally criticizing the smallest perceived infraction of their values.  You think I’m making this up, but I’m not.  For instance, the children’s show VeggieTales once wrote an episode where the antagonist sings a song about how chocolate bunnies are awesome to eat.  And there was an outcry about this song, parents writing in that they didn’t think it was appropriate for their children to be singing a song about bad eating habits, even if it was sung by the antagonist!  I guess they didn’t trust their children to pick up on the fact that a song sung by the bad guy is not supposed to be prescriptive.  Anyway, the outcry was hot enough to make the creators of the show re-write the song with more palatable lyrics!

So imagine trying to write music that is theologically orthodox, positively uplifting, not to mention musically awesome…all for people whom you know might rip you to shreds if you mess any one of those up.  If you are orthodox but lack coolness, younger Christians will mock you mercilessly for being out of touch.  If you are cool but your lyrics are theologically not sharp enough, older Believers will lay into you.  If you don’t blend these dynamics to perfection, then hyper-critical people like me write stupid blog posts about it.  And all the while, unfettered non-Christian artists laugh and laugh as you labor under a sodden wet blanket of unrealistic expectations.

*shudder*

When you consider all of these factors, it’s no wonder that Christian music sounds like it does, trying for so many things, and falling short. And so, I’ve resolved not to be so critical of Christian artists anymore.  In fact, I would take it a step further and say that I have to repent for my judgmentalism, and perhaps more than a few of us need to confess that we have been unduly critical of Christian music.  Christian artists already find themselves in a difficult position, and it’s a shame that their position should be made any harder by their own brothers and sisters in faith being overly-critical and mean-spirited, especially when I doubt that many of us could come even close to doing any better.  So even though I don’t really enjoy it, I will continue to listen to CCM in the car.  I may not enjoy the songs, but I do appreciate what they are trying to achieve, and respect the artists who create them, and that’s no small thing.

Plus, it’s not like the music on the other stations is anything to write home about either.  “Cuz baby you’re a firework! Come on show ‘em what you’re worth…” 

Just a few thoughts I had after watching it myself:

First off, Peace Fellowship isn’t really what I would call “predominantly African American” – it really is closer to multi-ethnic.  There are African Americans, Caucasians, Korean-Americans, Africans, mixed families, Europeans, um…all this to say that Peace Fellowship is a wonderfully confusing place to worship.  And I think the piece consciously played up this angle to emphasize the oddness of a supposedly black church having a Korean-American interim pastor.  And that would indeed be odd…except that it is not really what Peace Fellowship is.

Secondly, Peace Fellowship was already awesome before I even got there.  It’s an incredible group of people, quite possibly the most welcoming and caring congregation that I have ever had the privilege to work with.  My predecessor, Dr. Dennis Edwards, had established this colorblind community that cared very little if its interim pastor was Korean-American or not.  He had laid the foundation for everything that was on display in that piece.  I had mentioned him several times in my interviews with CBS, and it irked me that he went completely unrecognized.  The piece made it seem as if I had brought a fair and open-minded attitude with me, when in truth, it existed for a decade before I even stepped through the door.

Thirdly, I come off very, very well.  I mean, they portray me as some kind of saint, for which I am thankful.  But at the same time, there was a little misdirection involved in accomplishing this feat.  Everything that I had communicated in the interviews was chopped up and recombined, so much so that I don’t think a single idea that I had was ever communicated in its entirety.  For example, at one point I said, “I’m just going to bring it…”, and then correspondent says, “And what he brought was an idea [of open-mindedness].”  But that’s not actually what I was trying to say.  The “IT” that I was referring to was not really open-mindedness, but a focus on biblical preaching.  In preaching circles, that’s what the expression “bring it” means – it means to passionately and faithful preach God’s word.  And that is what truly endeared me to the people of Peace Fellowship, that we both valued the Word of God to such a degree that our relationship was a very good fit.  But the clip was edited in such a way where that point was not communicated.

I don’t share this to stick my finger in the eye of the crew at CBS Sunday Morning in ANY way, because I really, really appreciate the piece.  By the end, I would say that we were all feeling pretty chummy, as you can tell from this awesome pic: 

I would be an ungrateful fool to do or feel anything else.  I totally understand that they are looking for the most compelling story possible, and the difficult time constraints that they labor under.  But I do think it’s important to point out these nuances, first for the sake of accuracy, but second, as a warning of sorts.  You see, when one person is lionized for doing something good, and the contributions of others overlooked or glossed over, we begin to develop a dangerous mentality where it seems as if only a few chosen people are capable of truly good deeds.

For example, the piece could have been summarized thusly: “A Korean-American graduate of Yale eschews medical school and instead becomes a pastor, and despite the fractured relationship between Blacks and Koreans, his open-minded attitude wins over skeptical members of a black church!”  It is an impossible example to follow, and that is because it is not factual.  I couldn’t even follow the example of the person that was portrayed in that piece, and I’m supposed to BE that person.  The fact is that there was nothing single-handed about the situation at all, as many people were involved in this story: Dr. Edwards, the congregation members, my wife (see previous post), and yes, myself.  It was very much a group effort.

But when we instead choose to focus solely on the efforts of one individual, we are in danger of feeling that we are not qualified nor responsible to imitate their example, because after all, how could we?  Their efforts appear superhuman, beyond our ability to achieve.  So we give up, leaving that responsibility to those more qualified than us.  But that would be the absolute last thing that I would want people to take away from my example.  Instead, I hope that the opposite would be true, that people would realize that if someone like me can have a role to play in racial reconciliation, then surely can we all.  Because I certainly don’t see myself as a leader in racial reconciliation, but instead, a very ordinary person who, despite his own personal shortcomings and prejudices, realized that there is still so much potential for us to grow in our understanding of those who are supposed to be the “Other”.

Of course there will undoubtedly be leaders in these endeavors, men and women of great vision and personal strength – I might be one of those people, although I certainly don’t see myself that way.  But despite this, these people are only a piece of the puzzle, the catalyst through which a movement begins and is carried forward, but not completed.  The greatest things that we do, we never do alone, but always with the help of many, many others.

Except that it is not.  Superficially it may appear the very portrait of failure, but hidden beneath the surface, on a spiritual and eternal level, a blessed salvation is being wrought.  It is not the rejected king Jesus who hangs upon the tree, but really, the cumulative sins and failures of humanity itself.  The cross appears to us a picture of hate, but is in fact a picture of love, a perfect demonstration of just how much God loves his creation, and to what lengths he would go to redeem them from their slavery to sin.  A way back to a restored relationship with God is being built on that day, the bricks were Jesus’ own body, the mortar, his blood.

But there was nothing on the surface that would betray those deeper things that God was accomplishing that day, no neon sign that gave away the ending.  It was the perfect scene of failure, through which God would achieve his greatest victory.

The same applies to our own lives.  We have Good Fridays of our own in which we struggle to find meaning and purpose, which often stretch far longer than just one day.  For me, I had a Good Four Years, a long season of sickness, fear, doubt, bitterness, disappointment and failure.  It seemed an unmitigated parade of disasters: cancer, a closed church, unemployment, break-ins.  I could not imagine what possible good God could achieve through the hardships he had place in front of my family.  But I know now that it was through my Good Four Years that he did his very best work in my life.  My fragile faith was imploded, but then rebuilt into something far stronger.  My understanding of the gospel, and the suffering servant who stands at its center, made whole.  I did not praise God for my Good Four Years at that time, but I praise him for them now,  because as painful as they were, they were the years that made me who I am.

The fact is that there is no Easter Sunday without Good Friday, neither in the gospels, nor in our own personal lives.  And difficult though it may be, we must embrace the Good Fridays of life because they are the mysterious and powerful means through which God does His very best work.

May we all have a Good Friday, and an even Better Easter.

But even before the show airs, I already know that there will be one person who will not be given nearly enough credit for her role, and that is my wife. She never gets enough credit for anything, mainly because she’s so quiet and thoughtful, and I’m so loud and thoughtless.  But at every point in our story where it seems like I was doing something courageous, she was doing far more.

For instance, it was she who fought through triple negative breast cancer (the most aggressive form of breast cancer there is), all while pregnant with my son.  It was she who endured morning sickness paired with nausea caused by chemotherapy.  It was she whose blood count dropped so low that she would need transfusions.  It was she who shaved off all her hair and bravely went out without a wig, without a scarf, unwilling to be cowed by the rude stares of passerby’s.  What did I do?  Welp, I washed dishes, did most of the driving, cried in the closet on occasion, but that’s it.  Well, I too shaved my hair and went out in public, but that’s not really the same thing, is it.

And it was she who, after all of those struggles, gave birth to our third child naturally, without epidural of any kind.  I myself told her that she had nothing to prove, that she had demonstrated beyond a shadow of a doubt her tremendous courage, and deserved to take it easy this one time.  She refused, in that gentle but irresistible way that only she can, seeing it as a race that she wanted to finish.  And so she did.

That’s all kinds of crazy.

Here’s another example – the second time our house was broken into, I developed a clinical case of fortress mentality.  I slept by our front door at night, a baseball bat by the side of the couch.  And “slept” is hardly the word for it – it was more “nervously startled at every sound”.  I didn’t want to leave the house, for fear that someone was watching, waiting for us to leave so that they could break back in finish the job, and steal whatever they had missed the first time around.  Carol looked at me and said, “I don’t want to live this way – let’s go to Costco.”  And that was that, we opened the door and left, and went to Costco.  Now, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t experienced what I had experienced – after all, it was her engagement ring the thieves had stolen (although they did take my Xbox, *SOB*).  It was just that her response was so different, to let it slip off her shoulders, and go about living life has she had always done.  Any courage that I displayed in that situation was not intrinsic, but inherited, directly from my wife.  I freely admit this.

And it hardly ends there.  Most people don’t know this, but before my wife and I got married, she was quite the global health superstar, trotting around the world to help set up health clinics in warzones.  She was in Charles Taylor’s Liberia.  She was in Afghanistan and Pakistan only months after 9/11.  She’s been to Eritrea, Burundi.  Her old passport looks like something out of Jason Bourne movie.  And she may be some kind of super-spy in secret, it’s entirely possible.  But that means she’s be letting me win in arm-wrestling on purpose…

But the point is that even before we got married, before she got sick, before I started at this church, she had been living a life of courage and devotion to the kingdom of God, a kingdom of peace and love for fellow human being.  She is the bravest, most caring, most selfless person I have ever had the privilege of knowing.  And if anyone deserves her own special on CBS Sunday Morning, it is Carol, not me.  It’s strange and slightly embarrassing that they are choosing to focus on a neurotic pastor who has failed far more than he has succeeded at anything.  And so until she gets the recognition she deserves, I’m going to continue to sing her praises every chance I get.

But after two years, I have finally gotten around to finishing her book and would like to rectify my previous error by posting some additional thoughts, this time based on a fuller reading of her memoir.  And here’s what I think now:

I stand by everything that I said earlier.

The methodology of parenting that she describes in the book produces highly skilled and effective children, but does not take into account the other ways in which children need to develop: emotionally, spiritually, holistically.  You can really mess up a kid if you raise them like this.  I could tell that even from the reading of the WSJ article, and it was quite clear in the book as well.  I stand by every word of my previous commentary.

Now, many people said to me that Ms. Chua experienced a revelation of sorts by the end of the book, that this style of parenting was not quite fitted to all personality types and cultures.  And it’s true, she does begin to experience some kind of nascent epiphany in the last chapters, after her younger daughter begins to really rebel against her upbringing.  But I would hardly call it a turnaround.  She spends 90% of the book strongly lauding this style of parenting, with examples from China and world history, and ends only with what I would call a begrudging acceptance that that this methodology may not be foolproof.  I mean, look at the title of the book itself, “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother” – unless she’s being ironic, I would say that she still puts a good deal of stock into this idea.  By the end of the book, she seemed to be on the brink of a major insight, but not yet fully aware of it.

In fact, it seemed as if the book was rushed, at least chronologically.  Pivotal shifts are/were going on in her relationship with her daughters at that very time, and rather than see what insights these shifts would eventually yield, or else spend a few years processing her decisions and their consequences, she went and published a book.  So there is no clear resolution by the end, as if she had learned a clear lesson one way or the other.  In my mind, the book ends rather ambivalently, largely because it was written so close to the events themselves.  Her sentiments in the the last chapters of the book reminds me of when I counsel people who have just broken up with their significant other: “I’m totally okay with it really! …but I really hate him right now.  He never paid attention to me, and his habits annoyed me, and I couldn’t stand his mother…”  A lot of questions, justifications, and vacillations, but precious little clarity or closure.

But I would add something to what I had written before, an observation that I had made not just in the reading of this book, but in observing parents at large.  In her book, she constantly makes references to the Chinese style of parenting, which she terms “Tiger Mother”.  In this style of parenting, you push your kids hard to develop skills, they experience success, which in turn positively reinforces their skills and abilities, and uplifts the child.  She sees it as a virtuous circle, where through a mothers’ painful and pain-inducing initial investment, her children are able to become everything that they possibly can be.  I’ll admit that I find this idea quite compelling, and am tempted to imitate this parenting style.

Until I make a simple realization: this is not China.

I don’t say this in a racist way, like what you would read on the comments boards of Yahoo: “If you want to raise your children like that, go back to China!”  I mean that part of the reason that the Tiger Style of parenting flourishes in China is because China has a very different culture than the United States.  There are deeply engrained Confucian values in China: respect for parents, elders, and teachers.  A much heavier emphasis on pride, family, and shame.  Less emphasis on the individual, more on family and community.  And a schooling system that is almost completely centered around test scores.  And as you might imagine, that methodology of parenting does quite well in that cultural millieu, because it is uniquely fitted to the culture that surrounds it.

But the United States could not be any more culturally different China.   All the hallmarks of Chinese culture that I mentioned in the previous paragraph?  I think you could reverse them and safely describe what it means to be an American: diminished respect for elders, emphasis on self fulfillment and the individual, and a fractured schooling system that doesn’t know what it is supposed to be doing, much less how to gauge that children are doing well.  And when you take these differences into account, I think it’s quite clear that the Tiger Style isn’t going to end up well, because the surrounding culture simply does not fit.  No longer are you working with a methodology that has some fitting contours with the rest of society, but instead, stands out like a Korean family in NE DC (hahaha).  Other parents will not understand, and will look on your refusal to let your children go pee as a form of abuse, which it very well might be.  Teachers will not understand.  Children will not understand.  And neither will the media.  And I thought it strange that she was somehow surprised by the backlash to her book, as if she didn’t understand why it was SO controversial.

And this brings me to my point – yes, sarcastic reader, I have one.  It seems so clear to me that you cannot take what is a uniquely Chinese mentality of parenting (and life in general) and expect it to fit painlessly into the American context.  I think the reason that Ms. Chua saw this as okay is that her approach to parenting seems to be largely ideological.  By her own admission in the book, she sees her self as the bookish sort, not naturally clever, but an extremely hard worker that does her research and takes notes.  As the product of years of higher education and law school, her approach to life is probably academic and ideological.  And from this frame of reference, ideas can be transferred into different context with no problem.  Oh, the Chinese style of parenting has such and such benefits?  Then let’s just implement them here in the United States, with children who are second generation, half-Chinese and half-Caucasian!  That should work flawlessly!  And on paper, this works.  Lawyers do this all the time, taking the legal precedent from one case and applying it to others, no problem.

But it doesn’t take a Ph.D for someone to realize that there are going to be severe problems with this, that you can’t take a good idea from one culture and simply expect it to fit in another, in some kind of paradigmatic palette swap.  Culture, parenting, and children are not variables of an equation that can be swapped in and out with one another, and anyone with practical common sense would realize this.  The problem is this: parents don’t have common sense.

I have written about this before, how parents are becoming more and more ideological and dogmatic in their approach to child-rearing.  We make decisions about how to raise our children based not on the realities of our situation, but largely on ideological convictions – the virtues of breastfeeding, cloth diapering, free range children, tiger mothering, and the like. We argue back and forth for one methodology or the other, using the critical thinking skills that schools and higher academia have taught us.  This is what parenting is like for people who are product of over two decades of schooling – a debate of ideologies.

But in this debate, we often lose sight of the common sense and practical realities of our individual situation.  We hail breastfeeding, but do not acknowledge that some women cannot biologically produce enough milk for their babies.  We laud tiger mothering, not taking into account that Americans don’t even know what the term “tiger” is in reference to.  We talk about letting our children wander the streets more to promote creativity, not realizing that for kids in the inner city, the last thing they need is to wander the streets unsupervised.  In a philosophical sense, we are still so very Platonic, pursuing invisible ideals, pure beliefs that are always right no matter, the context or situation.

Now, I’m not a big believer in post-modernity, nor am I sure what that term even means most of the time.  But I do agree with the post-modern tenet that many things in life are completely relative, more things than we would like to admit.  Tiger mothering is the best form of parenting! …in the right culture, and to the right children.  Homeschooling is awesome!… to the right family, with right financial situation.  The way we tell the difference is not through ideological debate, but through a keen awareness of ourselves, our children, and our context.  The problem is that for so many young parents, our awareness of self and others and situation is severely stunted.  We are masters of debate, dogma, and critical thinking, and absolute morons when it comes to practical reality.  We are intellectually brilliant, but lack common sense, the common sense that should tell us that not all forms of parenting will be appropriate for all families.

So I don’t really see Ms. Chua’s book as unique in any real way, but just another salvo in the dogmatic parenting wars which rage in books and blogs.  And until parents learn to blend ideology with practicality in more equal measure, this salvo will hardly be the last.

These brief forays into the public sphere have taught me a lot, and have given me a lot more compassion on the plight of pastors.  You see, evangelical pastors are often lambasted for their lack of engagement with society and politics.  We accuse evangelical leaders of being too passive and silent on the most pressing issues of the day, and wonder if this is due to a lack of conviction, or a lack of courage.  We call them cowards, dinosaurs, unbiblical, irrelevant.  And I hate to admit that I have often joined that chorus of criticism.  But the truth is not nearly so simple.  Although I don’t seek to totally exonerate myself from wrongdoing, here are five reasons why I personally hesitate to speak out on controversial issues:

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The Separation of Church and State

This might seem like something of a cop-out explanation, but you should remember that one of the foundational principles of American culture and government is the separation between church and state.  It’s an idea that was coined by Thomas Jefferson himself, and given (some) weight by the First Amendment.  And for pastors, this goes far beyond the cultural pressure that a person feels to avoid coming off as overly-religious.  For us, there are legal implications because the tax free status of churches depends on maintaining this separation, although instances of enforcement are admittedly rare.

Moreover, this is a contested idea which is constantly undergoing both legal and cultural revision.  Some people believe that this statement dictates a strict separation of spheres, while others believe that this statement was never meant to muzzle individuals in the expression of their opinion.  And under the hazy definitions and wildly contrasting opinions of church and state, pastors around this country furrow our collective brows, trying to discern whether a statement about gay marriage or war or gun violence or welfare could be construed as political, and so legally inappropriate for us to share from the pulpit.  We have this enormous but undefined pillar of American government and culture looming over us, causing us to hesitate in speaking our minds, or at the very least, making us to sit on our hands until someone figures it all out.

We don’t want to lose a single soul

By and large, pastors become pastors in order to win as many as possible to the love Christ, as Paul shares in 1 Corinthians 9.  That is the real reason I became a pastor…that, and my score on the MCAT was not what I had hoped.  I kid!  I did well enough on my MCAT to attend any number of third-tier medical schools.  But the fact that I have a heart to win people to Christ is one of the main reasons that I am hesitant to speak out on controversial issues.

You see, there are many social issues that I care very deeply about, and I believe that Scripture has a clear position on.  But I also am acutely aware that if I say something that is even remotely political, or could be construed thusly, I may lose the ability to speak to John, because he’s a staunch conservative.  Or I can’t counsel Rose, because she’ll think I’m a conservative bigot.  You see, we live in a cultural climate where line between “disagreement” and “hatred” is thin, and fraying fast.  If someone differs from another politically, culturally, or theologically, they are not just different – they are enemies.

This dynamic puts pastors in a bewildering and nearly impossible situation, because we desperately want to win people to Christ, but realize that in order to do so, we can’t step on any toes.  We feel forced to choose between one calling or the other, to be either proclaimers of God’s universal love, or to be prophets of God’s justice and compassion.  It is not easy to balance these roles in any environment, and nearly impossible in our current one.  So in order to retain the ability to speak to all, we sometimes end up speaking not at all.

Criticism from the Outside

I have received some fairly vocal and asinine criticism, even threats, in the past few years.  I have been called “despicable”, “disgusting”, “racist”, and “a communist”.  People have accused me of speaking out in order to make money, which I would love to do, but am thus far unable to figure how to accomplish.  If you could let me know how I could do this, I would be very grateful.  But I have to admit that I have some familiarity with the whole “communist” thing, given that my grandfather lost his life fighting communists in Korea.

I relate most of these instances with wry humor, but the truth is these criticisms anger me.  But they also offend, and are often hurtful.  They sometimes make me afraid.  And they make me want to be quiet in order to avoid them in the future.  That sounds cowardly, but the fact is I’m human.  And we often forget this, that pastors are just people, equally fragile, and equally terrified of criticism and insults as anyone else.  What’s more, the same sensitivity that serves us so well in counseling others also can make us especially and dangerously susceptible to personal discouragement as well.  In order to preserve ourselves from the unbridled and vicious criticism of the outside world, we remain silent, and so, safe.

Criticism from the Inside

How I wish that the criticism was just limited to those outside of the church!  But the brutal reality is that many pastors live in mortal fear of criticism not from outside, but from within the church.  Too many congregations are lavish with their critique for pastors, but stingy when it comes to encouragement.  They freely let the barbs fly, but not blessings.  I can’t even begin to count the number of friends I have in ministry who have burned out because of harsh criticism from fellows Believers who were, ostensibly, supposed to be leaders of their church.  Personally, the criticism that I have received from outside the church is nothing compared to the vicious attacks I have received from people within.  Pastors often don’t speak out because we are, for lack of a better word, traumatized.  We are petrified that if we say something incisive, someone will approach us after the service and unleash a potent but often inaccurate broadside of criticism at us, or that a small group of influential people will unjustly call for our ouster, or even a governing board might fire us.  These fears are not unwarranted nor unprecedented, trust me.

It is important that congregations own up to their role in this dynamic, that a spirit of hyper-criticism in church is muzzling its leaders.  Listen, if you want your leader to be intrepid, then support them, pray for them, stand by them in the tempest, even if you don’t always fully agree with them.  But if you spend most of your time cutting down your leaders and talking behind their back (or even right to their face), then you shouldn’t somehow expect them to stand up and to speak out on the most pressing issues of this day.  That’s ridiculous, because unbridled and unedifying criticism doesn’t make courage more likely, but far, far less.

Cowardice

So are pastors irrelevant cowards?  The answer is: yes, often times.  After everything that I’ve shared, the fact still remains that we pastors often lack the courage to stand up and to be heard, and potentially to be hated as a result.  Our silence is a subtle tool used preserve our egos and standing before people.  This is often the case for me, and I repent for it.  I am laughably weak, even if the faith that I represent is not.  But there is one thing that would help me tremendously, and that is the support of my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ.  If I could count on the church to stand by me, then you can count on me to stand up and speak.

But I do feel the need to make a parallel point perfectly clear: that diversity cannot always be photographed.

You see, in the United States, we have over-simplified the discussion on diversity to be limited to race, usually the interactions between blacks and whites. And the church has largely adopted this narrative for themselves. In this binary context, a church has diversity if it has a lot of people of different skin colors, hopefully all in equal proportions: equal parts white, black, asian, and latino. That’s a diverse church. And to be sure, this is an important reflection of diversity, especially in the United States.

But to be frank, racial diversity is hardly the only kind of diversity that can exist in the church. For instance, there is generational diversity, where people of different ages and generations come together. This might not seem like that big of a deal, but there are substantial cultural, moral and theological differences between generations of people, particularly immigrants who were raised overseas, but have children who were born in the West. There is linguistic diversity, where people of different primary languages are in community, and anyone who has operated in a bilingual setting knows that this is not easy to do. There is national diversity, where two people may look physically identical, but are from totally different countries with totally different histories. Truthfully, two people can look racially identical and have very deep differences on a national or historical level, as is the case with people from China and Taiwan, Eritrea and Ethiopia, etc. There is theological diversity too, although this is not a big deal because as any church leader would tell you, theological differences have never led to the split of a church. There is also socio-economic diversity. These are all important aspects of diversity that reflect the multi-faceted nature of the kingdom of God, and take a great deal of effort to foster and maintain.

But the problem is that these kinds of diversity cannot be ascertained in a moment, with a quick glance over a congregation on a Sunday morning. These kinds of diversity cannot be photographed and displayed proudly for the world to see: look how diverse my church is! Look how multi-racial my small group is! These kinds of diversity are no less important, no less daunting to address, but receive little to no recognition in the American evangelical world because we continue to doggedly view diversity as an oversimplified and binary discussion about race, and nothing more.

What is truly troubling about this situation is that evangelicals who trumpet multi-ethnic ministry often do so not realizing that they are implicitly trampling on other churches that do not fit their narrow and artificial model of diversity. They make grandiose statements like “mono-ethnic churches will not be taken seriously”, or “segregated churches lead to segregated lives”. I know they mean well and are trying to push the discussion on race in the church forward, and sometimes we have to make such claims. Heck, I may have said such things as well. But tell me, what do such statements say to a church that may be comprised largely of a single race, but possesses brilliant levels of diversity on other, more subtle levels? What if there is a church where everyone is white, but there is broad socio-economic diversity, the poor and rich worshiping Christ in unity? What if there is a church where everyone is Asian, but representing 30 countries? And what if some of those Asians are not supposed to get along with each other? So these churches are not to be taken seriously? Their efforts not AS meaningful? And what if there is a church where there are equal proportions of people from all races…but no chronological diversity, or socio-economic diversity? Does their racial diversity somehow eclipse the homogeneity in the rest of their community? In a desire to be outspoken, many evangelicals are perpetuating the narrow narrative of diversity, and unconsciously dismissing the wonderful work of others in their family of faith.

Again, I say all of this as a HUGE fan of diversity, a Korean pastor who both lives and works in neighborhoods that are overwhelmingly African American. So please don’t misconstrue my statements as a call for churches to be racially or ethnically segregated. That would be unfair, and totally inconsistent with how I and my family live every day. But I am calling on evangelicals to recognize that diversity is not simply about race, and cannot always be photographed. We should celebrate diversity in ALL its forms, not simply in the forms that are easiest to show off to others. If you are working for greater racial diversity in the Body of Christ, thank God for you, truly! I’d like to think of myself as a co-laborer to that end. But in your efforts, don’t minimize the work of other communities that are toiling for diversity in its more subtle forms. That’s not fair to them.