Even as we are called to fight the good fight, Christ’s constant invitation to us is to surrender, to rest, and to be still.
By Grace Liu
I
broke down in tears many times this past week following the Atlanta massacre.
I’ve cried for the lives lost and the families devastated. I’ve cried for the ignorance, fear, and hatred that have hurt so many Asians and Asian Americans during the pandemic, and that it took a massacre to attract our nation’s attention. I’ve cried for the marginalization of people of color, for the objectification of women, for our country’s continual erasure of our experiences and histories, and justification for evil and injustice. I’ve cried for the defamation of the Lord’s name and the compromised witness of the Church. I’ve also cried because I realized how easy it is for me to neglect the pain and suffering of others until it affects my own community.
As friends texted and called to ask how I was doing, it was difficult to put these thoughts and emotions into words.
Dr. Michelle Ami Reyes wrote last week that we as Asian Americans, along with other minority communities, must work to end our own oppression. Of course, we are called not to complacency and passivity but to active love and service. At the same time, as I’ve continued to educate others on the realities of race and racism and advocate for change, I’ve felt exhausted. How can I continue to work for justice and peace when my soul feels so weary and the tears won’t seem to stop?
As I reflected on this past week, I realized that much of the exhaustion I feel comes from believing that the pursuit of justice is merely work—I must work harder and longer to ensure that our voices will be heard and that progress will be made. There never seems to be enough time, enough resources, or enough energy to fight the incessant evils of racism and injustice.
This morning, though, as I sat before the Lord, I was reminded that even as we are called to fight the good fight (1 Tim. 6:12), Christ’s constant invitation to us is to surrender, to rest, and to be still (Ps. 55:22, Matt. 11:28, Ps. 46:10). In a culture that glorifies aggression and bravado, it can feel as if choosing surrender is a sign of weakness. But it’s only in our stillness before Christ where we find true strength. Apart from Him, we can do nothing (John 15:5)—no matter how much progress it seems we are making.
What does it look like to surrender to Christ, to cast our cares on the Lord (Ps. 55:22)? For me, it means running to Jesus before I run to news outlets and social media. It means loosening my grip on what I think needs to be done and how I think it should happen, walking instead in the counter-cultural ways of His Spirit through prayer and time in His word. It means believing in the power of His Church over the influence of government policies and social activism. And it means shutting off my computer and getting the sleep that I need—humbly acknowledging and trusting that though I am finite, my Father is not.
In the midst of suffering and injustice, we can resort to cynicism, despair, and bitterness toward those we feel have wronged and ignored us, or we can surrender these fears and feelings to the Lord and fill our hearts with the truth that the God of the universe sees and knows us, and that is enough. I don’t have to grasp for a seat at the table, because Christ has already secured my place at His heavenly one (John 14:3). I don’t have to worry that I’m not enough, because His power is made perfect in weakness (2 Cor. 12:9). I don’t have to fear the future, because the future is in His hands (Ps. 31:15).
As Asian American Christians, we must continue to raise our voices and collectively stand against injustice of any kind. Of course, there is much work to be done. But we must not forget that our work is merely a conduit of worship. And who is the aim of our worship? The One who is gentle and lowly, whose yoke is easy and burden is light (Matt. 11:29-30)—not because sin and evil are not present realities in this broken world, but because He carries these burdens for us, and because He has already secured our victory over them (1 Cor. 15:57).
It’s only when we recognize that in Christ, we have nothing to lose and nothing more to gain, that we can truly live and work from a place of hope, joy, and confidence.
So, I encourage you—keep fighting for justice, advocating for the marginalized, and serving others with love and compassion. But don’t miss Christ in the midst of it all. Turn to Him who alone can give rest for your soul. Fix your eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen (2 Cor. 4:18). For our Savior will return soon, and the unseen will become visible.
Until then, I eagerly await the day when, together with people of every tribe, tongue, and nation, I will fall in awe before my Savior, and every tear of anguish will give way to tears of joy.
Grace Liu serves as Projects Manager for AACC. She also works as Marketing Assistant at the Ethics & Religious Liberty Commission and is finishing her final year at Vanderbilt University studying Community Leadership & Development and Violin Performance.