Our place in God’s kingdom remains secure, and the story isn’t over yet.
By Roy Mong
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his year has been marked by death and darkness. Amidst heightened racism against the Black community and increased COVID-19-related racial violence against Asian Americans, I have desperately needed reminders that God cares. It’s been one of my deepest, most desperate questions during this Advent season: “Does God really care, and has he been paying attention to what’s been going on this year?”
When George Floyd was killed on May 25, my wife and I came to a quick but heavy agreement: “If we see something like that happen in front of us in our city, we have each other’s permission to do something about it, no matter what might happen to us.” That agreement sparked further intentional and thoughtful choices we’ve made to stand up and speak out against racism.
My white wife, who has taken on my Chinese last name, has bravely entered into conversations with her family from a small rural town in Texas. She faithfully held people in our community accountable to microaggressions they don’t realize they’re making, like asking who is the father of our biracial toddler. Together, we’ve discussed how we will intentionally disciple our daughters toward God’s heart for all the colors and ethnicities of the peoples of the world, and how we will shepherd them through the inevitable prejudices they will face.
I have experienced feelings of being “othered” by speaking up about racism and advocating for diversity at my church and in my workplace. I’ve been disciplined at length because my words and actions holding people accountable to justice and kindness made them uncomfortable. At the same time, those same people exonerated themselves with privileged remarks and attitudes. They claim that, since their intentions weren’t racist, they shouldn’t have to apologize for the impact of their words and actions.
On multiple occasions, I’ve asked myself, “Is this really worth it?” I could try to save myself some pain by not speaking up. Yet as a family that carries the last name Mong, pain will come anyways as an outsider of majority-culture America. There’s a sense that home still isn’t quite home. At times, wrestling with that has felt as weighty as the intense all-night tussle that Jacob had with the Lord himself.
There have been many times this year when I’ve come to my Father and sat, wondering, “Father, did you really intend to make me this way? Do you really care?” In those times, I’ve just sat quietly, content to find comfort that the Spirit’s intercession with wordless groans is more than enough when I haven’t known how to pray.
The Holy Spirit brought one particular scripture in Matthew to mind. When an individual came to Jesus and declared that he would follow him wherever he went, Jesus responded, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head” (Matt. 8:20, ESV). That incredible statement has been comforting for me this season as I meditate on how the King of Kings entered into this world at the right time and place. He was meant to have no place to lay his head.
Jesus was born in a food trough for horses and cattle because there was no place for him among men (Luke 2:7), yet the heavenly host was unconcerned and filled with joy (Luke 2:12-13). He was forced to flee for his life as a toddler to the country of his people’s former enslavement (Matt. 2:13), yet this was simply a fulfillment of one of his Father’s decrees (Matt. 2:15). He was raised in a no-good city that was the butt of jokes (John 1:46), and yet his identity remained true and secure (John 1:29, 49).
With an upbringing like that, I imagine that Jesus would have also struggled with wondering whether anybody cared. But the Father had not forgotten his beloved Son, nor had he made a mistake in how, where, and when he was born. God cared enough to enter our world in such a way that he can relate to and identify with our struggles and sorrows – in this year and this life.
I find hope this Advent season in knowing that you and I are meant to be here at this moment. I have confidence in knowing that, even in the midst of a difficult year, our places in his kingdom are secure and our lives are exactly what he has intended for them to be. You and I belong exactly where we are.
God has not made a mistake in his story. No single sentence communicates the whole page. No single chapter tells the whole story. In fact, every great story always requires something of us that is difficult and challenging. Have hope knowing that God truly cares and always gives us the ability to turn the page.
Photo by Soragrit Wongsa on Unsplash
Roy Mong is a leadership coach and writer. He believes that the good news should truly be good news to those who hear it and seeks to exemplify that in his coaching and writing. He lives in Dallas, TX, with his wife, daughter, and second daughter on the way. You can see more of his work on his website or follow him on Instagram and Twitter.