"Which Country Are You Rooting for?": Conversations about Race, Culture, and Faith with My Daughters During the Tokyo Olympics

By Dr. Paul Youngbin Kim

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love watching the Olympics. As a sports fan, watching the best athletes in the world compete at the highest level is more than enough of a reason to enjoy the Olympics. My wife Sarah and two children (Ally and Abby) are right there with me; caught up in the drama of it all and our eyes glued to the TV.

Beyond sports, this Tokyo Olympics has sparked important conversations and reflections about race, culture, citizenship, and faith in my immediate family, especially with my daughters Ally and Abby. These wide-ranging topics arise out of multiple hats I wear – father, psychologist, professor, Korean American, and Christian. And perhaps like many fathers, some of these conversations have stuck with my kids as intended (thank God for these moments in parenting), while others have resulted in a typical eye roll – "Are we talking about this again, daddy?" Furthermore, there are conversations that I have not yet had with my daughters, ones that I hope to bring up at the opportune moment in the near future. Here are some examples of these conversations.

There's the question, that I suspect, arises in many Korean American households during international sports competitions:

"Which team do you cheer for during the Olympics?"

Or similarly:

"If South Korea and the USA played each other, which team would you root for?"

Each response from my family is accompanied by a slightly different explanation. Ally, who is a dual citizen of Korea and the U.S., responds confidently that she roots for South Korea, citing her Korean citizenship as the reason. My younger daughter Abby, who is not a dual citizen, but a U.S. citizen, says she too roots for South Korea. Her reason? “South Korea is a smaller country.” My California born and raised Korean American wife feigns being offended by these responses and says that she will always root for the USA first in the Olympics, and South Korea second.

As a psychologist who studies ethnic and racial identity, I can't help but take this moment to converse with my family about what it means to be a citizen of a country (or countries, in Ally's case), and what it does not mean. I tell my daughters that there are multiple ways to be Korean American, whether it is through citizenship, or as psychologists typically define racial and ethnic identity, through things like a sense of belonging, commitment, affinity/pride, and so on. I continually share with my family that God has a purpose in connecting them to Korean and American culture, and we will continue to figure out this purpose. I tell them as Korean Americans, they will feel a certain allegiance to the U.S., but also there will be a type of emotional connection to South Korea which they may not be able to articulate. I tell them being Korean American does not make them less Korean, or for that matter, less American. I try to convey the important truth that these identities are a gift from God: not meant to be ignored, stereotyped, or minimized, but embraced, struggled with, and treasured. 

By this point of my soliloquy, my daughters are not interested and they go back to the TV Olympic broadcast, and I am banking on more opportunities to revisit this wonderful yet complicated topic of what it means to be Korean American.

We cheer for Suni Lee, the winner of gold in the women's gymnastics all-around event. My daughters quickly recognize the last name Lee, asking if Suni is Korean. I say no, she is actually Hmong American. This also becomes an opportunity to discuss Pan-Asian ethnic identity in the U.S. context. I explain that there is much heterogeneity within the Asian American community – Lee is not just a Korean last name – rather there is much that is shared among Asian cultures from cultural values, traditions, and experiences of contemporary forms of racism and stereotyping. I explain this is why we as Korean Americans can share a special feeling of pride and celebration of Suni Lee winning gold. At the same time, we recognize the different Asian story that Suni Lee and her family and community are a part of.

This is complicated. I am not sure my kids fully grasp it. But I will continue talking to them about it, as I myself also grapple with my own Asian identity. Nonetheless, there are things I would still like to talk about with my daughters. I am waiting for the right moment. Hopefully before the Olympics wrap up.

I would like to talk to them about the South Korean athlete An San, who owns three gold medals in archery in the Tokyo Olympics. My family wooed and aahed as we watched this gifted athlete shoot 10s after 10s so effortlessly. Instead of celebrating the monumental accomplishment of this gifted athlete, some in the Korean online community have criticized her short hair. I have not yet found the right moment to talk to my daughters about this ridiculous response, but if I did, I would point to it as yet another way in which sexism and male hypocrisy manifest. A world where a man who wears their hair longer than the typical male – like their own father – does not get treated the same way a woman with shorter hair than the typical female does. That female athletes at the top of their game still have to deal with this type of oppression. That female athletes who make a stance to protest against objectification of their bodies by wearing a nonstandard outfit get fined. I hope to teach my daughters that these injustices against women grieve the very heart of God, and they are sins that both individually and collectively as a society, including the Christian community, must repent of. 

I would also like to process masks, vaccines, and all the cultural and political elements tethered to these topics. While watching the Olympics on TV, my children wondered out loud about the contrast between the footage from Tokyo where athletes are handed masks to put on immediately after their event is over, and the footage of family members cheering for them back in the U.S. where virtually no one wears a mask and people are crammed into a single indoor space. When I have a chance, I want to talk to my daughters about values such as personal freedom, interdependence, and communal living, and how the very thing that makes America, America – radical individual freedom – also has an ugly side in which year two into the pandemic, we are still divided over the issue of putting on a simple cloth over our mouth to protect others and ourselves. The visibility of the strict masking requirement during the Olympics is an opportunity to tell my children about how masking is a pre-pandemic societal norm in Asia, including Japan, and how it is widely accepted as a practice and symbol of concern for others. I will tell them that both collectivism and individualism as cultural frameworks have redeeming qualities and yet potential pitfalls. In the case of masking, radical application of individualism makes it much more difficult to put this pandemic behind us. In all of these conversations, I hope to also teach my children the larger principle that it is permissible to call out the sins and shortcomings of America; that it does not mean you are less American, or that you love America less, but rather you are continuing to engage in the truth telling of naming sins leading to repentance.

I know that there are/will be many other opportunities to connect race, culture, and faith in my conversations with my children. But this Tokyo Olympics has inspired many dialogues and permutations of dialogues with my children, and have triggered ideas about many more, and I am thankful to God for these important connections.

Photo by Bryan Turner on Unsplash

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Paul Youngbin Kim, Ph.D., is a Professor of Psychology at Seattle Pacific University.

Help India Breathe

By AACC

Note from Vice President, Michelle Ami Reyes: As Covid continues to ravage India, I have been in touch with friends and local missionaries, asking them how they are doing and how we can support them right now. The following is a message from a family in India, who founded a medical clinic to serve Dalits. Due to confidentiality needs, their names and the name of their organization can’t be shared. But their update gives real concrete ways for how to pray for India right now along with a tangible way to donate and financially support those working on the ground there. I hope you will consider supporting their work and praying for the people they are serving right now.

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e have started a COVID team to help manage a mountainous load. A team of six doctors and four people working sometimes around the clock on logistics. This includes getting hard to find medicines, hard to find pulse oximeters, hard to find oxygen tubing, coordinating ambulances, burial and cremation ground, food delivery services, home nursing services, getting plasma, and finding hospital with beds (oxygen, bipap machines, and ventilators) when admission is required. Some days our days start with phone calls at 6 am and ends around 1 am. We’ve spent a few hours training these doctors, getting them up to par with Covid treatment standards and then put them to work. We have more then 60 patients on our list in less than 72 hours since we started, some serious, some mild, but all getting care with everyone working together. About 20% need close monitoring with labs, meds, oxygen, etc., the others are managing well on fever control and rest. Serious and moderate patients are taking a lot of energy and time to manage, having the additional support is vital for them. This virus is serious this time around so everyone is on their toes! Phone calls every day, text messages every 5 minutes, but it's working! Thanks for praying!

We have beyond our team, a host of other volunteers on the ground running around getting all types of supplies, talking to pharmacies, making phone calls, and a dedicated prayer team of 30 people from all walks of life. To make matters more complicated, our state declared lockdown two days ago. Business hours are available 6 am to 10 am only. Rest of the day, no movement is allowed for at least the next ten days. Despite these circumstances, our team and volunteers are rising above the challenges and finding creative ways to make things work. People are stepping forward to give of their time, money, and energy.

Many of you have asked how you can contribute to us and help from abroad. We have some very practical ways you can do that. We have been buying oxygen concentrators to give to patients after discharge from hospital or going to hospital (as many of them have run out) and when they need it at home for treatment. We are sending a number of them to mission hospitals in rural parts of India in Maharastra, Chattisgarh and Orissa. One of our previous partners has procured hospital grade concentrators from Thailand that we are super excited about sending to these Covid wards in different parts of India.

How can you help? 
Professionals International is partnering with us to raise the funds: donation for covid relief India

This is a tax deductible donation. Each concentrator costs around $1100 to $1400 depending on the concentrator, ambulances are $5 a minute, which is incredible, and medicines are now getting expensive with low supply high demand situations. We are supporting several hospitals with supplies and all our pts with medicines, labs, and other supplies, including thousands of N95 masks, oxygen tubing, nebulizer machines, IV cannulas, hospital tape, and other supplies.

Thank you to everyone for your care and concern. We have received a huge volume of emails and messages from so many of you! It really encourages us to know that others in other parts of the world are praying too! Thank you!

Photo by Alexander Aashiesh on Unsplash

We Need More Intentional Racial Socialization Efforts in Korean American Churches

By Paul Youngbin Kim

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his piece is challenging to write. The Korean American church has been given me so much that it seems like a betrayal to point out some of the ways that it might fall short. As a Korean, I was socialized into a cultural value of not saying anything that could reflect badly on the ingroup, which includes my Korean American church community.

But here it is: I wish my Korean American church could do race conversations better.

The days and weeks following the Atlanta massacre that killed 8 people, including 6 Asian women, have been filled with much grieving, anger, and fear for the Asian and Asian American community. Non-Asian communities, including Christian churches, expressed solidarity for our community and denounced the evils of racism, xenophobia, and misogyny. This feels like a watershed moment in our country, when the previously dismissed or minimized experiences of Asians have been at the forefront of our conversations, including in church conversations. My Korean American church, and the several other Korean American churches that I know, have taken the time to lament and to engage in activism in response to the increase in anti-Asian racism during the COVID-19 pandemic.

But while I am moved by the strong response from my church and the advocacy of Korean American Christians around me, I am simultaneously grieved by some of the sentiments expressed by members of my Korean church community following the Atlanta shootings, viewpoints that reflect internalized model minority stereotype and racial color-blindness. Some examples of these perspectives include assertions that the media is doing more harm than good by reporting on anti-Asian racism; qualifications of Asian American experiences against the experiences of Black folks; arguments that there is no need for us to live in fear. And many more along the same lines of minimization and dismissal of anti-Asian racism.

Of course, I have heard these expressed by non-Asians too. But when thoughts reflecting internalized model minority stereotype and racial color-blindness are expressed by my Korean siblings in Christ, the statements cut that much deeper. I have observed this type of wounding in the last few weeks in my network of Korean Christians; some have been quite vocal about their skepticism of the validity of Asian experiences of racism, and this messaging has further injured those who are already in pain, especially the women in my community. For those who are already hurting, witnessing internalized racism among ingroup members can be a re-traumatizing experience.

Why are we in the Korean Christian community so disjointed in our views on racism? This is a complicated question that likely has different answers, but as a psychologist, I contend that one possibility is that many of us in the Korean American Christian community have not experienced effective racial socialization throughout our lifetime.

In my field of multicultural psychology, racial socialization refers to caregivers (e.g., a parent) intentionally teaching their child about race. Sometimes, this is referred to as “the talk” between a parent and their child. The general idea is that there is a purposeful teaching of the child about their racial identity and how to respond if others treat them differently based on race.

Many in my Korean church community, including myself, have not experienced meaningful racial socialization under our parents. Sure, we learned to appreciate Korean culture by learning the language, watching Korean shows, eating Korean food, and learning about Korean history. But the other critical dimension of racial socialization – intentional conversations about racism – was lacking. The few times I solicited my parents’ advice for coping with racial harassment that I experienced, the responses I got were along the lines of “Prove them wrong by working hard” or “Show them your Taekwondo kick so that they will not bother you anymore.” Suffice to say, neither of those options have proven effective for me to fight against racism.

To be clear, I do not blame my parents, or any of the immigrant parents of my fellow Korean churchgoers. They were so busy trying to survive in a foreign country, that they believed that the biggest lesson they could teach us was assimilation.   

But I am struck by the real possibility that my Korean church community is filled with individuals like me who have not had intentional racial socialization in their lives. Some of us have been fortunate to receive racial socialization in other ways, but others in my community have been able to navigate life in the U.S. without these conversations.  

Given this reality, how can Korean American churches help counter these tendencies?  

I contend that the Korean American church can provide a corrective experience for its congregants by engaging in deliberate racial socialization as a community. Racial socialization efforts are usually discussed at the individual level, but there are lessons that can be extended to a collective level of the Korean church setting. Here are a few key principles underlying racial socialization can inform Korean churches’ efforts. Note that these are not necessarily concrete steps to take, as each Korean American church might look different in what might constitute effective socialization; instead, I identify key principles to keep in mind for church leaders, based on what I know of why racial socialization is effective:  

1. Racial socialization is not only about affinity for one’s heritage. My Korean church community loves Korean culture, whether it is food, strong sense of interdependence, K-pop, and K-drama. But liking Korean culture and feeling good about being Korean are not sufficient to provide protection against the harmful effects of racism. Rather, effective racial socialization should involve also intentional reflecting, repenting, and teaching on the topic of racism and related issues.  Think about the mother engaging in “the talk” with their child; not only is the mother focused on instilling a sense of appreciation for their culture, but she is also intentional in naming racism and describing concrete ways to fight against them.

2.   Racial socialization is primarily focused on preparation. Yes, the solidarity and advocacy in response to anti-Asian racism are also important. But equally critical is the regular practice of dialoguing about racism within the faith community. Too many times, racial conversations in Korean churches are treated as peripheral to Christian faith, and attention is given only after tragedies, such as the Atlanta shootings. Changing our practices as a faith community to more frequently converse about race under the umbrella of Christian faith can help to better equip us to respond to racism directed toward our community.

3.  Racial socialization is usually initiated by someone who is of higher status and more experienced. Again, think about the mother talking to her child. The more experienced authority figure (mother) is providing concrete guidance to the less experienced (child). Translated to the church setting, this means that church leadership should be at the front of the conversations about racism. It also means that church leadership, including small group leaders, should seek out training to provide helpful and not hurtful guidance when ministering people about racism. Given that many of the microaggressive statements happen within smaller settings such as community groups, it seems especially important that small group leaders are sufficiently trained to initiate and process conversations around race.

Perhaps the word that best encapsulates all of these thoughts is intentionality. I pray that Christian leaders serving Korean American communities will practice intentionality in engaging the topic of racism, so that we can continue to be transformed into a loving, compassionate, and justice-seeking community that we are called to as believers.

Photo by Kevin Pire on Unsplash

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Paul Youngbin Kim, Ph.D., is a Professor of Psychology and Associate Dean for DEI in the School of Psychology, Family, and Community at Seattle Pacific University. As a counseling psychologist, Paul has written extensively about Asian and Asian American experiences and how religion might intersect with these experiences, such as attitudes toward seeking professional psychological help, racial microaggressions, and model minority stereotype. He recently wrote a piece on anti-Asian racism that was published in The Seattle Times.

You can find his faculty profile here: https://spu.edu/academics/school-of-psychology-family-community/faculty-and-staff/paul-youngbin-kim-profile

From a Moment to a Movement: National Rally to Stand for AAPI Lives and Dignity

By Raymond Chang and Jessica Min Chang

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hroughout history, tragic moments rooted in systemic injustices have at times sparked major movements, leading to widespread illumination and social change.

From Rosa Parks’ arrest and the Civil Rights movement to the death of George Floyd following the murders of Trayvon Martin, Botham Jean, Tamir Rice, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and many others leading to the Black Lives Matter movement, moments emerging from long histories of systemic ills have often catalyzed a new or resurging movement toward societal progress. 

On March 16, 2021, a white man professing to be Christian took out his frustrations with sexual temptation against Asian women, murdering six Asian American women as well as two more people. Situated in a period of overt anti-Asian hate and violence from the scapegoating of Asians during the COVID-19 pandemic, the Atlanta shootings seem to be the tragic moment and tipping point through which many Asian Americans are rising to declare that enough is enough. We must refuse to live in fear and should not wait for permission to proclaim that we belong. 

As the shootings devastated the families and friends of the loved ones who were killed, the shocking incident also unlocked the deep collective trauma that the broader Asian American community had suppressed for too long. 

In reflecting upon this, Jessica expressed that for some of us, it is perhaps the first time we feel we’ve been allowed to be sad and angry about the anti-Asian racism we have endured throughout the centuries of Asian American history. I (Raymond) witnessed this reality firsthand among the Asian American students I serve as a campus minister at Wheaton College. I also walked through this experience with friends, family, and numerous others across the nation reeling as they searched for guidance in processing and finding a way forward. Moreover, the shootings released the tears I, too, had held back throughout my decades of surviving and persisting as a perceived foreigner born in this country. 

A Statement from Asian American Christian Collaborative

In response to the shootings, we wrote a “Statement on the Atlanta Massacre” to take a collective stand against the anti-Asian American hate. This statement garnered nearly 4,000 signatures in the first two weeks and is still available to sign and share. 

Then, in a conversation with Atlanta-area pastors, it was clear that some in the Asian American Christian community in Atlanta wanted to facilitate a response. At their invitation, I participated in a call with other leaders in the Atlanta area that had already been scheduled, offering to provide support wherever they might find helpful. At the end of the call, we agreed to move forward with a March 28th date to initiate a gathering. 

As we started to share about what might take place in Atlanta, leaders in other cities began to reach out or agree to facilitate a gathering at the same time as the Atlanta event. The momentum developed rapidly in the course of a week as our gathering in Atlanta grew into prayer rallies, marches, and events in Chicago, Los Angeles, New York City, San Francisco, Houston, Maryland, Washington, D.C., Detroit, Seattle, Austin, Dallas, Boston, and Minneapolis.

Standing Together on Palm Sunday 2021

On Palm Sunday, March 28, 2021, around 5,000 Asian American Christians and friends of our communities convened in the 14 different cities across the country at 4pm EST. We met to mourn the eight lives taken in the Atlanta-area shootings. We rallied to proclaim that these lives deserved to be regarded with respect and that they mattered simply because they were. Together, we stood against the anti-Asian racism that has spanned the centuries of Asian American history and resisted its perpetuation into our reality today. 

This was a new moment in the history of the Asian American church.

As Asian American women and men organized, planned, gathered, shared, prayed, worshipped, and sought unity, the rallies became spaces where people could express lament, as well as experience hope, before God and with others. It was encouraging to hear about the ways that many people, in particular Asian American women, shared that they could express the grief, anger, and deep pain they had held within their bodies for so long. Asian American men also publicly acknowledged the ways they had failed to address – and even perpetuated – misogyny, chauvinism, and mistreatment against sisters in the body of Christ. 

AACC Vice President Michelle Ami Reyes and we participated in the Atlanta rally. Michelle offered a moving overview of anti-Asian hate and violence throughout history. Many powerful speakers from the Atlanta area shared, including Andrea Cole, Irene Wong, Sam Kang, Jennifer Fero, David Park, and Peter Lim. Hannah An led us in worship. Latasha Morrison of Be The Bridge and Justin Giboney of AND Campaign, who have been friends of AACC from our inception, also participated in the program as a demonstration of solidarity.

Personally, for me (Raymond), the most powerful moment was having the privilege of sharing the stage with my wife Jessica. As her husband, it was profoundly moving to listen to her share with passionate conviction the ways that God has seen the many experiences of many Asian American women, as well as Asian Americans more broadly, and the ways in which we can move forward together. As with many of the other rallies, we concluded our time with the hope that the Asian American Christian community would more actively exercise our voices for the sake of the church and society. 

As we dared to feel a glimmer of hopefulness, news broke the next day about a 65-year-old Asian American woman who was assaulted by an attacker as he yelled, “F*** you! You don’t belong here,” while stomping her head multiple times. We also witnessed three people, including a security guard, watch idly from inside a building and then close the door on her as she crawled to safety instead of immediately intervening. To make a devastating incident even worse, it had occurred in the same city where one of our rallies took place.

Our hearts sank. 

Soon after, we saw the news of the Sikhs – a population of Asians who have faced significant discrimination and racism in the United States – who were killed in the Indianapolis shootings.

We had hoped that the statement AACC released in 2020 would have helped to curb some of the violence we anticipated would rise due to anti-Asian sentiments in the midst of the pandemic. We also hoped the many articles, podcasts, and resources AACC developed would help people to grow in awareness and understanding around racism directed towards Asian Americans – a racism that people often fail to acknowledge because it doesn’t fit within the Black-White binary paradigm. As we see the violence continuing to occur, it’s clear that there is a lot more work to do. 

It is good to pause and praise God for what we saw on March 28, 2021, as Asian American Christians and churches throughout the country responded to the Atlanta area shootings. And it is important to note that this event has been in tandem with the efforts many are making across the country and world right now; we are not alone in this endeavor. However, we must continue the work to generate a movement for the sake of facilitating a kingdom reality that celebrates Asian American lives and dignity to the fullest extent. 

The National Rally for AAPI Lives and Dignity should serve as a spark for more intentionality, prayerful activism, and thoughtful engagement as we move forward.

In addition to the AACC National Calls to Action shared at the recent rallies, Asian American Christians ought to do four things as we move forward:

• Engage in advocacy and activism that disrupt patterns of excluding or aggressing against Asian Americans and constructively cultivates Asian American Christian presence including through civic, political, and public engagement.

• Deepen local involvement and partnership with Christian as well as non-Christian groups for the sake of the common good.

• Cultivate galvanizing momentum online by posting and sharing resources, events, and other opportunities for shared growth.

• Continue leading with prayer and working together to strengthen our collective voice.

IT’S JUST TO LOVE OUR NEIGHBORS

The work of pursuing justice is an arduous and often unseen work. Yes, it certainly occurs when we organize and rally – and we certainly need to continue to do so. However, this is just one of the many ways we work to promote justice. Justice is enacted in the many sacred conversations and support efforts with individuals who have been crushed by unjust systems and structures. Justice is pursued as we dismantle bigotry within ourselves (Rom. 12), sacrifice our privileges (Phil. 2), work in solidarity with those who are marginalized and oppressed (Micah 6:8), and seek to live grounded in love and truth (Eph. 4:15). We can also advance justice by doing the slow and long work of discipling people into all of God’s truth, in love, so that they might more fully embody the kingdom of God in this world.

The National Rally to Stand for AAPI Lives and Dignity was a meaningful shared moment in the midst of tragedy. But as Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. raised many decades ago, we must consider the question of, “Where will we go from here?” We invite you to partner with us at AACC so we can help transform this moment into a movement that honors God and those whom God calls our neighbors. 

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Pastor Raymond Chang is the president of the Asian American Christian Collaborative, a pastor, and writer. He regularly preaches God’s Word and speaks throughout the country on issues pertaining to Christianity and culture, race and faith. He has lived throughout the world (Korea, Guatemala, Panama, Spain, China), traveled to nearly 50 countries, and currently lives in Chicagoland, serving as a campus minister at Wheaton College. He is currently pursuing his PhD. He is married to Jessica Chang, who serves as the chief advancement and partnerships officer of the Field School.

Embracing Otherness

By Naomi K. Lu

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he COVID-19 pandemic has left a devastating impact on millions of lives around the world. Though the most devastating losses of a pandemic will always be the lives extinguished and the suffering of those left behind, this pandemic has also cost people everything from graduations and weddings, to homes and jobs. Though I was not spared from different, more tangible losses, the most impactful loss for me was the destruction of an idea. Because of COVID-19, I lost the American Dream.

As a third-culture kid, America was truly the land of dreams. In Mandarin, America literally translates as “beautiful country.” Despite being thousands of miles away, the third culture kids in the community where I grew up strongly identified with whatever country was listed on their passports. I vividly remember a youth retreat where the ice breaker was to divide up by country and cheer as loudly as possible for your motherland; Americans were by far the loudest, rivaled only by the Texans (they separated themselves) and the six Australians whose rousing cries of “AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE! OI OI OI!” managed to be heard despite the thundering roar of American cries. American patriotism was alive and well in our communities overseas, even though many of us had spent far more years in our host countries than back “home.”

Our lack of awareness as to the realities of what life in America looked like frequently resulted in massive disappointment and disillusionment upon returning to the States. Those who return either love it or hate it; I rarely meet individuals who fall between these polar opposites. To many, the American Dream goes as follows: Nice house, nice job, nice spouse, nice kids, with a white picket fence to tie it all together.

For me, this Dream was very different for a young, mixed-race, Chinese American growing up in Asia. I thought about America constantly. America was Cheetos and Reese’s peanut butter cups; rolling meadows of lush green grass, sunsets of pink, gold, and purple, and the flitting of fireflies at dusk on a warm summer’s eve. As a lonely child who didn’t fit in, America was a place of belonging and freedom. The greatest country on earth, where anyone could be anything. Where all were welcome. Where there would be a place for me. America was hope.

And then I returned.

The culture shock, isolation, and the identity crisis of moving from the only country I’d ever known were to be expected. However, I was completely unprepared for the kind of otherness I’d feel as an Asian American. I took pride in my status as a foreigner in the country I grew up in. I had no idea I was even more of a foreigner in the country of my birth. Never mind that my grandmother was white; she was the daughter of West Virginian coal miners, in this country so long that I don’t even know when she immigrated. My own confrontation with race took much longer than expected.

In high school, I was barely phased when someone told me they didn’t think I could speak English when we first met. Internally, I could justify these comments because I happened to be an Asian American raised in Asia. I suspect I would have understood racism, stereotypes, and microaggressions far earlier had I actually grown up in the United States. There would have been no excuses for such behavior, and I would have had to face the reality that one look at my face was all it took for people to think that they knew me.

There was no singular moment of racial reckoning for me. Just as a storm gives away its presence by a darkening sky and a strange smell that lingers in the air, the quiet dissatisfaction rumbling within me built over years. It was only after COVID-19 began spreading with a swift and deadly force that I was forced to open my eyes to a country that continues to view me—and my people—as “other.” Shock, followed by fear, spread through me as the most powerful man in the United States referred to the novel coronavirus as the “Chinese flu” and the “Kung flu.” Before COVID-19, I was used to being stared at by people, typically when I traveled outside of major U.S. cities, but I dismissed their gaze as simple curiosity. Now, every look from a stranger left a sense of unease that caused me to look over my shoulder constantly. Was I in danger too? My fears were not unfounded, the rise in hate crimes against Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders proves as much.

I was left to grieve the loss of an idea. The country I longed and hoped for as a child did not exist. My identity as an outsider would not have changed even if I had grown up here. I am torn between two worlds, yearning for somewhere, anywhere, to belong.

What remains after 2020 resembles the path of a tornado. Destruction is rampant, especially here in the United States. But 2020 was not purely a year of extremely bad fortune. It was a year where the dark underbelly of the United States was finally visible to the light. Division and prejudice are nothing new; 2020 just happened to be the year when inequality was made visible in such a way that the only way to ignore it would be to live as a hermit with no technology. Just because the America that I lost never existed does not lessen the pain of grief. I mourn, I accept, and I move forward.

 There is something holy in otherness. A lack of belonging in this world directs our gaze home—where our true selves are wholly accepted and perfectly loved. We yearn for what we do not have, and as Christians we have hope that what is to come is incomparably greater than anything we could presently possess. I have found freedom in this place. My life no longer needs to be dedicated to forcing myself into a box that was not made for me. The borders of my universe have infinitely expanded. My sense of purpose has been refined through this year, and I am constantly in awe of how God uses the darkest things to bring light.

This is not to downplay how detrimental and fundamentally wrong racism is, or to glorify injustice and suffering. It is also not meant to cover grief with toxic positivity. Though I believe that God can bring purpose to any kind of pain, that does not serve to minimize the significance of pain’s impact. An awareness and acceptance of otherness does not mean that we should stop fighting for equality and equity. For me, the reality of otherness brings me peace, as I no longer blame myself for my lack of belonging.

I think it will take time before I am fully aware of the impact that COVID-19 had on my life. For me, 2020 became a year of silence—a journey through solitude by an unwilling pilgrim. Though initially the isolation seemed like it would break me, it has proven to be one of the most fruitful periods of my life. Only in this quiet place was I able to fully confront my otherness. The lessons I have learned and the growth that I have experienced during this time will shape the rest of my life. I have a newfound boldness in speaking out about these issues of race and discrimination, while also experiencing the humbling realization that there is still much I do not know. Dismantling beliefs I had about this country and my identity also served to heal some of the false beliefs I had about myself: I am not less than because I do not belong. Embracing otherness allowed me to embrace myself.

I believe in a future where Asian Americans are no longer seen as perpetual foreigners, and our voices are valued and heard; however, I also find that there is relief in accepting that this is not the present reality. From here, I rest, regroup, and look for my role in bringing that vision to fruition. Though the night continues, I can see glimpses of the dawn as I rest in the promises of the Creator. “He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end” (Ecclesiastes 3:11, NIV).

Photo by ahmadreza jaffari on Unsplash

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Naomi K. Lu is a Chinese-American Third Culture Kid who grew up in East Asia. She has her B.S. in Integrated Social Sciences and will be entering graduate school studying psychology in Fall 2021. She is passionate about Asian mental health, depression treatment, and suicide prevention. She currently lives in California with her dogs.

AACC Houston Prayer Rally Recap

By Phuong Marquez

I

will forever remember the feeling when the news first broke. My thoughts immediately went to my aunts and uncles that work in nail salons. I know them as my family, hard-working and extremely kind people. They work over twelve hours and still go home to cook family dinners and take care of their children. I wonder who could possibly have a heart to do such a thing, to go and kill in cold blood the women who are like my aunts: hardworking, kind, and family-oriented.

As time passed and more details came to light, I had to constantly tell myself to feel the emotions I was feeling: anger, because he was supposed to be a brother-in-Christ; sadness, in seeing members of our community attacked in such a way; and realization that I have lived with this reality for the past year and my whole life. Over the next couple of days, memories flooded back. Some when I was younger – a name was called. Some when I was an adolescent – a cat-call here, a look there. Some more recent – people looking at me with contempt and avoiding my path in the stores. There are countless more moments…

I remember the first time I realized that I might be in trouble when the “China Flu” and “Kung Flu” terms were coined, and a man changed his table in a hotel lobby in March of 2020 when I had coughed. Within a few weeks, I would hear the story of the family that was stabbed at a Sam’s Club in a city not too far from where I live in Houston. The story never made the local news. I would go to the Chinatown of my city, a place I frequented often as a child, and see how business dwindled and places I knew since childhood quickly closed doors or even had their windows smashed.

I go back to the events of Mar. 16, and I hear the police giving the statement saying that this killer had a “bad day” and that “he was at the end of his rope.” It made me angry. It was a moment that I could literally feel my skin. The next couple days after that, I went online, expressed my grief and sorrow with little response. It wasn’t until days later that I recalled my past experiences of racism and misogynistic abuse that people started reacting. Worse yet, I looked around at the local churches and didn’t see a statement. I noticed people who I consider anchors of the faith in my community stay silent on an issue that tore so deeply in my soul. And it hurt. I despaired in the world. I despaired in the church. 

There are no words I could say to fully describe the magnitude of this event in my life. I still come to tears remembering when I looked out into the room and saw so many faces, some that I identified with and some that I didn’t know carried all the emotions that I had felt. I sang songs; I prayed in my mother language albeit not well; and before I prayed, I introduced myself to a room full of brothers and sister in Christ as the first-born American in my family. To share an identity that I had borne with so much weight, anguish, and confusion through this time – and it be understood – was a feeling that was indescribably fulfilling to me. I heard different pastors preach to me: an Asian American pastor who addressed the inherent racist natures in us as someone who is married to an African American woman; a Caucasian Christian leader who expressed his grief and pain for coming from an establishment that had oppressed the minority groups present; and an African American pastor who was not afraid to point out the strife between our communities, but that together in love, we can rise above this.

All words I so desperately needed to hear, because those were truly all the struggles that I have faced my whole life. I am blessed to have Asian American sisters in Christ who I could talk to after the event, and sink in the peace of knowing that God is so mighty in this moment and through this opportunity. We were convicted, realizing that we didn’t need to wait for the church to respond. We can be the church wherever we are and speak up against these injustices happening in our world. I loved that there were fourteen cities that met at once; it was a great image of the church on Earth coming together to call on the name of Jesus. The images I chose to focus on after the rally were not of the killer, but of the people I knew in other cities that attended an AACC prayer rally.

The most beautiful part was that there were people of different backgrounds, skin colors, and ages all united in this movement. I want to thank you, AACC, for the courage and resilience to rise to this moment, and for giving us the ability and freedom to mobilize and speak our hearts and minds to each other, to the people who needed to hear this message, and most importantly to God. I know that there unfortunately will be more that needs to be done, but may we all rise to the moment when it comes to each of us. God bless and Godspeed.

First photo by Jason Leung on Unsplash

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My name is Phuong Marquez and I’m from Houston. I work with one of the collaborators, Julee Chang, for this event in Houston. We operate a small business bakery. I’m currently a Master’s student pursuing a degree in Curriculum & Instruction, and formerly was a teacher. I go to Neartown Church in Houston.

AACC Los Angeles Prayer Rally Recap

By Dustin Lang

P

rocess. Pray. Practice. Proclaim.

These were the four reasons that believers from the Asian American and Pacific Islander community gathered at the Los Angeles Call for Solidarity. If you looked out into the sea of 450 faces on March 28th, it would never cross your mind that this grassroots event was put together in six days.

In six days, numerous churches across Los Angeles and Orange County were mobilized. In six days, fifteen highly sought-after speakers and presenters joined the lineup. In six days, permits were acquired so that a mass gathering could be held at Seoul International Park in the heart of Koreatown. And in six days, all logistics—including banner and shirt printing, acquiring a portable stage, securing a thirteen-member volunteer team, and everything else it takes to hold a rally—were carried out.

It could be easy to attribute this outcome purely to sacrifice. After all, team members put in countless work hours to plan this out, attendees were willing to travel to Koreatown to sit in hot 87 degree weather for two hours, and speakers made time to prepare and deliver well-crafted presentations. NewStory Church, the host church of this event, even pushed its service time up two hours to accommodate for the rally.

But to attribute this outcome solely to human sacrifice would be short-sighted. Yes, Moses sacrificed his comfort to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. But it was God who parted the Red Sea. Yes, Paul sacrificed his physical safety to continue preaching the gospel. But it was God who kept him alive. Even ten of the eleven disciples sacrificed their very lives for Christ. But it was God who used their testimonies to radically transform our world.

The invisible but inevitable truth was that in the planning, behind the favorable outcomes, and over the course of the rally itself, the Spirit of God was at work.

God paved the way for hundreds of believers to gather in solidarity. God orchestrated events so that this day would be covered by KTLA, ABC, Fox, CGNTV, and the Associated Press so that millions would hear about the cause. And it was God who worked powerfully through each moment of the event.

The rally started with the praise song “Shout to the Lord” led by Pauline Park. The lyrics couldn’t have been more fitting as we declared that even “mountains bow down and the seas will roar” at the sound of Jesus’ name.

Heidi Kwon, Liturgist at Ekko Church, led us in a time of silent prayer. For eight minutes (one for each victim), we held the families and friends of the victims in the light of Christ. In this time of silence, the hearts of all attendees were knit together as we grieved in unison.

Rev. Tom Kang, lead pastor of NewStory Church, gave opening remarks. He reminded us of the purpose for our gathering: to stand for the lives and dignity of the AAPI community. When explaining in more detail his own personal involvement, he said, “I’m here standing on behalf of my immigrant parents because they just couldn’t. I’m also here for my three Asian American daughters in the hopes that one day they wouldn’t have to either.” This statement reminded us of a key value of Christianity and Asian American culture—that community matters. The rally wasn’t only for ourselves. It was also for our aunts, uncles, parents, grandparents, children, and future generations.

The next portion of the rally included four charges led by female Asian American Christian leaders Hyepin Im, Rev. Dr. Sharon Kim, Anh Lin, and Rev. Dr. Janette Ok. Each of these was followed by four corresponding prayers led by Rev. Guillermo Torres, Bishop Kenneth Ulmer, Jason Nettles, and Elder Anthony Davis.

Hyepin Im reminded us that the time for the AAPI community to be in the public spotlight had come. And though we were lamenting our current racism-filled reality, we could find hope knowing that God brings joy in the morning.

Rev. Dr. Sharon Kim discussed the three ways we find healing—through sharing our stories, forgiving others, and remembering our shared identity and mission in Christ.

Anh Lin called us to repentance on a personal level. This included turning away from both the sins of denying our God-given ethnicities and also idolizing them.

Rev. Dr. Janette Ok brought the perspective that declaring the dignity of AAPI lives is gospel work because Jesus restores all things—including our voices, our bodies, and our names.

In light of the Atlanta shooting, seeing four Asian American women filled with such boldness to speak on stage was a reminder that God was with us and would use all things for His glory.

Rev. Dr. David Kim shared a poem called “Heal Our Land.” Jason Chu, rapper and activist, also performed a song called “Honor” that was written to restore dignity to Asian people.

We then heard two remarks of solidarity from Controller Ron Galperin and Rev. Peter Watts, friends of the AAPI community.

Afterwards, Rev. Harold Kim read the seven action items of Asian American Christian Collaborative and reminded us that we are called to not only share the gospel but to show the gospel. Our time ended with the song “What a Beautiful Name” and a benediction from Rev. Tom Kang.

The hundreds who came, millions who saw, and countless lives that were impacted testified that God was with us.

This rally was a strong reminder of the words of Gamaliel in Acts 5, verses 38 and 39: “For if this plan or this undertaking is of man, it will fail; but if it is of God, you will not be able to overthrow them.”

God is with us. And we will not be overthrown.

Photos by Dave Kim

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Dustin Lang is happily married to the love of his life Jennifer. He leads the College and Young Adult Ministries of NewStory LA, a church in downtown Los Angeles. He is the Founder and Vision Caster for Revival LA, a movement to build gospel-centered culture in Los Angeles. Dustin enjoys teaching the Bible as well as writing and speaking about a diverse range of topics from urban ministry to ministry leadership.

What Now? What AAPI and Friends Can Do Post-Lament

By Sylvia Lee

"T

here’s a reason the majority of the Psalms are poems of lament, elegiac in their grief and despair. As we have seen, there is much to lament. But often, in these psalms, the grief gives way to some action: dancing, being joyful, meditating, remembering, finding peace. And so for us, after sitting shiva, grieving the systemic racism and misogyny ingrained in our institutions and our society, what ought we to do post-lament? Or perhaps more accurately, what can we do concurrently with the cycles of lament we find ourselves in? I’d like to offer three moves AAPI and allies can make in order for us to come closer to the vision of shalom so many of us hope for.

The first action is the hardest—it is to do a sober inventory of our values, and to interrogate our beliefs. In particular, how much of our belief systems have been informed by white male culture with values steeped in white supremacy? I don’t mean the obvious connotations you may associate with the term. I mean the benevolent type of white supremacy that would paint Jesus as a blond-haired, blue-eyed savior rather than the brown-skinned, Middle Eastern man he was. White supremacy is so subtly ingrained in our culture that even ethnic churches carry the competing aromas of Christ, with Christ the white savior.

Erna Kim Hackett, an Asian American woman pastor and founder of Liberated Together, writes that:

“Christianity is [also] preoccupied with the stories of white men. White pastors and their church plants. White male pastors and their books.  White male pastors and their conferences. White worship leaders and their songs. White theologians and their esoteric explorations. 

Every week the pulpit is the story that men want to tell about the world...When men are the ones doing all the Biblical interpretation, it’s all slanted one way.”

As Hackett suggests, added to the layers of whiteness permeating Christian culture is the deep sexism that is also ever-present in churches regardless of race/ethnicity. Much has been said about the Atlanta shooter being “radicalized” in the white evangelical church. But what if he was merely listening to these overwhelmingly male narratives that would separate women from their humanity and dignity and cast them as “sources of temptation?” Add to this the prevailing cultural narratives that cast Asian women as sexual objects, and how can anyone be surprised at the outcome? Asian women were not surprised; our whole lives we have remained silent because the dominant message has been to avoid shame and pursue “purity”. We’ve been told to “behave and dress modestly,” to “not be a snare”  or “distraction” for men, to be a paragon of virtue in order to cater to the caprice of male desire lest we find ourselves subject to male rage. 

If we were to re-center the stories told in church from the perspective of men (not just white men) to include more diverse perspectives, I wager we would see, emerging out of the woodwork, stories so nuanced, so specific, that we would gain a more complex understanding of the sly, inner workings of sin itself: how it feeds off of reductive attitudes, a hunger for control and power, and how it thrives on allegiance not to gospel, but to hierarchical power structures that clutch racist ideas in one hand and sexist ideas in the other to retain the status quo.

So how and where do we begin this work of re-centering ourselves to make room for marginalized voices? To re-center ourselves, we must clear the stations on our presets. We must actively seek out stories that do not come from the same voices we are used to hearing in white culture.

Ellicott City resident and award-winning author Chimamanda Adichie went viral for a Ted Talk she gave on “The Danger of a Single Story.” She talks about the limits of a single narrative in capturing the experiences of a varied African diaspora, and the same is true of Asians. As prevalent and damaging as Asian fetishization has been, it is not the ONLY story Asian women have. Cultural representations would have you believe otherwise, but this “single” story is a false narrative. In truth, the stories are diverse and emerging. If you attune yourself to look intentionally and to listen, you will see them. 

In literature, you will see poets like Fatimah Asghar writing about the generational trauma and duality of partition in India/Pakistan, how it divides the soul while reinforcing the unity of bloodline strangers. You will see writers like Jenny Zhang cutting open the Chinese American immigrant narrative by dropping us off at the intersection of race and class. You will see writers like Steph Cha, laying bare the real harm the Korean community has done to the Black community, through the eyes of women, and how the younger generation is reconciling these truths in their own stories by defying the lies of white supremacy. But you have to look, and you have to pay attention.

And after you have listened to these stories, take what you’ve witnessed and become a storyteller yourself. Start with your family. 

So many Asian Christians I speak with see it as a necessity to openly talk with their children about sex, pornography, and other traditionally “taboo” issues our parents never discussed, because of the way these issues lead to sin and harm. But rarely have I heard “racism” or “sexism” as one of the imperative topics that must be discussed because of their sinful nature. Too often, this is not an intentional conversation Asian parents (any parents) have with their own children, except to point out instances of attacks against them, and usually done by other POC. But what if we changed that for our own children? What if we showed them how to be proud of their Asian heritage while at the same time aware of the history that would pit us—a so-called “model minority”—against our oppressed friends? 

Similarly, if you are a second or third-generation Asian American, there is an imperative to challenge racist stereotypes in our own community. The writer Cathy Park Hong mentions in a recent interview in The Atlantic that older Asian immigrants may use the hate crimes perpetrated by Black people to reaffirm ideas of anti-Blackness. It is easier in some ways to talk about Asian hate crimes when the perpetrators are White. But when the perpetrators are other minorities, suddenly, communities of color are pitted against each other. But who is crafting the narrative here? When we attack each other, blame each other for the problems that white supremacist thinking has told us are a result of other minorities, then try to advocate for our own justice, we are, in the words of the Black feminist poet Audre Lorde, trying to “use the master’s tools to dismantle the master’s house,” and this only serves to weaken our power.

No. We must start telling another story. It is a story that moves beyond lament. A story that refuses to blame other oppressed communities for our pain, and starts seeing the deeply entangled root causes that give the sins of racism and sexism a stranglehold on our institutions, including our churches. For every story that would fetishize and therefore dehumanize Asian women, we must counter this with a story that bears witness to who we are: image bearers of the Almighty God, imbued with his power. So what story will we tell—to our friends, our family, our neighbors? And how will we know what to say if we do not interrogate our beliefs and seek out narratives that speak truth into our very existence? 

Importantly, as we take these next steps, and the headlines change to the Next Big Thing, remember that, in the words of the poet CP Cavafy, “the road is a long one... but don’t hurry the journey at all.” Each of these moves will take time. But it is in this deliberate process of carving out a new narrative that we finally move out of lament and into a true and lasting shalom in our communities and our areas of influence. Thank you.

This article was originally written for the Stand For AAPI Lives in Howard County, Maryland, March 28, 2021. Posted with permission from the author.

Photo by Kelly Lacy from Pexels

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Sylvia Lee serves as co-Chair and Associate Professor of English at Howard Community College. She has been published in The Korea Herald, Poets and Writers Magazine, and Lostwriters, among others, and currently co-hosts the recently launched podcast Bookish: A Casual Book Club through Dragon Digital Radio. She has served on the editorial boards for several literary magazines, including HCC’s community publication The Muse. She received her M.F.A. in Writing at Sarah Lawrence College and a B.A. in English from the University of Maryland at College Park.

The Church, Allyship, and Silence (AACC MN Rally Reflection)

By Kong Mong Yang

"I

'm going!" I said to my wife as I saw a tweet about the possibility of a rally coming to my state. I couldn't drive my family to Chicago, which was the closest confirmed state at the time. It just wasn't feasible. I saw city after city commit to being a base for this important conversation and I was envious that I couldn't be there in person. I figured the next best thing was to attend the virtual rally. Even though Zoom fatigue is real, thank goodness for technology.

Then, within a few hours, another tweet came that said Minneapolis was a confirmed rally site. I was ecstatic! I quickly posted on Facebook for those who wanted to join in to show up. You see, the reason for my joy (I'm not sure of another way to express this, as the reasons for this whole ordeal is rather heartbreaking) that a rally would be happening in Minnesota was because my Christian circle has been absolutely mute. Sadly, they've been mute about the various events prior to the Atlanta shooting. This silence, as I've grown to know unfortunately, consistently evades the hard questions about the relationship between the church and the world, minimizes the hurt and pain of those suffering, and ignores the church's role to be a light in a world full of darkness. This is where I sat. The silence grew and ate away at me. This is the context for why I'm able to call the Stand for AAPI Lives Rally “joyous.” Finally, I can see with my own eyes and hear with my ears Christian sisters and brothers that would speak up and speak boldly.

As the rally began, I looked around to see many allies. The cold wind kept us all bundled up and our masks obscured our faces, but these were allies through and through. I wish to have recorded all of the rally, but in that moment, I felt the place was sacred. I managed to take one lousy picture so as to timestamp my place in history. But, my resolve was to soak it all in and that I did. Leader after leader spoke about the injustices against AAPI lives. Osheta Moore’s speech hit me the most in the midst of the many powerful words spoken. She recalled that during her time of sorrow and hurt, she had Asian allies who stood beside her. George Floyd’s death was a breaking point for many, but those hurt the most were the Black community. She noted that her friend, Der Lor, would stand and take heat for simply being an ally. She stated that she would, in turn, be an ally for AAPI because people, like Der, stood up for her and her community. This was a true resolve to unite against the powers that divide us, not a simple transaction of goodwill. Dismantling these powers requires us to be allies. In fact, I’d like to believe that it requires us to be sisters and brothers.

When I reflect on this powerful illustration of allyship, I think of the church. Church people are to be people who stand with the poor, the broken, the ill-forgotten, and the outcasts. Church people are to stand for justice, for peacemaking, for a love that casts out fear and hate. Church people are to be the ultimate ally. I’m glad for the organizations and the churches that shouted, from all over the country, that AAPI hate is sinful and detestable. They model for us what caring for the hurt and downtrodden mean — to be the voice for those who are unable to speak.

I left the rally wondering, what will happen next? I went home feeling affirmation and pride, but also felt a glaring sense of disappointment. A few days after the Atlanta shooting, there was a Twitter poll conducted by Timothy Isaiah Cho that asked, “Today did your church mention anti-Asian racism and the Atlanta shooting?” 371 people responded and 53.9% responded “No.” In a similar Twitter poll by Raymond Chang, one that had 492 respondents, 45.9% reported “No” to addressing anti-Asian hate during church service that weekend. By no means are these scientific polls, but the point is rather clear. This disappointment that I noted earlier is front and center to many within the church. My church also falls into this category of “No.” No to discussions about George Floyd and the roles of race; No to discussions about anti-Asian hate crimes; No to the discussion about the church’s role in all of this. The church isn’t explicitly saying “No,” but the silence is a loud and clear “No.” Disappointment has led me to frustration.

If the church is to be the great ally of the oppressed, the church must call out against the injustices happening outside her doors. The church is supposed to be the overflow and abundance of justice, love, and mercy. These are not to be hoarded. The outpouring of goodness should invade the streets of the city. But it’s hard for this outpouring to occur when the church denies, with it’s silence, that life simply goes on or that nothing is to be said about the egregious acts of violence toward our sisters and brothers. Yes, silence is indeed a virtue. This is especially true of Asian cultures. What these rallies prove, however, is that silence is not always golden. No, silence in a time such as this, reveals the church’s lack of courage and conviction. Now is not a time for silence. Now is not the time for the church to be “too heavenly minded, and no earthly good.” The church is on full display for the world to see.

What the rallies across the States revealed to me is that the church, when united, can create change. I saw some amazing local churches creating inroads for a gospel message that not only worries about where one goes when one dies, but worries about how one is to be treated today, and tomorrow, and the days to come. I’m hoping not only for a “movement,” but a real reckoning on what the church is to be. When the church becomes what it was always meant to be — a glimpse of the coming kingdom, the abundance of justice, love, mercy, and peace — the world will be drawn to change. I’m hopeful that we’re drawing ever closer to that image because of the work of the Spirit. I’m also hopeful that my zeal to go to rallies will cease and in turn will become a zeal to attend church. “I’m going!” perhaps, is what I should be saying about attending church. Until then, it seems we still have much work to do.

Photo by Nagesh Badu on Unsplash

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Kong Mong is the Web Services Coordinator at the Berntsen Library at the University of Northwestern St. Paul. He graduated from Bethel University with a BA in Biblical and Theological Studies. He lives in MN with his wife and four children.

AACC San Francisco Prayer Rally Recap

By Jessica Gracewski

S

an Francisco is home. I love watching how God makes His way present in this city. The collective community of believers desire to see renewal in our beloved city, and we acknowledge the ways in which God works often are unseen and unknowing, including the AACC prayer rally on Sunday, March 28th. This particular journey with God and others in the AAPI community was nothing less than God working masterfully. The experience at the rally helped embody and experience how I imagine heaven to be like - multi-generational and muliti-ethnic believers gathered together for a common hope to restore dignity.

One of the first things that came to mind as I experienced the prayer rally on Sunday is how God already has big things in store. God can turn these seemingly small hopes into a grand idea and it can lead to something larger like a group of ideas that somehow turns into large teams of people. The body of Christ is fascinating. He can take small inklings and inspire large invitations and opportunities for other voices calling others out, up and forward and then poof - a rally (or 14) is born! This was an incredible thing to watch and take part in. God inspires others to exhort one another upwards together to Christ, and I was honored to witness each speaker bring their unique beauty and story of what God is doing on behalf of our shared AAPI heritage. 

Personally, I am still in awe as God used His creative ways to make a space and stage for my story and my voice with the invitation to speak. 

The pastoral staff of Sunset Church called me with an intentional invitation to hear my story, my thoughts and to intentionally highlight voices from AAPI Christian women in our community. This was a collective posture of unity and solidarity from many co-host organizations that included: Sunset Church, Mobilize Love, and Stop AAPI Hate. This invitation embodied the power of the Holy Spirit through faith, action and empowerment of others. It was a powerful display of the church in action. This was an act of love, unity and solidarity to ask and desire to highlight voices outside of their own church communities. The speakers also highlighted our unique voices and interconnectedness through different and diverse perspectives and voices that included Joey Chen (Pastor, Sunset Church), Lauren Gee (Journalist), Russell Jeung (Professor, SF State, Stop AAPI Hate co-founder), Jane Lam (Pastor, Social worker), Jeannie Lee (Children’s ministry director, Great Exchange Covenant Church), Teresa Young (SF Native, Public sector leader), Gerald Mann (Pastor, Sunset Ministry Church), Drew Yamamoto (Pastor, Trinity Church), and Francis Chan (Pastor, Crazy Love).

For me, being part of a larger story of what God was doing in our community really inspired me. I knew that this invitation and honor was a posture to show others that listening, hearing, and giving voice to AAPI Christian women mattered. During the event, listening to various generations of Asian American women was insightful and impactful because we got to see and experience how women’s unique stories and perspectives were important, valued, and needed to be heard. The platform and invitation was not one I agreed to lightly. I knew my story and my voice carried an invitation for other women to be known, heard, seen, and embodied. To be totally transparent, saying “my” story and “my” voice causes my entire inside to cringe. Saying “yes” was a leap of faith and the process I experienced in taking this step was a way I felt convicted to show others how we can use our unique voices, individuality, perspectives, and the specific way we were each created to embody the fullness of the Gospel and family of God. It was to show how our created beings can be a powerful move of solidarity. 

I shared at the rally, “We NEED our voices, we need our minds, our beings, our complexities and specifically our AAPI heritage. We are light and image bearers of God and it is necessary to embody the fullness of God and the good news of the gospel.”

I also spoke from my unique perspective as an Asian American woman, minister, and spiritual director who identifies with many cultural and mixed ethnic spaces. I am a Korean Japanese American transracial adoptee. My family culture is a mix of Polish, Scotch, Irish, and German heritages, and extended family of fellow adoptees, ethnicities, and expansive cultures. I would say my journey to find my voice has often been shadowed by a lot of complex emotions, shame, confusion, and lies that made me believe that my Asian heritage did not have a major role to play. I felt like it disqualified me because of the complexity of how Jesus has redefined family, ethnicity, culture, and identity. I have experienced that feeling of not quite “Asian” enough, but just “Asian” enough to be a target for racist remarks, jokes, bullying, and discrimination. I also recognize that as an Asian American woman, there is a particular kind of weight that comes with speaking out against sexualizing our AAPI sisters, misogyny, demanding a stop to hurtful and hateful slurs and actively speaking up to protect our elderly and children. It is weighty because I can relate in many ways and it has been deeply personal. 

I encouraged those listening, “Speaking out and processing pain must be a journey with God and with one another. They are weighty because they are personal. Our activism MUST be our own. This work requires more than just words - it requires lament, grief, listening, and engaging. We must not fear, because we do not go through this alone.”

I also added, “Specifically, I want to speak and encourage the Asian American Community of Christians to actively engage using our unique voices, individuality, perspectives, and the specific way we were each created. These are an incredible way that the fullness of the Gospel and family of God must be embodied and experienced. We must use our voices to be a powerful move of solidarity in the way to grieve, lament, and engage in our churches and communities as a unique reflection of the ways in which God can work. We must be light and image bearers that can instill hope and dignity wherever we are.”

It has been a complex thing to untangle, but stepping out in faith on that stage continues to be a reminder that steps of faith are worth it and that the good news of the Gospel is that God is not deterred by our pain or complexity, rather He joins us and empowers us. I am also continually reminded that God deeply cares about our individual stories and continues to renew and redeem all of our stories as beautiful masterful reflections of his character, dignity, and intention for the collective Church. 

The public words and demonstrations of remembrance, processing pain, prayers for healing, call to repentance, and proclaiming dignity and sacredness of specifically AAPI life was powerful beyond words. And yet, we have an even deeper invitation to encourage our AAPI community to not only come alongside our fellow Asian Americans, but to be in solidarity with all of our Black, Brown, and fellow indigenous brothers and sisters that experience any kind of racist violent attacks and opposition to restoration of dignity as human beings.  

This is a journey with God and with others and we must love sincerely. We must not fear, because we do not go through this alone. Lord, have mercy. 

Photos by Anjelica Dumanovsky.

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Jessica is an Asian American Transracial Adoptee, Spiritual Director and Minister at Reality SF Church in San Francisco, CA.

AACC Detroit Prayer Rally Recap

By Jonathan Kwon

T

he long forgotten racist and untold legacy of Detroit remains fresh in the minds of the events collaborators and hosts. We’ve just met face to face for the first time since the onset of COVID and have recently visited the Charles H. Wright Museum of African American History together to learn how people of all colors can unite together to fight against systematic racism in our city. On Wednesday evening (3/24), Andrew Kim, Samuel An, Peng-Li Liu, Jimmy Yang, Nathan Cole, Jonathan Kwon, got a call, “Hey. Do you want to join other cities across the nation to ask God for healing on Sunday afternoon?” Of course the answer was “yes!” But how? There was an unequivocal silence on the phone, undoubtedly because all of us knew we would have to act swiftly and nobody had the time to run the logistics for it. We had to do this well. We had to do this safely given the dramatic rise in COVID-19 cases in our area. We also had to do it collaboratively.

Friday morning (3/26), 10am: a plan is in motion. Logistics are ready to roll, materials have been procured, a social media strategy is in place, and a program is to follow suit. Leaders of the event represented men and women from City on a Hill Church, InterVarsity USA, Kensington Church, Metro Detroit Chinese Christian & Missionary Alliance Church, New Hope Church, and Woodside Bible Church.  

Sunday morning (3/28), 8am: the forecast is forbidding. There are high winds and lots of freezing rain. Some doubt sets in. Will anybody besides the collaborators and their families come? We push that fear to the said. “It doesn’t matter. We have to continue.” So we all attend and lead our respective community church services that morning and then head over to our rally location at Kensington Church in Troy, MI. 

Sunday afternoon, 3pm: We arrive at Kensington Church’s west parking lot and set up. Meanwhile both the winds and rain dissipate. I begin to think, “maybe God is shining on us and this rally.” We then pray together, beseeching God to do his will here on earth as it is in heaven. We ask God to forgive our own racism and racist hearts and minds. We ask God to move mightily in the hearts of the people across the nation to do something that the leaders of this nation can’t: change the hearts of people who are far from him. 

Sunday afternoon, 3:40pm: the winds pick up and the freezing rain starts to fall from the sky. Will the people of God come to pray? Slowly but, steadily, one car after another enters the parking lot. The people of God have heard the call to pray and so they come, not alone, but with their families, and their friends. It’s not just Asian Americans. It’s people of all colors and all walks of life. They come together in the freezing rain to stand united with cities across the nation. 

Sunday afternoon, 4pm: about 80 people have gathered so far. We start passing out flyers and digital programs, and singing corporately. We initiate the livestream. Then the weather gets worse. The weather must be mirroring our troubled hearts because we pause and take a moment of silence, to pray for the victims of racism against Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders across our nation, and you can feel the winds whipping the microphones left and right in anguish, sorrow, and sympathy for the victims in the Atlanta massacre. The hard pelting of freezing rain confirms the tempest groaning within our souls for all of the victims of racist attacks during COVID. What a day for lament!

Sunday afternoon, 4:30pm about 40 more people have arrived. The weather is still relentless, but we continue praying. We are using Psalm 13 as our guide to lament and pray corporately. We pray in English, Hmong, Chinese, and Korean. Native speakers hear and respond in their languages as a call to lament. It’s a true Acts 2 moment. People prayed and were cut to the heart, but their faith in God was also reconfirmed and their minds refreshed. 

The prayer rally in Metro Detroit was a mixed gathering of diaspora Asian Americans, unifying on the basis of their Christian faith. Jesus was at the center of our rally. The world he created, however, rejected him. He was rejected by his own people. If our savior was rejected by his own people, then that gives us hope here in Detroit and across the United States. It gives us hope because Jesus knew that he’d be received into his kingdom by his father. That’s our hope. We, as Asian American Christians, are not second class citizens. We are not marginalized. We are not irrelevant. We are heirs of the living God! That’s the Good News for all Christians, regardless of race. 

We close our prayer rally with this thought from Jeremiah 29:4-7 (ESV): “Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat their produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.”

Sunday afternoon, 5pm: we close the rally with prayer and disperse back to our communities to act in accordance to our calling as Christ followers in a corrupt and broken world. Faith without works is dead. So we must act. We committed to  pray  and care for the welfare of our cities and our people, Asian and non-Asian alike, because we are God’s people. 

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Jonathan Kwon is an Executive Pastor at Woodside Bible Church in Royal Oak, MI. Jonathan moonlights as a government and corporate consultant in his free time. Previously, he spent 15 years serving as a bi-vocational pastor working in government and then as a management consultant. Jonathan is passionate about proclaiming the Gospel through community development, social justice, preaching, and empowering churches.

AACC Dallas Prayer Rally Recap

By Young-Sam Won

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ike so many, the news of the Atlanta massacre hit hard. I saw the names and faces of victims that felt so familiar to me. Combined with the ongoing news of violence against Asian victims, I felt a deep sense of lament and anger. But as the days passed, I became aware of silence. Silence is not always obvious to us because we are inundated by noise in today’s world, and yet, the silence became loud. Many Asian American voices were mourning, lamenting, and expressing anger, but not all. As I grieved, I became acutely aware of who had reached out, who had spoken out, and who said nothing.

I was heartened to see that the Asian American Christian Collaborative was actively addressing the tragedy. I was not surprised to see plans for an event in Atlanta. Then I started to see that other cities would be joining the AACC event and I sensed something different, something new happening. It was around that time that Raymond Chang, the President of AACC, reached out to see if I could organize a similar event in Dallas. My immediate reaction was, “Yes! Let’s do something here and show our solidarity, our participation in a growing wave of public action.”

I began to look for a site since this was an essential first step. I contacted the city offices, and I reached out to the leadership of the church where we rent our worship space. I was met with indifference from city officials, but I was most hurt by the response from the church that hosts our majority Asian American multi-ethnic church. They informed me that they were not comfortable with the idea of hosting a “political” event on their grounds. This did not surprise me, but it was the additional note that was like a gut punch. The representative then added that the Atlanta tragedy was not a racist incident since the police had already said so. In fact, he added that it was the media that was making this a racialized incident. I sat with this and grieved. For context, this church is a conservative Evangelical church that has been quite generous and welcoming to our church. However, this response felt like more than a “no.” It felt like a gratuitous shot across the bow warning us that we should stick to the gospel and not get involved in matters of racism or injustice. I felt broken and even contacted Raymond to let him know that Dallas probably wouldn’t happen.

A few days later, Rich Lee reached out and told me that Houston and Austin were on board and with tongue-partly-in-cheek, asked where Dallas was. I was discouraged and related to him what had happened as I looked for a site. Rich was gracious in acknowledging that we were up against some challenging factors here. Spurred on, I reached out to my boss and a colleague at Dallas Seminary who are both Asian American to see if they had any ideas. This was Thursday evening, two days before the event. It was a Hail Mary.

I got a text from my director Dipa Hart at 1am, Friday. She apologized for missing my earlier text but wanted me to reach out to a pastor she knew at Chase Oaks Church, a large Evangelical church in the north suburbs. Friday morning, while juggling student appointments, I made the cold call and heard back with an encouraging response. I was contacted by Stanley Wang, who helps consult with the church leadership on matters of diversity and cross-cultural outreach. Stanley immediately understood what AACC was seeking to do, and we realized we were like-minded collaborators. Stanley got it and he quickly sought to get Chase Oaks on board with hosting. By Friday afternoon, Stanley not only secured us a wonderful site, but brought Peter Park, one of the campus pastors, on board. We were in business, but now I had to try and put together a group to help lead this event from the front.  It was in this process that I could sense God’s favor and his movement.

I reached out to Judy Dominick who had moved to Dallas a little over a year ago and was so excited when she agreed to take part. I knew Judy would be the perfect person to help us remember the victims and reflect on this tragedy. Dipa Hart agreed to take part and speak on lament. As an Indian American woman in leadership at a large seminary, Dipa understood the pain and challenges of racism and misogyny. Stanley then suggested having his wife, Jenny Wang, a licensed therapist, speak on trauma. I was amazed at this group of Asian American women who would be leading us. Then on Sunday afternoon, I found out that Garland Dunlap, an African American pastor and respected leader, would be able to participate. We were able to put together a simple but meaningful event plan over the course of two days due to the participation of  outstanding individuals speaking with expertise and insight.

As I stood in the afternoon Sunday sun, I marveled at the turnout and the way people responded to our speakers. God was moving. We had about 150-200 people, which was remarkable considering we only had 48 hours to announce our event and get the word out. People from Chase Oaks church, from my own church, The Bridge, joined in to take care of the logistics ranging from setting up to taking photos and video. It was beautiful to see so many people, who did not even know each other, joining together to make this event happen. God was moving. Despite having only met to go over our program fifteen minutes before the event, Judy, Dipa, and Jenny led us in remembrance, lament, and reflection on trauma in such a powerful and moving way. God was moving. As we shared the AACC call to action, voices in the crowd called out in affirmation. God was moving. As we closed with a time of prayer, I was moved by the way Garland Dunlap, Voltaire Cacal, Peter Park, Judy, and Dipa led us to the Lord. God was moving.

Afterwards, we all basked in God’s presence. People came up to tell us how much this event meant to them. Asian American people shared how this was a time of healing because they had been surrounded by so much silence in the wake of Atlanta. God was moving. I then saw the news coming in from around the country and saw how the various other events had gone and I knew that we were seeing a new work, a new movement rising. God is moving.

Photo by Jason Leung on Unsplash

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Young-Sam (Sam) Won is currently the Associate Director of Ministry Formation at Dallas Theological Seminary and an adjunct professor in the Old Testament department (Ph.D. OT Studies, Dallas Seminary, '17). Sam currently serves as an elder at The Bridge Church in Dallas. After finishing his Th.M. at Dallas Seminary, Sam and his family served in Russia doing student ministry for three years. Sam also has a background in pharmacy (PharmD, UofM '94) and has most recently worked as a coverage pharmacist for Texas Oncology. You can follow him on Twitter: @SamObiWon

AACC Minneapolis Prayer Rally Recap

By Khanh Nguyễn and Rev. Mary Chung March

O

n March 28th, 2021, Minneapolis joined with thirteen other cities from Los Angeles to New York to Atlanta to lament and protest anti-AAPI violence and racism. As the movement started by the Asian American Christian Collaborative gained traction across the nation, the AAPI community in Minneapolis could not sit this one out. Within 24 hours Rev. Mary Chung March, Covenant Asian Pastors Association President and the Mosaic Commission Chair of the ECC, banned together twelve diverse speakers and more volunteers to participate in this first-ever nationwide rally to “Stand for AAPI Lives and Dignity.” Between 70- 100 people came out to show their support and solidarity for the event and the AAPI community.

Rev. Mary Chung March spoke of the rise in Anti-Asian hate incidents and declared, “We are resolved to be silent no longer and we will stand up and speak for AAPI lives and dignity. We will raise our voices because oppression, racism, and hate crimes will not have the final say.”

Rev. Cecilia Williams, CEO and President of the CCDA (Christian Community Development Association), followed with a passionate prayer of unity. Then we held a moment of silence for the eight victims of the Atlanta shootings.

Carla Vernón, Amazon.com VP, and Dr. Sarah Park Dahlen, Ph.D. Associate Professor at St. Catherine University, read a Litany of Lament provided by Dr. Russell Jeung (StopAAPIHate.org) and used it with permission. They alternated reading the hate incidents that Asian elders had experienced in the past year. It was a somber moment hearing the suffering and racism that AAPI people have been facing.

Rev. Hollis Kim, Director of Pastoral Care & Development for the Northwest Conference, then spoke on behalf of Asian Elders: “I’m here because God has been ambushing me, as an older half-Korean, half-Okinawan man. I formerly would keep my head down and be silent. But God has brought me to sobs and tears, unexpectedly sometimes uncontrollably... So I’m here because these are MY people, Asian American Pacific Islanders, and I stand with my people.”

Rev. Luke Swanson of Community Covenant Church led the crowd in a time of communal call and response lament and confession. He confessed that “The sin of racism must be named and actively dismantled. Justice begins in confession. As a white leader, I confess my sin that has blinded me to the trauma of my brothers and sisters... Lord Jesus, as you wept over Jerusalem, so we weep and mourn today over our cities and our land. We weep for our sin of silence in the face of injustice and violence and blood-shed…”

Rev. Paul Robinson, Executive Minister of Love Mercy Do Justice of the ECC, acknowledged that we are guests on indigenous and native lands and that native and indigenous people know well the oppression, genocide, and marginalization. He said, “I’m here today because I am a brother to my brothers and sisters in the AAPI community and I’m also here because the blood of my ancestors called me to stand for justice, for freedom, and to fight oppression.” He also reiterated that the current incidents of anti-Asian racism are not new and recounted the history of US anti-Asian racism such as the concept of Yellow Peril, the Page Act, the Chinese Exclusion Act, the Japanese American Mass Incarceration during WWII, the murder of Vincent Chin, and many other government-sanctioned laws and policy that “othered” Asian Americans. He proclaimed, “Enough is enough! Enough is enough! We can’t be silent when members of our family are attacked, murdered, and afraid, and made to feel unwelcome. I’m here to invite people of the African American community and Asian communities to seize this moment. This is yet another opportunity for us to stand together against systemic racism, against xenophobia, against anti-Asian sentiment, and violence against women in general that continues to plague this nation. I ought to get an ‘Amen.’ We’ve been fighting hundreds of years...and I want you to know, I’m not tired yet!”

Rev. Osheta Moore, Pastor, Author, Speaker, and Everyday Peacemaker, lamented that “anti-Asian racism has been minimized, even with the Atlanta mass shooting, the first flood of articles centered on the humanity of the murderer, not the Asian women who were murdered. Asian American Sisters, we are heartbroken with you.”

Khanh Nguyễn, Founder and President of C3: Cultural Competency Consulting, was grateful as a Vietnamese boat person/refugee that their sponsoring church introduced her family to Jesus. But she also called out the history of the American Empire that has led to the lies painting Asians as either the model minority or the perpetual foreigner.

Nguyễn said, “I am thankful for the good in America, but the American dream has become the American Idolatry... I for one did not escape one empire to come worship at the footstool of another, for our kingdom is not of any nation on Earth but our kingdom is one where Jesus’ love, mercy, and justice reign. To my Asian Family. I believe this is our George Floyd moment. We can no longer remain silent. It’s time to rock the boat!”

Pastor Der Lor of Roseville Covenant Church explained how for Asian Pacific Islander women, racism hits in multiple ways along with misogyny and sexism. He condemned a culture that objectifies and sexualizes them and declared, “They are not your comfort women or submissive co-workers. They are sisters, daughters, mothers, aunties, pastors, teachers, CEOs, doctors...people, not objects. They are human...They are the embodied Imago Dei...They belong.”

Rev. Jennifer Ikoma-Motzko and her five-year-old daughter stepped up to pray for the AAPI community. Jennifer first shared that Kazuko Kay Ige (her grandmother and an American citizen), was a teenager sent to a US WWII internment camp and that she spoke out against the xenophobia, racism, and trauma that her family and 120,000 Japanese Americans experienced behind those barbed wires. Her grandma helped organize the Redress Movement to obtain restitution of civil rights, an apology, and/or monetary compensation from the U.S. government during the six decades that followed the Japanese American Mass Incarceration during WWII. Her grandmother even testified before the US congress against those atrocities.

Jennifer concluded her prayer with, “We pray for strength, courage, and unwavering companionship on the journey. イエス, Iesu-sama – may your light and love guide us.” 

Then in a “scene-stealing” moment, her five-year-old daughter prayed powerfully out of the “mouth of babes:”

Dear God, I have no idea why people have ideas and make rules based on the color of people’s skin... It’s silly to hurt someone because you are afraid of them. I hope one day there will be none of these silly rules and ideas. I don’t just want them to end in the United States, I want them to end all over. I want there to be peace in all planets. Even the ones that aren’t earth, like Mars. I pray that Asian American people, especially girls, do not get hurt anymore. I pray that you will protect them... that you give them courage when they are scared to walk down the street. Why do people hurt people? I think this should not happen anymore! I think non-Asian people and Asian people should speak up and stand up to the people who are hurting them. Kind of like Martin Luther King Jr. He stood up so that his children wouldn’t be judged by the color of their skin. If anyone treats me ... by the color of my skin or because I am a girl, I’m going to stand up and say that’s not right. Thank you, God, for spreading peace and love. Amen.”

Rev. Stephanie O’Brien Williams, lead pastor at Mill City Church, and Rev. T.C. Moore, lead pastor at Roots Covenant Church, stood in solidarity with our AAPI community as white pastors, and they spoke of their resolve to stand, speak, and fight for the AAPI community as they read out the Call to Actions from the AACC Statement on the Atlanta Massacre. 

Rev. Stephanie O’Brien Williams said, “My family is hurting. When I see my Asian American Pacific Islander brothers and sisters hurting, I say they are a part of my family. And when some of our family is hurting, all of our family is hurting. I want to stand with them but I also want to fight for them and honor them as leaders. I want to follow [them].... You are leaders absolutely worth following and your courage is an inspiration to us all.”  

Rev. Mary Chung March finished the Minneapolis rally, thanking everyone for coming and standing in 40-degree MN weather to stand with the AAPI community. She invited people to visit local Asian restaurants and businesses, to join the prayer vigil at the Capitol later that evening, and to continue to raise their voices together. We closed the rally acknowledging we belong to each other and prayed together by raising our voices as the family of God, praying the Lord’s prayer as Jesus taught us in one voice. 

Even though this gathering was pieced together in a 48-hour period the Minneapolis AACC hour-long rally flowed so smoothly, so powerfully and so full of the Holy Spirit. We are so grateful that Minneapolis Christian faith leaders did not sit this one out, showed up, and stood together for AAPI lives and dignity. It will be a day we will remember. Praise God!

The Minneapolis AACC Rally on March 28, 2021 link: https://youtu.be/nPy1n8vIfC0

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Mary, a New Jersey native, grew up in a Korean immigrant church plant in NJ where her parents were the founding pastors. As a pastor’s kid, she grew up in the church and lived the highs and lows of church planting and pastoral ministry through my parents. From that experience, she is passionate about soul care for pastors and leaders. She graduated from University of Michigan with a B.A. in History and Psychology and from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary with a M. Div. and a Masters in Counseling specializing in Marriage and Family Therapy. She has worked as a youth pastor (Staten Island, NY), a children’s pastor (Manchester, CT), a co-college pastor at Highrock Church (Boston, MA), and a family and youth counselor at the Bridge for Youth (Minneapolis, MN). She is the co-founding and co-lead pastor at New City Covenant Church, was ordained in the ECC, the daughter of two ordained senior pastors, the wife to her co-lead pastor and husband, John, and the mother to four beloved children between the ages of 6 and 15. She serves as the Chair of the Mosaic (Ethnic) Commission of the ECC and President of the Covenant Asian Pastors Association of the ECC.

Khanh Nguyễn's family escaped as refugees from the war in Vietnam and was sponsored by a church that introduced them to the gospel of Jesus. She is married to David and has 2 delightful children, My Linh and Khoa. They go to a Chinese immersion school and like to speak behind their parents back in Chinese Her experiences as a missionary, multi-ethnic church leader, walking alongside African refugees, and instructor in a Christian university teaching courses on race, culture and ministry has led her to start her own consulting ministry, C3: Cultural Competency Consulting. She trains churches and organizations in areas of cultural competency, Anti-racism education, immigration & refugee advocacy and Asian American topics.