I have carried these two perspectives, those of my tito and my classmates, with me for many years, trying to discern the right way to respond. The painful reality has been that biblical passages such as Rom. 13:1–7 have been used to justify the horrors of colonialism; by right of conquest, the imperial powers were granted the divine right to rule.

Asian Americans who are not fully bilingual understand Moses’s dilemma and can identify with his situation. As they are unable to speak fluently in the language of their homeland, they end up stammering and stuttering when they try. They speak hesitantly as they translate from one language to the other in their heads, and when words eventually emerge, they are tainted by an accent. On occasion, native speakers make fun of their feeble attempts, thus shaming and further discouraging them, causing them to shut down.

Alongside “Have you eaten yet?”, “Let’s eat!”—or in my Cantonese household, “sik fan la!”—is a mealtime call shouted loud and clear throughout the house, reaching all the hungry stomachs and drawing them near. …As I read Jesus’s words, “Come and have breakfast” (John 21:12, NIV), I can’t help but recognize Jesus’s anticipation of the disciples’ needs and his preparation of a simple, yet thoughtful meal made with love.

We've inherited a vision of work that prizes achievement, esteem, and productivity above all else. But Scripture tells us something different. Work is about worship, service, and faithfulness. And the gap between those two visions is exactly what the Parable of the Talents in Matthew 25:14–30 invites us to reckon with.

Asian American biblical interpretation is committed to reading with, for, and about those who have been minoritized due to their Asian identity, while also offering them critique. It proposes a way forward toward greater justice and equality for Asian Americans.

Over the years, I’ve greatly benefited from the friendships I’ve made within AACC, especially as I’ve found other Asian American Christians pursuing a multi-faceted holistic discipleship—holism with the biblical view of the kingdom of God, and holism in integrating our Asian American identities with our faith.

Genocide Awareness Month reminds me of the need for forgiveness. It reminds me that to resist evil, we need to forgive those who have wronged us. This is only possible through the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is the one who forms the church into a forgiving people. In doing so, we become a nonviolent people who can exist in a violent world.

Foley’s book The Anti-Greed Gospel is an excellent introduction to racial capitalism as a constructive way to think about and combat racism. The constructive responses Foley outlines in this book are radical, but the gospel of Jesus Christ is radical.

So, I began to wrestle.
How do I honor the Lord
and also honor my parents?
How do I repay their sacrifices
while also honoring the sacrifice my Savior made for me?
“You’ll bring honor to us all.”
“Honor your father and mother.”

Father's PNEUMA is a very personal project for me. It was my attempt to reflect and process the devastating effects of Pulmonary Fibrosis - a debilitating lung disease that is taking my father's life. Through this piece, I explore the heart-wrenching journey of watching a loved one's gradual loss of breath and the overwhelming helplessness of such a condition.

How does one live faithfully to Jesus when you cannot stand your parents and do not know how to turn the ship around? We all come from varying degrees of conflict in our families of origin. It is my hope that my story can show a potential way forward and most importantly give Asian Americans permission to wrestle with the hardships of family relationships without shame.

In traditional Asian culture, and certainly in the Indian culture that I grew up in, honor is relational, communal, and duty-based. Our vocations, careers, lifestyles, and decisions in life may be scrutinized through an honor-based lens. While the Western society that many of us grow up in places great importance on self-expression and chosen respect, Asian honor translates to sacrifice, family reputation, loyalty, and obedience.

Our cultural heritage matters to God. Within our cultural heritage there are things we can learn about God. As Asian Christians we’re rarely told this. Perhaps we’re more often told that God wants us to set aside parts of our cultural heritage in the name of following Jesus.

But after this time of immobility, I've slowly come to realize that what I've received from my mother—my inheritance—is much greater than any sum of money: My very flesh, my whole life, was a gift from her.

Just as Jesus came as a baby approximately 2025 years ago to fulfill the hope of deliverance and reconciliation with God, there is a promise of a second coming of deliverance where all things will be once again made new. We must remember that this story of waiting is not a story of passive resignation or hardened indifference, or a fatalistic belief that nothing will change the trajectory of this cruel world’s demise. The story of redemption is not one of instant resolution, but of patient faith. And just because we cannot see what is to come does not mean we do not wait in anticipation and long-suffering for the story yet to be unraveled.

I took her withering hand in mine, the same hands that raised me up, the same hands that taught me how to read the Bible, the same hands that fed me purple yams, and I sighed. Because as a musician, I’ve been trained to hear what is both in sound and silence. Because as an actor, I’ve been taught to read between the lines. Because as a mixed child, I hold a distinct universe of two cultures, and yet, neither of them at the same time. Because as a Vietnamese girl who didn’t speak the language, I learned to navigate meaning in the space between understanding.

Asians from all sorts of ethnic backgrounds, immigration stories, denominations, and contexts came together as one body—distinct, yet unified by a common faith and shared heritage.

This was the mentality that my parents instilled in me when I was growing up. Grounded in cultural (i.e., Korean) and biblical principles, a part of this mindset was for my sister and me to be kind to one another as siblings. But make no mistake about it: in my family, the “family comes first” mentality disproportionately emphasized the need to honor our parents. 

Those of us who grew up in an Asian American context know how shame often plays a prominent role in family and community dynamics. Major decisions can be made based on shame. Decisions like who you end up marrying, where you decide to go to school and study, and even what career you might choose to pursue can all be based on shame.

As Christians, we have the opportunity to experience God’s heart when we practice hospitality. In many ways, with its communal focus, rich food culture, and natural bent toward honoring guests, Asian culture uniquely positions us to share this kind of welcome with others. We have the opportunity to create spaces where people can enjoy a meal and a meaningful conversation. Where they can wrestle with a difficult thought, share their anxieties, or sit silent in grief. Where they can linger without an end time.

Here’s what we have learned. You do not drift into becoming a Jesus-centered church. You have to build it. We began asking, “How do we form a church where Jesus is truly central?” We found the answer in two things: discipleship and prayer.

As we learn how to tell our story with God, our voice becomes our superpower and points people to Jesus. It’s not just about knowing our story; it’s about telling it with the voice we have been given.

There is a reason that Jesus instructs his followers, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3). Once we become adults, our ability to embrace change and to open ourselves to new ways of thinking and living diminishes. But children have an inherent openness and malleability; with the exposure to the right kind of books, a child can be formed in ways that will last into adulthood.

As those who follow Christ, we believe in a God who provided daily bread in the wilderness (Exodus 16); a God who multiplied bread for thousands of people (Matthew 14:13-21), and a God who ultimately became bread to satisfy our deepest hunger (John 6:22-59). We can imagine it grieves God that anyone should be hungry; it should lead us to lament too. How do we wrestle with the weight of these realities and love our neighbors as ourselves (Matthew 22:34-40)? 

I’ve learned that change rarely comes through arguments. My parents aren’t moved by stats. But stories, especially ones that echo their own, sometimes open something up. When I connect their immigrant struggles to those of others today, it sometimes softens them. Not always. But sometimes. What helps most is grounding our conversations in the life of Jesus—his humility, compassion, and refusal to chase power. When we remove Trump from the picture and just look at Jesus, the contrast is jarring. In the best way.

One of my favorite stories is Akira Toriyama’s manga/anime Dragon Ball. Loosely inspired by the novel Journey to the West, Dragon Ball follows a young boy named Son Goku, who enjoys martial arts which helps him to fight strong opponents and push his limits. While Dragon Ball never explicitly states its Asian setting, Toriyama prominently features Asian food, martial arts, and characters with dark hair and eyes. These examples may sound simple, but my younger self, who grew up on white superheroes like Superman, instantly felt a deeper connection to Goku as I experienced Asian representation for the first time.

do not forget

the ropes

suffocating the necks of

the Chinese

who sing the song of ages:

we can’t breathe.

Somehow learning that I have an Asian American accent felt fitting after learning snapshots of history. As if I inherited an unexpected gift or was mysteriously re-connected to the Asian Americans who came before me and struggled the same way. While I’ll probably always fumble over Korean, I know that regardless of my proficiency in Korean or English, I belong here.

Let us embrace the roots we’ve come from; And stand on the shoulders of our elders; The roots we grow from; The roots we rise from

We all have losses that have shaped us, from losing something we loved to lacking something (or someone) we needed. Only by taking the time to witness, name, and hold our Grief, can we find the strength to release it to grow into something more.