One of my first leadership meetings at the church (2010)
Fifteen years ago today, I joined Living Stones—known then as Great Exchange—as their pastor. But that change of name/affiliation cannot fully capture the adventures God has led us through.
The week before we began, I found out that I was joining a church-in-emergency. Since then, our church has gone through no small share of trials and tribulations. These last 15 years have included some of the hardest years of my life—as well as some of the most rewarding and fruitful ones.
In every valley we’ve been through are two sets of stones. The first are tombstones, where we’ve laid to rest ideas, idols, illusions that we thought were vital, yet were never of God in the first place. Between church planting culture and Silicon Valley, there is a lot that God must prune before we can grow. But the second set are standing stones, ebenezers, that testify to the unshakeable grace, deep-running faithfulness, and stunningly good purposes of God. I am so thankful for all our peaks, but I/we wouldn’t be who we are today without our valleys too. God, I’m not asking for any more though!
We’ve been in a season of blessing now for about 6 years. Our dream of being a Jesus-like presence here in the ‘burbs is far from realized, and yet God has blown me away by the fruit, the love, the missional zeal in our people. I honestly don’t think we are leading much differently than we did the previous 6 years; I mean the vision is the same! God just has his own time. I don’t take any of this for granted. It is nothing but grace!
And while I am excited about the dreams we have for the next 6 years, I know it will still all be dependent on God’s grace.
Thank you, Living Stones (and especially all you OG GrXers), for letting me be your pastor, for letting me learn how to lead and how to be more like Jesus with you. Thank you for loving me and my family, for discipling my kids with me, for dropping off meals, for introducing me to craft beer. Thank you letting me into your life, into your dreams, into the places of deep trust; seriously—I don’t take this privilege lightly. Thank you for forgiving me when I’ve messed up. Thank you for teaching me and investing in me. Thank you for still being down to journey with me towards God’s Kingdom together.
Thank you also to my wife, YuYin. We are so different. And yet, 15 years ago, when we found out we were joining a church-in-emergency, who said God ain’t sending us anywhere else? YuYin. When I had to burn the candle on both ends for years on end, who took care of everything? YuYin. And who still works a boring office job to support our family even if we all know she’d rather be caring for family or running a Hello Kitty store? YuYin.
Thank you also to my 3 boys. You never chose this adventure; in many cases, you bore the greatest sacrifices for our church by giving away your dad all those nights, weekends, etc. My love swells into pride as I see the young men you’re becoming.
God willing, he will give me another 15 years (or more) here. But however much time he gives, however he leads, I will count every day as a grace.
Yesterday, we bore witness to horrific videos of Charlie Kirk being shot while speaking at UVU. How awful for him and his family. How awful for our country.
But I have found so many reactions — including my own, to be insufficient.
“This means war.” Obviously, this reaction from the far right is deeply troubling and will only lead us to reap more of what was just sown.
“He deserved it.” This only further codifies the literal hatred, polarization, enemy-ification that has become what feels like an intractable reality in our country. And it just feeds the “this is war” stuff.
“Killing someone over a disagreement is wrong.” YES! And yet, this seems to miss that this wasn’t just two dudes having a private disagreement. And somehow lets us all off the hook.
“Please pray for his family.” ABSOLUTELY. I can’t imagine his family seeing him murdered like that. And yet, if that is all we say, we perhaps miss that Kirk was more than just a husband, father, etc. But himself a key participant in the very things that have made our country such a politically energized but also volatile place.
As Habakkuk once said: “Must I forever see these evil deeds? Why must I watch all this misery? Wherever I look, I see destruction and violence. I am surrounded by people who love to argue and fight.” Habakkuk 1:3 NLT
But I have struggled too. What do I make of all this? How do I respond? Everything has felt like only half true, at best. Everything woefully insufficient.
I just know this was wrong. But I also know, given our political climate, this was shocking but not entirely surprising (think of the political/ideological shootings in the last couple years, another school was shot up yesterday too). I know we’re gonna sadly see more. Thank God, I don’t have to always know what to pray.
Researchers say that what we are in now isn’t just around a couple of bad actors, but an ecosystem of political violence. Some factors include: hyper polarization/extremism (which I think may be due to finding our identity in certain ideologies, sides, or figures – fed by online algorithms), media “outrage industrial complex” (how many times have we been fed this borderline R rated video?), grievance culture, conspiracy theories, loneliness and isolation, access to guns.
When I see a soil such polluted, what comes to my mind are the words of the Apostle Paul: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” Romans 12:21. These weren’t trite words, he says this after talking about how to respond to your enemies.
While not the most inspiring, what I know for now is – church, we may not be able to change/fix all this right now (was that ever our job?), but I know this: We can do the OPPOSITE of all those things that are poison the ecosystem of our nation. We can SUBVERT evil with good. As a counterwitness to this awful state of affairs.
Fight extremism with humble listening and rooting our identity in Christ.
Fight the media outrage industrial complex by turning it off.
Fight grievance culture through a culture of reconciling grace (which means resolving conflicts). Speaking truth with love.
Fight conspiracy theories with a love for the truth.
Fight isolation with embodied community (again, hard).
Fight guns with … well, refusing to arm ourselves.
Insufficient? Probably. But perhaps we can stand as a witness to an another ecosystem.
“When educated Americans discuss what’s best for kids, we tend to talk about education as the be-all and end-all, when it should be seen more as the fortunate benefit of a warm and loving upbringing.”
I didn’t expect to, but I devoured Rob Kim Henderson’s memoir in 2 days — a story about a foster child, and his observations about family and social class.
Much of the book is about the traumatic instability of being a foster child. He remembers being ripped from his mother’s arms by the police. She was an addict, sent back to Korea. He never knew his Latino father. From there, he was moved from one foster “family” to the next—9 in total—never getting the stability he craved.
Eventually, he was adopted by a poor working class family, in Red Bluff, CA—a small, also poor, and dangerous town. But like most of his peers, dad left, and, like his peers, Rob accelerated his life of drinking, smoking, fighting, thieving, and truancy. He did love reading though. This sobering portrait of growing up as a foster child in poverty alone is worth the read. Most of his friends now are barely in relationships, barely employed, in prison, or dead.
But Rob also has something to share about class. Rob eventually “got out”—a statistical miracle for a foster child. He joined the military, excelled, got help for his alcoholism, and was then accepted into one of the most elite institutions in the world: Yale. From there, Cambridge.
But Yale was a curiosity to this adopted foster kid from poor Red Bluff. First, almost everyone was from stable, intact, and well-educated families. Second, when a campus protest broke out over a professor’s email about the school’s Halloween costume policy, these very privileged students spoke of the being “triggered” and deep “harms”—when he asked to understand, he was told he was too “privileged” to understand, presumably because he was half Asian (or looked white?).
But third, he came to observe what he now calls “luxury beliefs”—beliefs that confer status on the elite, but on the backs of the poor. In the past, Rob says, the rich could signal their status through luxury cars, clothes, etc. But the middle class can have all that now. So today, they signal through luxury beliefs. This is where Rob steps on some toes. “Defund the police” for example, is easy to say for his wealthy classmates who live in relative safety. And yes, he says, the poor are more likely to be incarcerated, but they’re also overwhelmingly more likely to live in neighborhoods most susceptible to crime. Or decriminalizing drugs, a harmless recreational activity for the rich, but the road to destruction for the poor. But, most personally for Rob, the deconstruction of marriage and family. Most of his peers advocated things like polyamory and called marriage “just a piece of paper” (something, he says, they don’t seem to apply to their Yale degrees). But he, and most of his friends in Red Bluff would’ve traded the world to have a stable two-parent home. And when he asked, nearly all his Yale friends planned to be in a monogamous marriage themselves one day. He thought his fellow Yalie’s would use their privilege to help the poor, to the contrary – they used the poor to bolster their own privilege.
In the end, we are all searching. Status, belonging, love. The middle class, he says, seek status through education. This speaks to me and my cohort. But he closes the book with a conversation with a parent, asking how their child could grow up to be successful like Rob. “Should we read to our child?” they ask.
“Yeah, but not because it will expand his vocabulary. Read to him because it will remind him that you love him.”
While the error of well-meaning conservatives is color-blindness (there is no racism), I believe the error of well-meaning progressives is making race everything.
Yes, racism is part of the ‘matrix’ of American society. You cannot know me without knowing my ethnicity and how I have experienced my race. But my race or even ethnicity is not the truest thing about me. Celebrating AAPI Heritage Month, for example, doesn’t do a lot to help me feel ‘seen.’ Honestly, I don’t know many Asians who even care about AAPI Heritage Month (or even know when it is…do you?). Most of us feel more at home when celebrating holidays like Lunar New Year, Diwali, or *gasp* Christmas!
This is what makes me cringe at times when progressives try to be ‘inclusive.’ What this usually means is including people like me simply because of my race. For Asians, this is deeply problematic since “Asian” (or its much worse “AAPI”) is a patchwork umbrella term for 60% of the world! How am I, a Toisanese American supposed to represent all Asians on this team, panel, or social media post?
Progressives thus end up reifying race, hardening the very racial categories that they purport to break down! Racial diversity thus becomes a convenient way for progressives to claim to be antiracist without really having done anything to challenge the construct of race itself. To put it another way, antiracism can become a way of perpetuating the logic of race!
What folks often forget about race is that it is not primarily about skin color or culture, but a logic that justifies inequality and oppression. What good does it do, for example, when Harvard boasts about its racially diverse class, when the “underserved races” included aren’t poor rural Black or Salvadoran DACA youths, but Nigerian royals or sons of Argentinian diplomats? Race, thus becomes a way for progressives to further burnish their elite credentials (think: diversity is the new Gucci bag), again, without doing anything meaningful about the inequality that race justifies.
This is why I’m with Jesus on this one, who came preaching “good news to the poor.” And the Apostle Paul who gave his life for this gospel: That Jesus’ death and resurrection broke down the dividing wall of hostility between Jew and Gentile (aka ‘race’), but also between slave and free (aka ‘class’). We cannot understand the power of race unless we center the concerns of the poor. To put it in antiracist terms, we must tend to the space where race intersects poverty, with greater emphasis on poverty. Because ultimately, race is how we justify poverty, violence, and oppression. This is why, while well-educated Asians like me have every reason to decry violence against our elders and sisters, because violence is oppression, that notwithstanding, we need to check ourselves when it comes to things that mostly concern the elite: Hollywood representation, bamboo ceilings, and Harvard admissions; there are plenty of Chinese and Koreans represented, but many less Cambodians, Fijians, or Hmong. On the other hand, it’s one thing to raise my fist for #BlackLivesMatter at an NBA game, rooting for some of the wealthiest and most celebrated Black men in the country, quite another thing to work with our community, local police department, and DA to do something about mass incarceration. We remember MLK Jr. for his fight against racism; but less well-known is that a year before he was assassinated, he was preparing for his next chapter against inequality: “The Poor People’s Campaign,” a 2,000 person march on DC of the poor walking peacefully for jobs, unemployment insurance, a fair minimum wage, and education.
I used to think that those who said, “It’s not about race; it’s about class!” were guilty of skirting the reality of race. And maybe that’s still true. But I now realize those who only focus on race are ignoring the evil that race enables: poverty.
This past Sunday night, I gathered Caleb’s spiritual elders and mentors to send him off with wisdom and blessing.
YuYin and I could not share our words without tears. God, it’s so hard to let go…even if I know I am giving him over to his Heavenly Father.
I’m so grateful for the village that’s helped us raise Caleb. But this poem, written by Christina Huang, who has been like another mom to him—whom he and his brothers have always called “Tina” because they couldn’t pronounce her name as toddlers—is everything.
—
For Caleb You were the first one First son of the first son who, By my estimation, was an Asian American Christian, trying to follow Jesus more than Confucius
First patient in, Ground Zero for hopes That the Hope I had chosen would not put me to shame Because I was already bearing the pain of leaving family behind to follow Him.
Test subject #1 For experimentation, prayerful application of Gospel and Truth To prepare you from your youth to become a man in love with the Living God.
You were the first one.
Now you have been chosen in all privilege and power To arise and go, to spy out the land, To come back with a branch of fruit in hand And confirmation that what He has promised is good Is amazing Beyond what we could ever imagine More than what our weary hearts can fathom So that courage is renewed Longing, Fortitude Vision imbued with creativity Of what Kingdom looks like through Caleb Hui With CRT, slam poetry, A hunger to learn as many created things as possible.
We are sending you out as the first. Gird yourself with The Word, Fellowship, patience, Oatmeal, knee braces, Humility, kindness That you may spy with heart, mind, and eyelids wide open.
God of mercy, We tear our hearts Over how we keep tearing holes into each other Lord, save us from ourselves
We are possessed by the demon of violence Stealing bodies from the slain and souls from those who slay Abel from Cain. Cain from Abel. Lord, save us from ourselves
We shake our heads You said our young men would see visions our old men would dream dreams You didn’t say anything about them killing each other too. Lord, save us from ourselves
To hell with our stubborn hearts To hell with our stubborn laws To hell with our stubborn love of power, security, and money more than life Lord, save us from ourselves
Oh, Great Pierced One Oh, One who became weak ‘To our wounds only God’s wounds can speak’*
And so we pray… For those who lost loved ones in Monterey Park and Half Moon Bay hold them in your tender hands For the communities and small businesses who feel these gaping wounds hold them to your tender side For the families who are at a loss because those shooters weren’t just shooters but people they loved, and still love as you do too hold them up on your tender back
And give us hope To sustain our prayers To sustain our protest To sustain our push for change
But above all, give us hope
To believe you are turning our guns into plowshares
hearts of lead into hearts of flesh
And that in the end
Life wins
[CORRECTION: Outlawing abortions *do* reduce abortions, at least by 10%. Not as much as one would think, but not immaterial considering how many abortions are performed in the US. But the remaining 90%, and the well-being of children who are thankful brought to term? I still believe a wholistic/re-centered approach as I wrote below.]
I believe that our lives are a Divine gift. Christ showed us that the ultimate act of love is to *give* our lives for others. Only the Giver of life has the right to take it back, but the State/Empire is always trying to usurp this right from God for its own purposes.
This is why I also am deeply skeptical of waging war—and our widespread use of drones in undeclared wars. Why I oppose the death penalty. Why I believe in reimagining public safety. Why l’d love to also overturn DC v Heller (which turned the 2nd Amendment from collective to individual right), and end immunity for gun manufacturers. Why I support vaccines. Why I believe we must bolster support for maternal and early childhood health and flourishing, especially for working moms and the poor. Why I believe we must improve the communal discipleship of young men. Etc. Support life from ‘womb to tomb’, some call it.
Studies show, however, banning abortions don’t really reduce abortions (correction: reduces by at least 10%). Who knows, this ruling may even speed up the normalization of the most inconspicuous type of abortion: via pill. Also, I am deeply opposed to criminalizing women for making a choice that, for many, doesn’t feel like much of a choice—especially if men will not face the same consequences.
What may make a bigger difference is if women didn’t feel they had to choose between their partner’s love v their child, a job/career v a child, raising a child in poverty v a child with strong support, raising a special needs child alone v with the affirming dignity of family and social support.
What will happen next is anybody’s guess. Most likely, we will all continue to become casualties of this never ending culture war.
I pray, however, more of us will center the flourishing of lives and livelihood over ’winning’. Bending towards the most vulnerable rather than conforming to worldly power. And cultivating families, churches, and communities of such strong love that any member can envision raising children within them.
By now, I assume you’ve read about the people—mostly Asian women—who were gunned down in Atlanta. Once again, on top of a rising trend of anti-Asian hate, including violence against the elderly.
For some of us these stories have hit close to home. For others of us it hurts just knowing our friends are hurting.
But the recent massacre in Atlanta cuts deeper for some of us. While the authorities search for some tell-tale sign of racial animosity, the fact that Asian spas were targeted because the women inside were considered too much of a “temptation” for him—that’s a story some of us know all too well. While the murders are senseless, they also fit far too sensibly in an age-old American story that has sexualized Asian women and then discarded them.
What hurts even more was that this man was a Christian.
Turn, Lord, and deliver us; save us because of your unfailing love. Among the dead no one proclaims your name. Who praises you from the grave? – Psalm 6
I know some of us are feeling a strong mix of emotions: anger, hurt, fear, invisible. I want you to know that it’s okay to not have all your feelings sorted out yet. It’s okay to even have some ‘spiritually incorrect’ thoughts. Bring them to Jesus, who hurts with us. Bring them to your small group. Please don’t sit in your feelings alone. And for your own health, take some breaks away from your phone!
For those of you further from this pain, the gift you get to give right now is solidarity. Reaching out in compassion. Mourning with those who mourn. Affirming the dignity of the downtrodden. Don’t underestimate the power of this Christ-shaped gift.
Who knows? One day, God may redeem our pain and use our solidarity for his kingdom.
Over the past few days, I have been encouraged by how many fellow believers are finally speaking up. But I have also been dismayed at how many are still so callous, sometimes even doubling down on hurt in a time of so much pain.
But to all who are hurting and angry right now, I hope you take comfort in this unbending truth: Our worth is not based on how the world treats us.
And while we strive for a more just and loving world—and Church—let us thank God that our hope is not in what others, or even we do (or fail to do), but in what God alone has done and will do.
Until then, let us bring our ‘broken hallelujahs’ to the Lord.
About a week and half ago, while a 91 year old Chinese elder was walking in Oakland Chinatown, a young man came charging at him from behind, violently knocking him face down onto the concrete in broad daylight. That very day, the same was done to an 84 year old Thai elder in SF. He eventually died of his injuries. Both incidents just happened to be captured on video.
When I try to explain why these incidents hit people like me so hard, I say: It’s not just because our elders are so vulnerable, but because they are our most honorable. They are the best of us. They are the ones we bow to. Even after they die, we bow to them and offer them food before we even take our first bites.
And at least for me, when I think of Chinatown, I literally associate Chinatown with my grandparents. Back in the day before there was Ranch 99, we’d all drive up to Chinatown for dim sum and to buy Asian vegetables. I honestly didn’t like Chinatown as a kid. Great food, but it was loud and stinky. There were pigeons everywhere. But it was the only place my grandparents could be their happy and loud selves other than at home.
And so to see our venerable elders, people who are our grandparents, having their honorable faces knocked down onto the very streets where they’re supposed to feel most free to be themselves, that really hurt.
But none of this is new. Violence and racism against our elders is not new. Dare I say it is endemic to their neighborhoods.
But at least for me, what made it hurt more this time around, to be bashfully honest, was the silence of the very BIPOC brothers and sisters whom we’d worked so hard to cultivate solidarity with over this past year. The only BIPOC person I saw speaking up was Oakland’s own, rapper Mistah F.A.B. (Gratefully, more are speaking up now.)
And even within my own Asian community, I’ve felt trapped. Caught on one hand, between the Asians who are responding with racist resentment and rage—feelings I’ve been trying to disciple people out of. But on the other hand, Asians who speak 10,000 words about Let’s not respond with white supremacy! Let’s look at root issues! We still have it so good—we’re Asian! All true. But almost no words about simply saying this was wrong. That our elders are legitimately scared.
It just felt like a lot of pressure to center other people’s concerns in the midst of our own family’s fear and pain. It felt like pressure to just stay silent—like a good Asian should.
Now of course, when I finally mustered the courage to talk to my BIPOC family they immediately responded with solidarity! With sorrow and disgust. I never knew! Let me know what I can do! We’re with you! Everything you’d hope for, they said and did! Thank God! It’d simply never reached their radar.
And while I was relieved that it wasn’t that they didn’t care. I’m not sure what hurt more. Feeling that people don’t care. Or knowing that the lives of our elders don’t matter enough to make it on people’s news feeds in the first place.
I think Steven Yuen said it best: “Sometimes I wonder if the Asian-American experience is what it’s like when you’re thinking about everyone else, but nobody else is thinking about you.”
I’m gratefully in a much better place now. The solidarity of brothers and sisters. But above all, knowing that our worth isn’t defined by how the world treats our elders, but simply because we’re made in the image of God.
But I know there’s certainly a lot of work still to do. A lot.
Above is a picture of two store windows in Oakland Chinatown. And it’s a symbol of where I feel things are.
On one hand, these are pictures of beautiful solidarity; a community coming together. On the other hand, these windows weren’t boarded up for art, but for fear of violence and looting.
But we could also say it the other way too. On one hand, these windows are boarded up out of fear. But on the other hand, they are showing signs of a community trying to heal and come together.
Correction: I originally said both men died of the injuries. Fortunately, the 91 year old man, while seriously injured, survived.
This reflection was originally shared at PROCESS + RESPOND: ANTI-ASIAN HATE CRIMES, hosted by the Covenant Asian Pastors Association.
In the wake of Donald Trump’s election, SNL featured a skit entitled ‘Election Night.’
In this skit, all the white progressive friends in the apartment are shell-shocked that America has elected Donald Trump. “Oh my God, I think America is…racist!” a white friend exclaims. The two Black friends (Dave Chapelle & Chris Rock) look at each other, unable to contain their laughter, “Oh my God!” they reply with smirky sarcasm. Implication: And what else is new? This is lack of surprise at the enduring reality of racism is the perspective that CRT comes from.
In my previous post, I said I thank God for CRT because it’s given me “eyes to see” the less obvious, but no less insidious incarnations of racial injustice, which has helped me better live out my vocation to love God and my neighbor. In this post, I will share the second insight I thank God for, something that is not so ‘insightful’ to most Black people: that racism is permanent.
CRT founder Derrick Bell—who looked back, after years working for desegregation as a litigator, and saw racial inequality get worse—came to this sobering conclusion about America:
“Racism is permanent. It is an essential. It is not an aberration. It is not what most of us believed it was 30-40 years ago: a pimple on an otherwise beautiful complexion of America as a place of freedom and equality for all.”
Bell is clear to say that America is not unique in being oppressive, but it is unique in that systemic racism (of Blacks, in particular) is in the very foundation of our nation. Just read our Constitution, racism is part of our institutional and cultural DNA. Imagining America without racism is like imagining Las Vegas without Sin. Racism is permanent. We should not be surprised that racism hasn’t been defeated yet.
This stands in stark contrast to the story I grew up with—that with the Emancipation of slaves, the gains of the Civil Rights Movement, and the election of our nation’s first Black president—that we are on the path of inevitable progress towards racial equality. It also stands in stark contrast to our current racial justice movement that suggests that with more cell phone videos, with more protests, with more representation, with more reform, with more justice, then we can end racism; something that is palpable in our current moment is an impatience with racism. But Bell counters with this warning: “Yearning for racial equality is a fantasy.” CRT is a form of ‘Racial Realism.’
How depressing! Doesn’t this pessimism about racism just lead to despair? It can. But Bell says, facing the enduring reality of racism is like facing our inevitable death. If you learn you’re going to die, you can respond with despair and suicide—how can you possibly beat death? Or, in accepting your death, you can resolve to overcome in a different way: by determining to still live a meaningful life.
Some people believe CRT is anti-Christian. But Bell was actually inspired by the Christian spirituality of slaves and those living in the Deep South. Did the slaves of old have any real hope of escaping slavery in this life? No. But listen to their negro spirituals. Did they resist the power that slavery had over them? Yes. Did they give into despair? No. Did they still fight against the realities of racial oppression? Yes. Did they find other ways to overcome within the brutal reality of racism? Absolutely. The resilient, life-giving, hope-filled faith of the Black slaves reminds me of the saints of the Old Testament: All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth…. These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised (Hebrews 11:13, 39). While they believed that racial equality would not be achieved until the next life, their faith still taught them how to live in this one.
Does this mean Bell sought to merely ‘spiritualize’ victory in the face of physical oppression? No. He tells the story of an old Black woman in rural Mississippi who fought relentlessly against systemic and cultural racism in her town. In response, racist Whites would drive by in the night shooting through her house, trying to take her farm away. There was no indication that she was making significant progress against racism in her town. Whites had more money, more power, more everything. “Why do you keep fighting?” Bell asked. The old woman replied, “Derrick, I’m an old lady and I lives to harass White folks.” Now, before you misinterpret ‘harass White folks’ as hateful, remember this is like a mouse who lives to harass cats, not the other mice. It’s not hate; it’s a refusal to give up, it’s resistance against dehumanization, it’s a smiling middle finger in the face of Death—what Bell calls a kind of existential triumph.
Racism is permanent, but that didn’t stop her from holding her head up high, it didn’t stop her from fighting for her community, it didn’t stop her from living a truly meaningful life. If she believed that she could defeat racism, then perhaps she would live in greater frustration and bitterness. But since she knew racism was bigger than her, that sobering reality freed her from having to wait for racism to end before living a meaningful life.
And aren’t the parallels to the Christianity plain? On this side of the resurrection, aren’t sin and death enduring realities? Even Lazarus would eventually die again. One of the great conceits of our times is that, by our own knowledge, we can actually solve the problem of sin and death. Most of us actually believe we are less sinful than previous generations. Most of us are willing to throw the kitchen sink and more to stave off age and death. Yet Christianity, one of the original critical theories, says that we are just as wicked and perverse as the generations that have come before us. But far from plunging us into despair, the Gospel tells us two things:
Christ will defeat sin and death once and for all. While we are called to fight against sin, to resist the wiles of the Evil One, to speak truth to power, the Bible never says that we will defeat sin and death. For people with power, this is news. But for people without power, it’s Good News. As a Black sister in Christ recently told me, “We don’t expect you to solve 400 years of racism.” Or a Black pastor, “We aren’t going to end racism, only Jesus can do that when he returns.” The burden isn’t on us. And thank God! But because the burden is on Christ, we have a real hope to the end of racism—and all expressions of sin and death.
In Christ, the fight against sin and death is still meaningful, even when we don’t see victory. The meaning of our lives will not be measured by our success over sin and death any more than that old lady in Mississippi will be judged by how much she prevailed over White supremacy. Rather, meaning is found in choosing to love our neighbors, even in the midst of so much indifference; choosing to forgive, even when there’s so much hurt; choosing to strive for justice, even when injustice seems so entrenched; speaking truth to power, even when they are so immensely powerful; choosing to thank God, even when it looks so dark; choosing to hold our heads high, even if Death will inevitably bring our heads down to the ground. Because in the end, we won’t be judged by our fruitfulness—that was never in our control; instead, the word we will wait to hear is whether or not we were faithful.
“For the Lord loves the just and will not forsake his faithful ones. Wrongdoers will be completely destroyed; the offspring of the wicked will perish.” Psalms 37:28
Brian Hui 