Gifts From the First Generation

The hope was to have this post ready for Choo-Suk (the Korean Harvest Moon celebration, often described to immigrant children as the Korean Thanksgiving), and then I pushed my self-imposed deadline to Thanksgiving. I let several things get in the way.

Anyway, I grew up in the Korean immigrant church. The family story is that one of the first places we visited upon our arrival to Chicago was to Sunday service at First Korean United Methodist Church. Through the years our family would change church affiliations, but we would always be at a Korean church. They were not perfect churches. And those churches had their share of broken people and broken systems. But reading through Dr. Soong-Chan Rah‘s book, The Next Evangelicalism: Freeing the Church From Western Cultural Captivity gave me reason to pause. Rah uses the Korean immigrant church as his example for Chapter 8 – Holistic Evangelism, and it made me think back to my childhood and youth.

As the commenting raged on on other blogs about how Asian Americans need to get over their race issues and put Jesus first, I found myself thanking God for the gifts of grace, the power of faith, and the complicated and amazing ways in which my faith have shaped the ways I view ethnicity, race and gender and vice versa. Weren’t we all “fearfully and wonderfully made”? Won’t “a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language” be in God’s presence and glory?

So I go back to the memories of church – the sights, the sounds, the smells, and I am filled with gratitude for the gifts from the first generation.

I thank God for the experience of the first generation Korean church and:

  1.  the church’s additional role a cultural school for me. I learned about Jesus and I learned about being Korean. I learned to read and write (though only mastered both to a 2nd grade level) the only spoken language knew until I was in kindergarten. That basic foundation of the language connects me to a rich history and culture that I grew up experiencing through all of my senses. I learned Korean folk dancing that allowed my body to tell stories that I could not speak.
  2. the gift of liturgy and hymns. They were sung and spoken in Korean. It’s now my lost language, almost like a faint memory that still speaks to places in my soul and communicate nuances I can still only grasp in Korean.
  3. the community the immigrant church provided for my parents and their peers who displaced themselves for the promise of a better life.
  4. the community the immigrant church provided for me and my peers who had no choice in our displacement but needed a group of friends (and frienemies) who could relate to the bicultural experiences our parents could not help us navigate.
  5. the gift of faith because it was at church my parents’ faith was nurtured in their native tongue and where local Bible school students interned and shared the gospel with me in English. I still have the Bible given to me by my Sunday School teacher, John Bezel, and remember his willingess to learn about the Korean American experience as he shared about Jesus.

The Cost of Permanent Vanity

I’m vain. 

I tend to be an emotional and emotive person. I cry. Lots. A mentor once told me that 1.) she had never met anyone who cried as much as I did, and 2.) that my free-flowing tears for my own pain and that of others gave people permission to cry as well.

Which is why I got my tattoos – permanent eyeliner.

Yes, it hurt. A lot. But repetitive needle pokes on my eyelids were nothing compared to childbirth with no pain meds and then nearly bleeding to death. It’s all relative.

But I must say that spending a few hundred dollars to permanently “apply” eyeliner made me wrestle a bit with my own vanity, my values, my theology of makeup if you will. There are enough images in the media to argue away most everything I do in the morning to get ready for the day. Did I really want to permanently attach myself to a standard of beauty?

Buying a trendy piece of clothing is one thing. Buying a bottle of nail polish seems like a much lower level of commitment. Even hair color fades, and now the gray hairs are insisting on equal time as the drugstore box red #660. But a tattoo?

There have been plenty of beauty/vanity missteps. Um. 1988-1995 had several bad perms, cuts, close encounters with hairspray and gel, heavy handed makeup and MIA tweezers. (Seriously, why didn’t anyone tell me?!)

I tend to over-agonize about a lot of things. I have this tiny problem. I want to do the right thing the right way, and my moral compass tries to weigh many things simultaneously. Somehow I was able to make the decision and do it.

I don’t remember how long the tattoos took. The guy was meticulous, making sure the lines were even, the color just right. But immediately after the procedure, which sounded a little like being at the dentist’s office, I would have to describe it by paraphrasing a line out of “Good Hair”: I didn’t feel as beautiful as I thought I would. My eyes were puffy and then scabby. I looked as if I had been crying for days and then covered my eyes in antibacterial ointment.

Fortunately for me, after molting for a week my vanity had paid off.

A friend of mine confessed (and I use that word because that’s what it feels like sometimes when we share our deepest, most vain moments) she was curious about dyeing eyelashes. I’ve known other women who have lighter colored hair mention their addiction to mascara. We all have that one beauty product we’ve sold our souls to. Without it we feel washed out, unkempt, unfinished.

I don’t regret the permanent eyeliner, but it’s definitely a decision that makes me stop and think every day about how God sees me. God meets me everyday in the mirror when I skip the eyeliner and go straight for the lipgloss. Where in your vanity does God  me you?

Softening My Skin in a Mud Bath

My apologies to those who landed here because they were searching for information on skin care.

Zondervan’s decision to remove Deadly Viper Character Assassin and Mike & Jud’s decision to shut down their website is heating up the blogosphere once again. I’m concerned about the way some of these posts and tweets could be read – tone is a difficult thing to express well in the anonymous electronic world. And as many of us have learned during the past three weeks, the blogosphere can run pretty fast and furious. Right now there is a lot of mud being slung in all directions.

But one theme that has appeared in a variety of places has been the call to those who were offended (pick me, pick me) to grow, get, have “thicker skin”. The comment and admonition to get thicker skin is akin to saying “don’t be so sensitive” or “you’re choosing to be offended” – all of the interpretations lend itself to telling the offended person that this is their personal issue they personally have to overcome.

I don’t want thick skin, and I pray against that. Lately it’s been a daily prayer.

Literally speaking, skin is our largest organ providing protection, support and circulation (I helped Corban study for his science test). Healthy skin is able to do those things well. Unhealthy or damaged skin put the rest of the body in danger as sensory and circulatory abilities are hampered.

When I think of thick skin I actually think of dead skin that hasn’t been shed properly. The callous on my toe from those beautiful but painful new shoes. The gnarly cuticles that snag my most delicate sweaters. The tough skin on my elbows from resting on them too much when I have writer’s block. I scrub off the callous. I cut my cuticles (I know, you’re not supposed to do that. You’re supposed to push them back and put lotion on them to soften them.) I exfoliate my elbows. And then a moisturize like crazy to soften the skin so that it’s pliable.

I don’t want thick skin because honestly when I think of thick skin I think of elephants and their thick skin. Elephants are beautiful animals, but I don’t want to look like an elephant.

I don’t want thick skin because I do not believe God wants us to create a bigger barrier to feeling and engaging deeply with God and with one another. Our sinful natures make it tough enough. Adding more to the junk of our souls or covering it up with thicker skin isn’t going to help.

I pray for a tender heart and soft skin so that I can hear what God has to say to me, our community, our world in that pain. When someone offends me, brushing it off doesn’t allow for a sacred moment between me, the offender and God. Thick skin means I just “get over it” and move along. But what if God doesn’t want us to move on so quickly all the time? What if our attempts at getting over it just mean “it” never goes away?

There have been some nasty comments in reaction to the Deadly Viper situation – people assigning motive and intent, name-calling, etc. In some places it’s getting mean. If we all get a thicker skin I’m afraid we’ll never understand each other. And besides, Jesus didn’t tell people to get thicker skin. He didn’t tell the bleeding woman to stop being a victim and get over the social outcast thing.  

Issues of race, ethnicity and gender all involve tough conversations about power and privilege. I don’t like being called names. I don’t like being lumped together and being referred to as the “minority tail wagging the majority dog” (yup, that’s an actual comment on a blog). I don’t like being told to stop playing victim because I made some noise and the authors were the sacrifice (yup, that’s real too). But I suspect people who thought nothing of the initial outcry paid much attention because maybe they never had to. Maybe the anger and disbelief over the book being pulled and the authors shutting down the website has more to do with never having anyone tell them to get over themselves? See, it can get ugly and polarizing real fast. Thick skin will just keep us from going deeper. 

I’m not suggesting an over-the-top emotional response to everything in this world, but when the mud-slinging ramps up like it has our natural instinct is to duck…or throw more. But the mud has to land somewhere right? Maybe instead of ducking I need to sit in the mud a bit, get a little dirty and then let the mud soften my skin.

Saying Goodbye to the Green Card – I’m In the System

By Thursday I needed a break from the frantic and frenetic pace of being a present mom and wife, preparing for our region’s Black Campus Ministries student conference, and being the in the middle (but sometimes invisibly) of the Deadly Viper situation. I found myself relieved that I had to go my fingerprints taken for my citizenship application – some time to decompress in the car and then in the waiting area. Clearly you can understand that my state of mind was compromised.

I walked in and realized I could not run away. The male desk clerk looked at me (sisters, you know what kind of look I’m talking about, right?) that made me grateful I was holding my Bible in front of my chest. I took the form to fill out and sat down, only to find that FOX news was on the tv – closed-captioning running and the volume up. 

I couldn’t imagine anything louder than the tv, but then a conversation between a woman asking about the fingerprinting process and an INS officer took over the room. She was asking whether or not the office provided fingerprinting for a fee because her initial application was denied and she was hoping to move the process along by getting the biometrics done before a new application was completed. She spoke with an accent, and with every sentence I swear the INS officer raised his voice.

She would ask a question or make a comment, AND THEN HE WOULD SPEAK SLOWER AND LOUDER THAN HE DID A MOMENT AGO PERHAPS TO MAKE IT CLEARER. Apparently speaking louder and slower helps us non-Americans understand you better? I thought about saying something, but an internal filter kicked in and while I was having a conversation with myself in the silence of my head about speaking up and helping her and this LOUD INS OFFICER COMMUNICATE she left and I was up for fingerprinting.

I was imagining ink pads and paper, but clearly the US government has better technology – all computerized with no ink. It was a pretty cool thing to watch, but then I had this strange feeling. All of my personal information, including every ridge of my fingerprints was in the system. I am still not a US citizen, but the government knows about me.

It felt vulnerable in an uncomfortable, unwelcomed way as information about me was taken in an uninviting, uncomfortable way. I looked at the table where I had put down my purse and Bible. The government knows about me, but I had to remind myself that only God really knows me. He knew the ridges in my fingerprints even before I knew I wanted to become a US citizen. It comforted me in way I can’t explain in a moment where I felt completely uncomfortable in a way I can’t explain.

The government knows. But to God, creator of the universe, I am known.

And a random thought on efficiency – there ought to be a way to simultaneously apply for citizenship and a passport so that once citizenship is granted a passport is issued. Call me crazy.

A Direct Plea to My Guests Visiting From Angry Asian Man

When I asked my longtime friend Angry Asian Man to get the word out about Zondervan’s Deadly Viper Character Assassins material, I had a funny feeling my little blog here would get some traffic. Let’s just say I felt very popular.

But this isn’t about me. It’s about you. You may never come back to my blog, but the Deadly Viper website, book, dvds, etc. are still out there with mostly random Chinese characters strung together as a “cool” backdrop to an audience that, for the most part, can’t even read Chinese. And here is something pulled from the website:

There is a killer called Zi Qi Qi Ren. No, this is not some communicable disease, but it certainly is deadly. This funky Chinese word literally means “self deception while deceiving others.”

Well, I don’t speak Chinese. I speak Korean and there is this funky Korean word – “Bah-boh”, which literally means stupid. This gimmick and marketing ploy is stupid & ridiculous. It’s a stereotypical mishmash of all things cool and Asian, and the connection between honoring culture and promoting character and integrity gets lost.

It doesn’t honor Asian culture. And as a Christian it doesn’t honor my Christ. I don’t want to see this stuff out there. 

So, to the thousands of visitors from Angry Asian Man, please, please, please let your Angry voices be heard. Personally I have learned a lot from Angry Asian Man and his readers – activists who recognize the injustices in the culture and carried out by the powers that be with a desire to bring about change. I am a Christian. I have not always connected my faith into that type of action and concern. I have been humbled by your energy, passion, commitment and advocacy in the Asian American community and beyond. I am grateful for those of you who haven’t given up on your Christian friends who talk about God but fail to care for the poor, the orphans, the widows right in front of our faces. I’m sorry for the many years I carried around my Bible as if that was the only action of love I could take.

Eugene Cho, Soong-Chan Rah, Chris Heuertz, Nikki Toyama-Szeto &  yours truly – were on the conference call with authors Mike & Jud. Only four of us – Eugene Cho, Soong-Chan Rah, Ken Fong & I – were on that conference call with executives from Zondervan. I believe Zondervan is committed to hearing the concerns. Please help them hear. We need more voices clearly articulating your concerns with both the ethnic/cultural issues and the gender issues. We are committed to further conversations with the authors and Zondervan, but the bigger systemic issues involving how a major Christian publishing house does not understand how this material is not just offensive but contrary to the message of leadership and integrity it hopes to communicate needs more voices at the table.

Please send your comments and concerns directly to Zondervan c/o

jason.vines@zondervan.com


Saying Goodbye to the Green Card – Step 2 & of Course More Deadly Viper

There is another conference call set up for 9 a.m. CST Friday, November 6, with Zondervan execs. Eugene Cho, Soong-Chan Rah and I will represent.

What does Zondervan need to know/understand? What are the cultural and spiritual issues that need to be addressed in a profit-driven system?

Please discuss.

And previously scheduled was my trip to get fingerprinted. I got my study guide for the citizenship exam. I learned that I only have to study the questions with an “*” because I’ve been a legal alien resident for more than 20 years.

And I have to take an English test.

Stop laughing.

To Be a Gracious But Angry Christian Asian American Woman

I’m trying not to let all of this Deadly Viper stuff emotionally hijack me. Writing helps. Talking with “Kathy Khang husband” helps (btw, that is exactly the search engine term someone used). Praying helps.

I’m trying to muster up the courage to say something else about a situation that is already heated and complex without blind-siding anyone else, without derailing what could be a conversation in the making about the racial, ethnic and faith issues at hand, without sounding too angry, bitter, or in need of inner healing.

But can someone please tell me why pink frosted cupcakes, salads, Richard Simmons and pink Smart cars are girly which is code for “not manly” or akin to being wimps and wussies, which clearly are not adjectives any real man would want used to describe men?

Deadly Viper is NOT the first, last or only leadership development that uses what some would call a hyper-masculinity to appeal to men and their leadership. There are several male pastors who are calling out for men to be warriors, man-up, go to battle, etc. There is a shift in some circles arguing that the feminization of the Church is why men are failing to lead. Jesus as manly man.

But I make the connection here in the middle of all of this talk about culture, race, ethnicity and pain because it is in these conversations I often feel like I’m choosing first to be Christian Asian American and put the “Woman” on hold. It feels too complicated to simultaneously engage people across the divide in a conversation about racial stereotypes AND gender stereotypes. I don’t want my Asian American experience to be defined by ninja warriors, but the message here is so much more nuanced because there are parts of my Christian and Asian and American culture that try to silence my leadership.

Women and men are different. Yes! How can we speak respectfully of those differences, learn from one another and affirm one another without resorting to one of the worst insults a boy can throw at another boy at the playground: “You throw/hit/punch/run/laugh/cry like a girl”?

Just last week I heard a few men at the bowling alley ask me if I had a french maid costume for Halloween. Was that a man being a man in his public man-cave? If those men were just being stupid, isn’t it possible that all of this talk and imagery about real men versus chickified church boys could add unnecessary fuel to the fire?

I’m struggling here.  I am the mother of an amazing daughter and two amazing sons. This isn’t me ranting. I am feeling deeply the brokenness of our world as my kids sleep soundly tonight. How will the church lead in teaching both my daughter and my sons to be strong, effective, compassionate, gracious, courageous leaders? Can we do it without making fun of one another, without Kung Fu warriors fighting off pink cupcakes or salads?

Is anyone else bothered by this hyper-masculinity? Am I being too sensitive?

An Example of Leadership and Apology…Deadly Viper, Take Note

We’ll have to see if an actual conversation develops with Zondervan and the creators of Deadly Viper, but I thought it a bit ironic that part of the online conversation started out on the Deadly Viper blog on a post about saying “I’m sorry”.

It’s the “I’m sorry but that’s not what I meant” or the “I’m sorry if you were offended but that’s not what I meant” that hooks me. It’s not an apology. A comment like that teases me into believing we are going to move forward together, as painful as that might be, but then it goes nowhere fast.

Recently I came across a situation where that could have happened. And it didn’t. (UPDATED WITH DETAILS NOW) I’ll update this post with more details as soon as I have permission from those involved, but in the meantime I’ll paint a picture of what a genuine apology can do to move the body of Christ forward in conversations about race, ethnicity, leadership, integrity and mission.

We get a ton of prayer letters and ministry update/reports from various missionaries, mission organizations, Christian groups, etc. and we enjoy reading them and praying about the things we read about. But one photo in Harbor Point Ministries – the newsletter for Covenant Point and Covenant Harbor Bible Camps – caught my eye. It was a photo of a young man and young woman wearing those inflatable sumo wrestler costumes. Ugh. My initial reaction was one of anger and sadness, and then I replayed a common conversation in my head – Was I being too sensitive? Was I being too reactionary? Maybe I should let this one go?

I started an e-mail, but I let it sit. I read the e-mail and while I thought I was making my points I did not like my tone, or, at the very least, how my tone could have been read. I wanted to be understood in hopes of inviting conversation not just to make a point. The e-mail is still in my draft box because life got in the way.

But at someone’s urging, I shared my concern publicly at a Sunday School class I was leading on multiculturalism at my church, Libertyville Covenant Church, as an illustration of how different people with different life experiences will see things with a different lens and to open up a conversation about how different people may have viewed that same photograph and had completely different responses. I shared about my hesitation to say something because it can be exhausting to be “that” person all the time. I shared how my children all have had wonderful experiences at both Bible camps, but I was mortified at the thought of kids roaring in laughter over the “fat costume”. Someone listened.

Monday afternoon as the boys were getting settled in after homework and hangout time, I received a phone call. I did not recognize the name or number, but I picked up and was floored.

“Hi, Kathy. This is Dave Auker and I owe you and others an apology. I am so sorry. I am in charge of that publication and I take full responsibility.”

It was a brief conversation about the Evangelical Covenant Church’s efforts to better understand diversity and the ramifications of a photograph like the one with inflatable sumo wrestler costumes. What stuck with me was that the person in charge called, apologized, took responsibility, asked if I had questions and gave me some helpful information that I planned to bring to a phone conversation I wanted to make to the director of the camp.

And then all this Deadly Viper exploded. 

Wednesday afternoon I got another call. Ray Warren, executive director of Covenant Harbor Bible Camp & Retreat Center, was on the line.

“Kathy, I want to express our apologies. We’re terribly sorry for the offense and we want to learn from this. How can we be best positioned to welcome with open arms the growing church? Could you come talk to the the staff?”

I am humbled and energized. The past four days have been incredibly draining. I have felt empty as I lean into God’s truth to find voice as a Christian who is also an Asian American woman. We are one in Christ, carrying faith and life through the lens of culture, age, race, gender, socioeconomic status. We all make mistakes. We all do things that result in a different outcome than intended. We are broken people living in a broken world. But those two phonecalls reminded me leaders continue to learn, sometimes painfully, from others and from their mistakes. I long to be transformed into that kind of leader.

If Deadly Viper needs any more examples of leadership and character, take note. This should be one of them.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |