My Asian identity and my faith

One year ago, I could care less about Asia.

I mainly attribute it to the shared consciousness I shared with my Asian friends growing up of painful reprimands for low grades and an extremely materialistically-driven performance mindset (become a doctor, engineer, wealth = success, etc). It hurt me so much because as I grew up loving the arts alongside my artist grandfather who took care of me while my parents were working their silicon valley jobs. He's guide my hand through sketching exercises and I'd spend countless hours on our patio scribbling along the path of my mind's canvas. So when I faced the non-artistic expectations that my Asian heritage had so piously worshipped, I was deeply hurt. "Why can't I love math? Why do I love the arts? Why can't my passion for the arts extend into my profession?" My young head was filled with these sorts of frustrations.

To be more honest, I had little regard for my South Korean heritage. I detested the Korean homogeneous Burberry/Von Dutch/highlighted Asian perm images that seemed to define my ethnic background because they were signals saying "I am Korean." But I wasn't proud of my cultural values - it made me ashamed to identify myself as Korean. Whenever people asked me if I was Korean, I would say off-handedly that I was an "American" (except during the world cup. Korea was doin work). I took special pride in my western upbringing, my colorless ethnic identity; not "white," not quite Korean - I was an American. I never wished I was Caucasian; I just didn't like the idea of being categorized into an umbrella identity because all the stereotypes that came with these ethnic classifications seemed so fake. I just wanted to be real, to let people know that before I am a Korean-American, I am a human being. I guess this is part of the reason why I have a great deal of compassion for misunderstood people and counter cultures that defy cultural stereotypes (keep in mind - I dont like the idea of causing controversy for controversy's sake/ attention). I believed deeply in the social deviant's message: when you strip away everything, we all look the same - we're human beings.

To be fair, I'm not trying to champion a special commentary on race relations as if I were some expert (if there is truly is such a thing); I'm just sharing my experience. The reason I bring all this to the table is to underline my passionate respect and hunger for authenticity. I just wanted to be real with myself and others, and when possible, to spend time with real people likewise. I didn't want to fake my passion for the arts for the sake of upholding the Asian expectations from my heritage. I'm just deeply drawn to authentic people.

And this is a testimony to the power of God to change a stubborn heart for something greater than its own concerns:

Over the past year, there has been a change in my heart that I can't express. The best way I can describe it is that God had taken the thoughts, opinions, and preconceptions I had previously made and sculpted them towards the way he views Asia: beautiful. Though I had my doubts about Asian culture, there was a certain beauty that began to emerge in Asia that I loved: a passion and desire for an authentic encounter with God.

and authentic encounter!

The great thing about love is that it is by definition authentic. You can try to fake love for a while, but eventually, you can't because it is so costly to really love someone or something. You really have to purely adore and devote yourself despite any pain that may come along to something you truly love. The greater thing about love is God's ability to express it. I cant sum up the teeming expression in my spirit about how completely sweet, kind, patient, and pure God's love is, but I will say that upon seeing it through an up-close-and-personal relationship with him, understanding and basking in his love is so magnificently breath-taking, that it inspires and compels men to lay their lives down for it. I had my negative preconceptions about God formed by observing the painful christian hypocrisy that seemed so prevalent, but God broke through my pride and showed me who he really is - He is love. He is John 3:16. He is Corinthians 13. He is totally irresistible, pure, and attractive; authentic in every way. Before having a real relationship with God, I felt like a hammer trying to do a screw driver's work - something was out of place and I knew that I wasn't doing what I was made to do nor receiving any sense of fulfillment. But after making a decision to follow him wholeheartedly, I finally feel like I'm nailing it.

Sorry for the tangent, but it was important because as I watched videos of thousands of broken-hearted youth sprinting to the altar in Indonesia, hungry-for-more Taiwanese youth weeping in worship before the Lord, and many other striking images, I recognized that in their hearts, they felt the same lovely adoration and desire for God that I had felt in my most intimate moments with Him. I realized the sting of my pride and decided to lay it down as I finally saw the beautiful attraction to the Lord in my Asian brothers and sisters overseas. Many of these Asian countries are marked with turmoil and poverty, but their suffering had born good fruit in them - to hunger for the deeper things unreachable to the jade-hearted in the West. In my heart, I longed for the same thing to happen here in America, and I bore deep reverence for their spiritual hunger.

The contemporary stirrings in Burma, Thailand, China, N/S Koreas, Taiwan, Indonesia, and others are riddled with God's momentum. It excites me in a strange way, and for the first time ever, I can honestly say that I feel a longing to be there. I wish to be a part of what God is doing in these times, and I see him doing a wonderful thing in the hearts of the those in my motherland.

Lord, my heart burns for what you are doing in Asia! Thank you for making me Asian!

BJP

growing up, wanting more

This space is collecting major dustage. I used to crank out 5 entries a month! and now I'm barely writing one. Man of few words? No - I'm just feeling pretty spent - the growing pains of graduation, full time employment, etc; my responsibilities are getting stacked. but I most not grow faint. must. keep. writing!

It's so easy to get your wings clipped here in America - I know this because I'm feeling the shears against my own feathertips. My friend Grace says that we "live in America off of credit" and this is true. When it's so easy to buy something with money we dont have, it's no wonder we say to ourselves "why not?"

But there's something much bigger at play here - bigger than just a simple spending problem. In our hearts, we have this vast empty space - a vacuumed emptiness constantly eating away at our content.

But this emptiness isn't a monster, it's a tune. It's a rhythm that we march to, dictating every step we take in life - every credit charge, every loan, every purchase.

I love the feeling of buying something new. There's something awesome about putting on a fresh new pair of jeans, setting up a new phone, or tuning up a new drumset. And the bigger the toy, the greater the joy. There's a certain car that I've set my eyes on recently. "Why not?" I asked myself, "I can afford it." I often imagine myself in it, cruising down the street in its pearly metallic frame - fully-loaded, fully bad-assed. My current car is what most people might call a major bag of suck - a double salvage title '02 Hyundai Accent (yeah, I know. Hyundai.). It hurts to look at its unpainted after-market bumper and dangling driver's side fender. It feels so wrong whenever I have to crank down my janky window or sheepishly ask the passenger to manually lock the door. like breaking a man-law. But at the end of the day, she is faithful in getting me from point A to point B. no major mechanical problems, just ugly as hell. Maybe this whole car thing is just my inner man crying out for a sick set of wheels.

Or maybe it's a hungry heart, crying out to be filled.

Professor says that consumerism is a mainstream trend in America. Appropriately named, we "consume" valuable goods to assimilate their worth, making them our own. We sign the multi-million dollar mortgages, sign up for more credit cards than we can handle, and fill our homes with more and more stuff - because of our fascination with the novelty of owning something valuble. We accept this habit because it's "necessary." We need to feel good. We need something to make the desire inside go away. But this story ends sadly - we become consumed by our own products. And pretty soon, our financial commitments to our lenders become ball and chain; Wing-clipped, empty-hearted bluebirds singing swan songs.

Not all the sex, money, nor achievements in all the world could fill the gaping hole in our heart. After all, its a hole in the HEART, not in the pocket.

As kids, we were given a few bucks to steward wisely. Not much as changed since then. Just the number of zeroes behind the paycheck. I remember posing for pictures as a child with my mushroom-top and gap-toothed smile as I stretched out a two-dollar bill in the air. But it wasn't the money that made me smile. It was my Dad standing proudly behind the camera.

With that, I leave you with one of the few profound and reliable statements I've written when I was a 16-year-old looking forward. His wisdom will be of much use to me.

"I believe the chief desire of every man is to be loved unconditionally, and after my long search, I have only found it within God who offers it freely and readily to those who will love him in return."

Stay young, give much, live FREE.

BJP