By Jerrica KF Ching

Reading April’s reflections a couple weeks ago on her work as a lead pastor during challenging moments when she was uncertain as to what to do resonated deep within me and caused a surprising emotional reaction.  The tears that welled up in my eyes indicated to me that April’s words were incredibly validating and provided a strong sense of community and belonging.  As a mental health therapist, I can understand having to support others moving through strong emotions such as grief towards healing, while I am simultaneously processing an ordeal.

In January of 2020 I had received my adjunct faculty contract offer to be a supervisor for a graduate school’s counseling program.  At this point I had already been supervising for one year and was accustomed to driving to campus and providing clinical supervision to a group of 10 students who were currently in their clinical internship.  I felt confident with this new avenue of my career, and there was something very purposeful about upholding the integrity of the profession by instilling it in upcoming cohorts.

Then of course as we all know, February of 2020 began a very, very, very long process of our sense of normalcy in all aspects of life being torn down and rebuilt.  All the classes in this counseling program pivoted to a virtual setting, and the majority of the questions I received from students were, “How do we be effective therapists when we were taught how to provide therapy in person?”  I wanted to tell them, “I have no idea.”  Perhaps it was my pride that prevented me from saying the truth, because here was a situation where I was being viewed as the expert, who would know what to do in this situation.  But I didn’t.  Nobody knew what to do in this situation.  Nobody would know that our virtual setting would last years.  It was vicariously impacting me in my own work with clients.  There were new ways of navigating how to maintain someone’s attention virtually while still feeling as though I was doing “enough” and navigating technical issues that would occur randomly during the height of someone’s tears or frustration and needing them to repeat the last thing they said. 

I can distinctly recall being asked by students and clients alike, “what are we supposed to do?” to manage their stress, anxiety, and depression, caused by the loss of social connection, increase of financial stress, and fears that this would last forever.  I knew I didn’t know the answer to that.  Similarly, to April’s sentiments from last week, I knew I was not God.  Therapists do not have all the answers.  Teachers do not have all the answers.  We move alongside people on journeys because we have gifts that God trusts us with to lead people, but we ourselves are not God.  A verse from Proverbs also resonates with me this week, as a reminder that while we can be gracious for our gift of leadership from God, there needs to always be room for humility – “When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom.” (Proverbs 11:2).

With that being said, I will continue to use my gift, and I will continue to find joy within challenging and difficult times.  For I know that God will lead us through any circumstance, even ones that last far longer than anyone anticipates.

Jerrica KF Ching grew up on the island of Oahu, Hawaii and currently lives in the beautiful state of Washington, working as a licensed mental health counselor and Asian/Pacific Islander mental health specialist, working with children, teens, and adults within the AAPI community. She graduated with an MA in Marriage, Couple, and Family Counseling from George Fox University, where she is now an adjunct professor and supervisor. Her research on racial colorblindness has been published in The International Journal of Social Science Studies.