By Angela Ryo

Some years ago, at a retreat with my Korean American Presbyterian clergywomen, we were sitting around chatting about ministry when someone asked, “Where do you see the Spirit of God at work today?” It was the kind of question that made all of us pause to reflect on the Spirit’s work in our lives and ministries. 

One pastor, who had founded a domestic violence shelter, spoke up. She said she saw the Spirit of God in the stories the women could finally tell about themselves once they had been there long enough to feel safe. For so long, she explained, these women weren’t allowed to speak their own truth; their spouses had told them who they were, and over time, the lies became their prison. But when they found the courage to tell their own stories, something began to shift. They rediscovered their voices and remembered who they truly were. In that remembering, they were empowered to break the cycle of abuse.

That story stayed with me for over a decade because it reminded me that when someone finally speaks their truth after years of silence, healing takes place. 

I have come to believe that Jesus’ presence is woven into the stories we dare to share about our pain, struggles, and the hidden places we’ve carried alone. Yet, as Asian American women — especially those of us in ministry or leadership — we often minimize our own stories. We tell ourselves they’re not important enough, or that others don’t want to hear them, or that taking up space is somehow selfish. We learn to be cautious and considerate to the point of becoming invisible.

But if Jesus meets us through the stories we tell, if our lived experiences are places where his presence becomes visible, and if we truly believe Jesus is present in the stories and experiences we share, then how can we stay silent? 

After all, just imagine what we’d be missing without the stories of women in the gospels: 

• No Mary and Martha in their home with Jesus
• No Samaritan woman at the well
• No woman who had been bleeding for twelve years before she touched Jesus’ cloak
• No woman who anointed his feet with perfume and tears
• No adulterous woman before Jesus to be stoned (and forgiven!)
• No turning water into wine (because I mean, Jesus was just listening to his mother!) 
• No Annunciation or Magnificat, and therefore, no Christmas! 
• No women at Jesus’ tomb and no one to tell of Jesus’ resurrection, and thus no Easter! 

The list is not exhaustive, but the point is clear: Jesus’ presence is evident in all these stories we tell and read. Their stories reveal who Jesus is; their voices carry the presence of God.

And perhaps that is still true now.

Lately, whenever I openly share about grief, exhaustion, joy, parenting, or ministry — whatever I happen to be carrying — someone almost always comes up afterwards to say, “Thank you. I thought I was the only one.” At that vulnerable moment, I sense something sacred unfolding between us. Jesus tends to show up in those honest moments, especially when women speak truths they’ve kept tucked away inside for so long.

The older I get, the more convinced I become that our stories are not detours from the spiritual life; they are the spiritual life. They are the threads through which God’s presence becomes visible, not in grand miracles but in the small acts of courage in naming the truth of who we are.

Our stories matter because our lives matter to God. We can trust that the things we’ve lived through and those we’re still living through are not signs of failure but of God’s presence weaving us together in grace and love. 

So, how are you welcoming the presence of Jesus by sharing your story today?

Angela Ryo currently serves as Pastor at Westminster Presbyterian Church in Munster, IN. She enjoys taking long walks, reading, listening to NPR, and drinking good coffee with friends and strangers alike.