By Ajung Sojwal

It’s now twelve days of a two-week visit to my parents in Nagaland, India. Conversations left unfinished the last time I visited them a year ago picked up as if we had merely been interrupted by the deafening sound of an airplane flying overhead. Life has changed no doubt since the last time I was here. My parents seem older, there’s been a couple of deaths within the extended family, cousins have gotten promotions in their jobs, there’s better Wi-Fi connectivity and there are taller and bigger buildings all around.

As I sat with one of my cousins catching up on the many relatives and mutual friends we know, I was struck by how often the phrase “he/she hasn’t changed at all” came up. The phrase could be the best compliment or the worse indictment about someone depending on who we were talking about. It got me wondering what change looks like and feels like within me. 

By Angela Ryo

Happy New Year, everyone! We just celebrated Epiphany last Sunday, and I have to say, it’s one of my favorite Sundays. Epiphany comes from the Greek word that means “to reveal.” It’s the celebration of divine revelation and all the ways in which God reveals Godself to us and transforms us. I believe seeking for God’s revelation is one of the ways in which we live a Spirit-led life.

We have entered a new year. We know very little to nothing about what this year holds for us. We seek for God’s revelation. And that’s probably why we have New Year’s resolutions — to guide us through the new year and hopefully open our eyes to God’s revelation. But are New Year’s resolutions really an effective guide for us?

By Leona Chen-Wong

When I entered college, it was a whirlwind of uncertainties, decisions, and the constant fear of missing out or fear of making wrong decisions. As an international student, the weight of choosing the right path felt heavier and steeper, with the need to learn the new environment, and new systems around me, and make new friendships. The stress of controlling every aspect of life became overwhelming, leading me to a pivotal prayer: “Lord, I give you my ‘yeses’ to the plan you have for my life. Would you show me your good and perfect will for this world and let me be part of it?”

There were no thunderous revelations or crystal-clear plans unveiled. Instead, a profound peace settled within me as I relinquished the reins of my life to the God I know to be all-knowing, all-powerful, and wholly loving. In the wake of this surrender, a series of what seemed like coincidental moments began unfolding, effortlessly guiding me toward the right people and faith opportunities that shaped my journey in ways I couldn’t have orchestrated on my own.

By Joy Wong

Greetings to you all this morning — the first day of 2024! I hope this morning finds you all well, with hope and expectancy for what the Lord shows us this year.

Each year, we choose a new set of themes to blog about, and while brainstorming what themes to choose, a suggestion came to blog on the fruit of the Spirit. I dismissed the idea quickly, thinking surely in the last 15+ years that our blog has been in existence, we’ve already covered the fruit of the Spirit! But I was wrong. Scrolling back through past blogs starting from when we first began, using the search function in vain, I found mentions here and there on the fruit of the Spirit, but no reflections that we have done as a collective.

This Christmas, we wish you all the comfort and joy only Christ can give this holiday season.

We are so thankful for you all and look forward in hope as we continue to share our stories and faith journeys with each other in the new year!

By Millie L. Kim

When our country was founded in 1776, our country’s motto was E pluribus unum, (out of many, one). Not only are we many, we also differ and disagree. Differences are the reality of life then and now.  There are racial differences, cultural differences, economic differences, theological differences, political differences, educational differences, personality differences. Indeed, we are many (pluribus) and we are different! 

How do we navigate these very real differences and live together? I say, the answer is tolerance. It is easier said than done, I know.  We Americans have not lived that out very well. Being tolerant does not mean being indifferent, living a parallel life (segregation and non-interaction), or putting up with. Tolerance in its core is human sanctity and equality.

By Charissa Kim Allen

“Pain that is not transformed is transferred.”

This is one of my favorite quotes. I love that it acknowledges the inevitability of pain in our lives. I love that it challenges us to acknowledge the consequences of emotional pain left unchecked. And I love that it gives hope that we can do something transformative with pain instead.

Growing up, I did not know how to look my emotional pain in the eye — in other words, I couldn’t tolerate painful emotional states. I took it as a compliment when others would label me as “chill,” “nice,” and “easygoing.” As the senior pastor’s daughter of a megachurch, I internalized many eyes on me, high expectations to be perfect, and many internal alarm systems to prevent rocking the boat. I learned at an early age that, in order to maintain this perfect status quo of pleasing my environment, I must not be emotionally reactive, at least to the public. “Negative” emotions such as anger, disappointment, and hurt were therefore not allowed to exist. 

By Eunhyey Lok

When I consider the possible nuances of the word tolerance, or its verb form — to tolerate — they are almost entirely negative. Tolerance indicates putting up with, or enduring something unpleasant, undesirable, or unacceptable. It indicates unwillingness and reluctance toward the thing (or person) being tolerated. 

Webster’s first definition of tolerance is the “capacity to endure pain or hardship”. There is something hopeful and resilient about this definition, that goes beyond the associations I have with the word. My body is intolerant of milk, but I tolerate its effects because of the delight I take in its flavor. My son may be growing intolerant of his mother as he careens toward adolescence, but he still tolerates me because he knows I cherish and love him. 

By Yuri Yamamoto

On August 7, 2012, I flew back to Japan from the U.S. to see my father die. After he was diagnosed with a myelodysplastic syndrome in June 2011, I traveled to Japan several times. These trips brought me closer to my roots I had abandoned in 1984.

I heard about my father’s terminal diagnosis while grappling with my sudden urge to connect with Japan and Japanese people after the Great East Japan Earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear disaster. I was reading and watching numerous Japanese news and commentaries, reaching out to my family and friends, volunteering to translate radio interviews, and organizing charity events for the victims. Almost three decades of denial and avoidance of my roots seemed to have vanished overnight. I also experienced a racial identity crisis, in which I realized that my dream of becoming a real American — white — would never materialize.

By Sarah D. Park

I know that in a few years from now, I will look back upon this fall of 2023 and wave it off as a particularly difficult season in my life. My recollection of the details of that difficulty will fade. My body will not remember the acuity of the pain. In a few years from now, I know that I will have arrived to that fuzzy state of nostalgia where I get to say, “It wasn’t as hard as it sounds.”