By Tina Teng-Henson

On June 7th, I convened a benefit concert for Altadena and Pasadena – 5 months after the Eaton Fires ravaged that part of southern California – out of obedience to the Holy Spirit. Here’s what I learned about the Lordship of Christ through the Altadena Benefit Concert (henceforth, ABC).

Jesus IS Lord. Jesus is LORD. He’s quietly at work, behind the scenes, making things happen, for his name’s sake. He assembled a group of musicians and creatives somehow, from San Luis Obispo, Walnut Creek, San Leandro, Palo Alto, Cupertino, Santa Clara, Morgan Hill, Mountain View, Rohnert Park, and Sacramento. He brought together civic leaders, community organizers, non-profit leaders, pastors, children, businessmen, practitioners of healing, stay-at-home fathers, and dancers. It was a little bit of heaven, here on earth, and the stories are still unfolding. 

By Melanie Mar Chow

As a campus minister, I spend time a lot of time in my car. I love to be on the open road, which takes me to the places where I can serve college students. Later, the drive home affords downtime to reflect upon what I experienced in my service and to ponder biblical truths God would have for me. Some questions I pondered recently during this time was, If Jesus is the Savior, why does He allow me and others to serve Him? Could he not just have people read the Bible, realize what is needed, and follow after Him?

On my recent drive to central California, I once again realized that if I didn’t have Spotify there are only language channels and Christian country music…this is what one must resort to when the drive involves 80+ degree heat and the cell phone overheats and cannot cool down.  Instead of becoming disgruntled, I decided to ask God to lead me to what He wanted me to hear. I prayed a quick prayer to get past the Christian country genre and instead listen to the next song’s lyrics. The next thing I knew I was listening to the following words:

By April Yamasaki

“Those are a couple of fire-on-the-mountain bushes,” the gardener said to me. She looked after the common areas of our townhouse complex — mowing the grass, pruning the bushes, and generally keeping the grounds looking healthy and well kept. But the garden area next to each townhouse was treated as personal property. Each household was to take care of their own garden. As a new resident, I decided to start by first asking the gardener to identify the different plants for me, and she was happy to oblige.  

Of course, I recognized the large rhododendron bush by the front door, and the roses at the side of the house. But the fire-on-the-mountain bushes — more formally called pieris japonica — were new to me. How aptly named, I thought, for most of their leaves were dark green, but the new growth was a brilliant red, topping the plant like fire on a mountain.

By Ajung Sojwal

Sometime in my early teens the Baptist church that I belonged to was swept up in a revival movement lasting months. Hour-long impassioned sermons of fire and brimstone for the unrepentant sinner blasted through the speakers and I found myself joining the multitude that answered the altar call to surrender my sin-soaked life to Jesus the Savior. In the presence of the elder praying for my soul I tried to dig into my memory all that remotely hinted of sin. I confessed about the time I sneaked into the movies while I needed to be in school, I confessed about the time I whacked my sister over a fight for something, I confessed about the lemon I plucked from our neighbor’s lemon tree without permission; the list was long and filled with everything any teenager testing the limits of her autonomy and wits would do.

As I sobbed for the wretchedness of my soul in need of the Savior, somehow I heard a wee voice within that dared to ask, “What kind of a God is this that keeps an eternal scoreboard of every mistake I make?” The Savior I met that afternoon in the revival tent nudged me to challenge the notion of a punitive god in the light of the Bible verse that says, “God is love.” It was the onset of my wrestling with God’s Word, my first conscious step on the journey with Jesus who continues to challenge me on the notion of a personal Savior. He has continued to elude my attempts to tame him enough to be on call to launder my sins; not that I don’t believe in Jesus as my Savior, but the question of “save me from what?” is still up for exploration. 

By Angela Ryo

One of the first songs I learned at church after coming to America was: “My Savior loves me, he died to save me; he lives in glory, my Lord and King!” By then, I was already a freshman in high school, and I had joined the praise band at church. 

Not even in my wildest dreams did I think I’d be on the praise team. That’s why when my Sunday school teacher asked me to join the praise band, I laughed out loud. I remember telling her, “But I don’t sing, and I don’t play any instruments!” She wasn’t fazed by my reply and said, “That’s okay! You’ll learn.” Then, I told her, “But I don’t even know if I believe in Jesus!” And she said, “That’s okay! That’s not a prerequisite.” So, I agreed to be on the praise band, not knowing what I’d be doing, because I had a huge crush on the cute leader of the band, who played the guitar like Jimi Hendrix (not really, but I was young and easily impressed)! And that’s what set me off on my journey to knowing Jesus as my Savior.  

By Julia Qiuye Zhao

Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved. –Acts 4:12

As a child, one question that preoccupied me was “Are you saved?” For most of us who grew up in Evangelical churches, this is no surprise. The answer was supposed to be straightforward: “Repent and accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior.” However, the problem was that although it was supposed to be one and done, I had trouble being really sure. Even when there was the Sinner’s Prayer, I could never be sure that I had meant it to the extent that was required for salvation. Discussions on this topic, from pastors, televangelists and others reinforced my uncertainty. Whenever the topic came up, they would say that if one was not sure, it would be better to make sure by praying the Sinner’s Prayer with them. And so I always did, just to make very sure. 

By Emi Iwanaga

“…in front of the throne there was what looked like
a sea of glass, clear as crystal.”
“Then I saw a Lamb, looking as if it had been slain, 
standing at the center of the throne…”
“Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth
 and under the earth and on the sea,
 and all that is in them, saying:
 “…and to the Lamb be praise and honor
 and glory and power, for ever and ever!”
 The four living creatures said, “Amen,” 
and the elders fell down and worshiped.”
Revelation 4:6, 5:6,13-14 NIV

THE SLAIN LAMB

Standing there on the Sea of Glass before the throne.
Humility because of the grace received
permeates my soul

Gazing upon the slain lamb before the throne.
Humility because of the sacrifice displayed
brings me to my knees

By Eunhyey Lok

Salvation throughout my life has meant different things.

In childhood, it meant memorizing Bible verses, showing up for Christmas pageant rehearsals, playing in the church orchestra, following the rules at church, home and school.

In my teen years, it became regular quiet times, youth retreats, not swearing, drinking or smoking. Not being afraid to admit I was a Christian when my friends scoffed at them.

In young adulthood, it meant realizing that I actually did believe what had been taught about the empty tomb. Believing it so much, I wanted to tell my neighbor’s cat Jesus was alive! (Can cats go to heaven?) But still living as if I had to work my way into God’s love and approval.

By Yuri Yamamoto

By All Means Possible
Jesus looks for his lost sheep

Once I saw him
In the eyes of a suffering man

Leaning on the church door
So as not to collapse under the weight of his depression

He looked up 
And whispered
“Please, Yuri…”

Jesus 
In this man’s desperate eyes 
Pleading for my understanding and compassion

By Sarah D. Park

I have missed the ways I used to meet God in community.

I remember what it used to feel like to have multiple hands reach out and touch my shoulders, my back, my head in solidarity as we knocked on the door of heaven in prayer. 

I remember what it felt like to feel the Spirit stir within me like an insistent nudge, laced by the smallest twinge of fear that only confirmed I had to get up and go get prayer.

I remember the thrill of discussing stories from the Bible with curiosity, wonder, and concordances.