We all have each had transcendent experiences of nature. Hiking meandering brown brushstrokes of dirt trails in the Redwood Forest walled by towering trunks of timber like giant pencils growing from the ground. Sights of geological phenomena like the lava red craters of the Grand Canyon or the steel blue rises of the Grand Tetons with bleached white toupees. Maybe like us, you have also been in the midst of preternatural landscapes that could only be matched by our childhood dreams of heaven. In those moments, we take a breath. A sigh of relief. It is as if creation talks to us in its sights and sounds, smells and textures. Creation affects us in its commanding equilibrium, grounding our souls to the rhythms and reverberations of peace. But it’s not the only way it communicates.

For the purposes of dissertation research, I spent the month of July in Hong Kong. In between the interviews, field observations, and analytical writing was, of course, a time of personal reflection on the very themes I pondered in my previous post: questions of tradition and personal history, of belonging and difference, of life trajectories disrupted by a fiercely independent God that cannot be defined or tamed and yet whose presence is ever familiar and compassionate.

Editor’s Note: This piece is sourced from the author’s sermon, Honor Your Mother and Father at Forefront Brooklyn on June 30, 2019.

Jesus was calling his disciples to turn from everything they’ve ever known about who belongs and who doesn’t, and that meant calling people who were enemies of the Israelites, brother, sister and sibling. It would mean showing deep and enduring love to them, and ministering to them – even if it meant breaking the religious law of working on the Sabbath. It would mean restoring shalom with them and moving towards the wholeness of humanity.

The Progressive Asian American Christians (PAAC) community is full of people who come from all walks of life, particularly the creative. After hearing that PAAC community member Yiann had recently released an EP, we reached out to them for an interview with us to learn more about their journey into writing and performing music, and how they are creating new liturgies for those who want to connect with faith through the musical form.

This outfit is the victory in a long war I’ve been waging with my Mom about church clothes. We’ve negotiated a tenuous compromise where I don’t have to wear a dress anymore, but I have to wear something that we both agree is “nice”.

Editor’s Note: This piece is sourced from the author's sermon, Honor Your Mother and Father at Forefront Brooklyn on June 30, 2019.

I think by my family’s standard, I am a total rebel. When I reflect back on my life growing up, I feel like I’d find any excuse to rebel against my parents, even if I didn’t do it on purpose. Just by nature, I went against most things they wanted me to do.

Sustainability consciousness does not come naturally in a culture of capitalism. Capitalism teaches us to master the art of taking from the land. It reinforces a consumer relationship with resources, automating a modus operandi within us that prioritizes accessibility, convenience, and affordability. It plants a seed of consumerism within us at such an early age, seducing our eyes with all the possibilities of what we can have and overwhelming us with the question “what do you want?” that when we finally realize that production of a thing comes at a cost, it is too late. Uprooting our lives is too unimaginable. And everything does come at a cost. Much of what we consume comes at a cost far too costly than what it is worth. What might not cost us in dollars may cost us the earth. Incorporating sustainability practices into our everyday is a practice of decolonizing our minds, and therefore, unbecoming colonizers of the land.