I don't know if I ever was an Evangelical.
My parents got saved at a Chinese Baptist church, the first in their lineage to convert, in part because as new immigrant parents in a foreign land (where they had come for graduate school), they were seeking Truth-with-a-Capital-T in how to raise a child (me) in ways that both transcended and integrated their Taiwanese and American cultures.
When I was 4, they switched over to a mostly white Congregational church, and 3 years later, a Chinese Pentecostal fellowship, which was very house-church in feel and spiritual heritage. 3 years after that, we moved on to a multi-ethnic Charismatic church, where the leadership consisted of 7 married couples of all races, and where the wives preached as often and as powerfully as their husbands. I saw miracles, healing, and all sorts of Holy Spirit things--it was called the "Toronto Blessing." But I always preferred to worship in stillness, even with all the activity around me.
Throughout these church experiences, there was a thread of Conservative and Fundamentalist homeschooling culture that ran strongly in my nuclear family. I was homeschooled for 8 years of my life, which is highly unusual for someone who looks like me, living in a very Asian-American-populated school district. So, wherever I've gone, and even around others who look like me, I've always felt like an outlier.
As an introvert, I learned to observed people, and as a woman of color, I learned to code switch in order to make whomever I was with comfortable--adopting turns of phrases and mannerisms that suited whatever context it was.
Fast forward to my teen years: we attended an Asian American Evangelical church, and in college, I was actively involved in a fellowship with Southern Baptist roots. Things fell apart when I was 25 and about to get engaged with a wonderful human with a strong church community. I began to have mystical experiences, and to feel both highly uncomfortable and also very at home in our fellowship (which was, like in another part of my life, a house-church-and lay-led group).
This was not a new feeling, and has been the case all along. In fact, the first time I "left" church and God was at age 17. Then again at 21. Then again at 26 after leaving that church community and relationship. Then again in my early 30s, after seminary and another almost-engagement with another wonderful human with a strong church commitment.
During seminary, I was part of a Vineyard church (where I met this wonderful human being) and felt called to be a "bridge" between black students and white students on campus. Every day, I went to chapel services that were much more ecumenical and liturgical than my Sunday church. I often visited other churches on weekends as well.
During this time, I felt called to confront evil with radical love and first became "woke" during that time. I often shared that I was willing to follow Jesus wherever he led me. Some days, now that I'm looking back, it feels like Jesus led me right to the gates of hell and back.
Honestly, if it were not for black pastors and theologians whom I looked up to, I would have felt even more disillusioned with an American Christianity that has been so complicit in racism and misogyny. I also felt very triggered by language that referred to God in exclusively male language.
Currently, Journey On is the most "Christian thing" I am involved in. Many days, it's actually easier not to identify as a Christian, and to sense the vibes of the Universe rather than pray to Jesus. This may sound a bit funny, but I'm being quite serious about it.
While in certain seasons, I really saw myself as the Bride of Christ, as part of the wider Church, and resonated with and had mystical experiences around the phrase, Your Husband is Your Maker, seminary (both my master's and now my doctorate) has radicalized my views to the point where God is not male, God is not all-powerful, and Jesus can be interpreted as an idol in certain contexts (according to something called Process Theology). So as you can imagine, that has messed with most of my prior and powerful and personal ways of being spiritual.
Prior to pandemic, the only type of church service I could stomach was Unitarian Universalist. I was a part of contemplative groups at my seminary where Jesus was not necessarily a part of the experience, explicitly at least. In one of those groups, we witnessed a healing miracle with a woman who just for so many years could not have any breakthrough in a Christian setting. This opened my eyes to the fact that spirituality was so much wider than faith.
During pandemic, and during these current times of awakening and reckoning in terms of systemic and racial injustices. my interfaith work has been my vehicle for expressing my convictions--I have found participating in and planning interfaith prayer vigils to be powerful and meaningful. I get chills when I hear prayers from other faiths and I feel my full self in that context.
I would say that Jesus was my way in to the contemplative. During childhood homeschooling days, my dad taught us how to meditate using the Book of John. The Psalms helped me process feelings in the presence of God. And as a Pentecostal, I learned stillness and the Spirit through prayer meetings.
I feel closest to God when I serve as a Chaplain. There, I do not get triggered, and I can pray with and for patients in whatever their love language is, even if it is much more Christian or Evangelical than mine. I also sense Divine presence strongly with patients who do not claim any sort of spirituality beyond their own humanity.
So why am I here, in Journey On? The initial impetus was my friendship with Grace and Dave, and my introverted preference for Zoom. As someone who in other spaces interacts primarily with people of color, this is also where I have meaningful friendships with a majority "white" community. Certain cultural aspects and lingo still feel familiar, from my Vineyard days, so in a way it's somewhat of a comfort zone for me. And it's probably the most "Christian" thing I do...and the most explicitly Jesus-centered part of my life.
Those of you who have prayed with me may know that I still do it, I still believe in it, and I still invest in it within a community. But when it's just me at home, I do the contemplative, and Jesus is not necessarily (explicitly) at my side. The God of the Universe is so much more present to me than the Jesus of Christianity. She seems much less fraught and more compatible with other ways of being, outside religious frameworks, even the progressive ones. I can't seem to access Jesus without being around Christians. So perhaps that is why I am here. This, for me, is the last frontier before leaving not just Christianity, but Jesus himself.
(Written in preparation for sharing my story at a steering team for an online contemplative group that meets every Wednesday--and plans every other Tuesday. I will be reading this on 8/11/20)
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