Brendan Ji-Kwong Lui 雷智權/지권

My father and I both wrote some reflections on my son’s name… In a name are stories, there are prayers, there are hopes… and hopefully instead of marking boundaries to his identity, they will mark a starting place for Brendan to discover who God created him to be!

From Grandpa: (Yeh Yeh)

Expecting you, my first grandson, in a few days; some thoughts on the name chosen for you: Brendan Ji-Kwon Lui (雷智權).  Daniel and Diane chose the name Brendan for you.  A Ireland saint, year 484-577.  A prayer or poem from Celtic Daily Prayer, Part XVI:

Lord, I will trust You,

Help me to journey beyond the familiar and into the unknown

Give me the faith to leave old ways and break fresh ground with You

Christ of the mysteries, can I trust You to be stronger than each storm in me?

Do I still yearn for Your glory to lighten on me?

I will show others the care You’ve given me.

I determine amidst all uncertainty, always to trust.

I choose to live beyond regret, and let You recreate my life.

I believe You will make a way for me and provide for me, if only I trust You and obey.

I will trust in the darkness and know that my times are still in your hands.

I will believe You for my future, chapter by chapter, until all the story is written.

Focus my mind and my heart upon You, my attention always on You without alteration.

Strengthen me with Your blessing and appoint to me the task.

Teach me to live with eternity in view.

Tune my spirit to the music of heaven.

Feed me, and, somehow, make me obedient count for You.

雷 (Lui) is your last name.  Lui is a Hong Kong phonics translation for 雷.  雷 is the Chinese word for thunder.  It is made up with two words:雨 (rain) and 田 (field).  When it rains on the field, thunder follows.  Rain is an atmospheric (heavenly) event.  Field (more accurately fields for farming or planting) is a human endeavor.   Water (or climate)  from heaven and human’s management on earth will be a focus in your generation.  Like your last name, you inherit the world that you are in.  Pray that you will have impacts to bring what’s happening in the heavenly and direct earthly endeavors together to bring many positive benefits to your generation.  

The Chinese name that I picked for you, 智權, are wisdom and power which is two of the 7 things that the angels crying out to ascribe to the Lamb (in Revelations 5:122 as well as 7:111): Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain, to receive power 權能(or authority) and wealth and wisdom 智慧 and strength and honor and glory and praise!

智 means wise.  Together with 慧 (which is part of your grandmother’s name), 智慧 is wisdom.  智 is made up with three Chinese words: 矢(arrow) 口(mouth) 曰 (day); and 知 is to know or knowing.  矢 is arrow.  It represents intentionality, purposeful, and straight without departing from the path.  May your life be purposeful and always be straight with the Spirit without departing from His path. 口 is mouth or speaking or telling.  Together with 矢 is 知 or knowing.  To know is to tell or to teach.  Your mother is a teacher, your father is a minister of the Word.  To truly know the Word (Jesus Himself) is to tell of His purpose and to teach all to observe His teaching.  May you learn well from your parents to tell and to teach.  曰 (day) is sun, the day time, or daily.  May you be more than knowing, but walk with what you know daily.  May your wisdom be above what is known in your days.  Wisdom is making wise choices or decisions or counseling.  In my worldly training, wisdom is built from knowledge; knowledge is built from information; and information is built from data.  In your generation, all these will be key factors for your everyday life…  But let your wisdom excel and beyond these worldly approaches and let your wisdom start with the fear of the Lord.  (A related word for 智 is 痴.  That is a malfunction of the mind.  Don’t be obsessed with just knowing.  But be single minded to God.)

權, or power / authority come with one’s identity.  Matthew 28:18 already declared that all authority has been given to Me (Jesus) in heaven and on earth.  I bless you to know the Lord who has all authority early in your life.  Accept His call and take on the identity of a son of God, one of Jesus’ disciples, and one who is full of His Spirit.  Then you will take on the power and authority that come with that unshakable identity!  

權 was a wood that make the Chinese scale with markings to indicate the proper weight.  It implies to judge what is the right measurement.  The word evolved to mean the power to make the right judgment; as well as the ability to make the right balance or plan of action.  The word is made up with 4 parts: 木 (wood), 2 十(anything to do with grasses or plants), 2 口, and 佳 (good).  Eugene’s interpretations of the word 權: the scepter before all plants (2 十), all that has a mouth (all living things), and all that is good.  May you have mastery over all of God’s creations in order to bring good to what He has created!  

Brendan is a call to live a life of a voyage for God and never settle with what’s already there.  Stay curious and explore beyond!  雷 is what you inherited.  智 is what you must work on to acquired.  權 is given with your identity, title, or position.  Your English phonics of your Chinese name is Korean.  You will be uniquely placed by God in your generation, your place, and your people for a special purpose in His Kingdom.  As you are about to come into this world, may His will be done on you on earth as in heaven!

From Dad (Ba Ba):

Son, your grandfather has so elaborately and beautifully written about the meaning of your name. I wanted to add a couple thoughts on the meaning of your name.

Brendan: This name tells the story of our family. This is the name of an Irish Catholic saint who felt the mysterious calling of God to go in search of the “promised land of the saints”. 

Before baba met your mother, he was feeling tired and bitter after almost 10 years of ministry and went on a sabbatical. During his sabbatical, he went to a retreat in Northumbria, where a spiritual director had him read about St. Brendan- as someone who followed after God’s calling even when it didn’t make sense. After those days in Northumbria, baba went on a 40 day journey on the Camino de Santiago where he and God prayed, argued and fought… But by the end of the trip, baba heard God remind him how much he loved him, and that loving someone isn’t always taking someone to easy places, but that at the core of it all, real love is about being WITH God, and that His presence is what brings real rest. God was inviting baba to go to people that God loved because God loved baba and wanted to be with baba. Knowing that helped baba say yes to following God into the unknown like St. Brendan. 

Baba wants you to know that the loving presence of God is where we find true rest, and it is only in God’s loving presence that we can have courage. 

When baba and umma met, we had to consider not only life together, but to follow God in mission to Salinas to join God in loving the college students in Monterey and Santa Cruz counties. We had  to make sure we did not pressure each other, but that we each chose on our own to respond to God’s love so that we could respond together. Through the generations, our family has been like Brendan- with your grandparents on both sides taking off to the foreign shores of America from both Korea and Hong Kong, and then with your parents deciding to follow Jesus to Salinas and Monterey. But in each of these journeys, they have all led back to Jesus, no matter the geographic location. In the geography of the heart, in every generation, we are all pilgrims on a journey to our real home- His loving presence. 

We don’t know if you will journey to distant lands or stay in one place during your life, but we pray that you will find that the true promise land is in the presence of our loving God- and oh how He loves you so much! We will probably always be learning how to love you, but His love will always be there for you through all these journeys of life before you! 

This was St. Brendan’s famous prayer that both Umma and Baba found ourselves praying:

“Help me to journey beyond the familiar 

and into the unknown.

Give me the faith to leave old ways

and break fresh ground with You.

Christ of the mysteries, I trust You

to be stronger than each storm within me.

I will trust in the darkness and know

that my times, even now, are in Your hand.

Tune my spirit to the music of heaven,

and somehow, make my obedience count for You.”

AMEN.

Ji Kwon: Your YehYeh chose this name, and your Hal-abeojim and Halmoeni translated it to Korean. Your Yeh Yeh wrote beautifully about this part of your name. For your mom and dad- while some of this name tells your story- it is also our prayer for you. 

This name has been translated so many times! It is the English alliteration of the Korean, and the Korean is the translation from your name in Chinese (Ji Kun) for “Wisdom Authority”. That name comes from the verse in Revelations 7:12, which was originally written in Greek! 

Your name represents the distances and cultures your family has come from… from Korea and Hong Kong, and then to America. You are a multicultural child- not part Korean, not part Chinese, not part American, but FULL Korean, FULL Chinese, FULL American. These are all fully your heritage to take hold of and to worshipfully be in awe of how God has created each of them and mended them together within you. 

The verse where your name comes from is a worship song to the Lamb of God. The context of this verse is a vision that John has of the heavenly courts. Before this chapter, in Chapter 5, everyone in the heavenly courts is waiting for the one worthy to break the seals of a royal scroll. But John begins to weep because nobody is found worthy to open the scroll. But an elder turns to him in the vision and says, “Do not weep! See the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the root of David, has triumphed. He is able to open the scroll and its seven seals.” When the reader sees this, they are expecting a mighty lion to appear… but in a jarring turn, the “Lion” appears as a mortally wounded lamb. This is the paradox of the Kingdom of God- that the first shall be last and the last shall be first. That God will use the weak to shame the proud. 

It is this slain lamb that the heavenly court worships in the verse where your name comes from (Revelation 7:12):

“Amen!

Praise and glory

And wisdom and thanks and honor

And power and strength

Be to our God for ever and ever. 

Amen!”

What I find so moving about this verse is that the one they are worshiping and praising as “wise” and “powerful” is not the one who appears as a powerful cosmic lion, but is a weak and wounded lamb that looks like foolishness to the world. 

You come into the world during a time in history where “wisdom” and “authority” mean such different things than what the Kingdom of God describes. We pray that your life will be marked with discernment of real wisdom and real authority- and that you would find it in Jesus, the slain Lamb of God. We pray that like your baba and your umma try to do, that you would live your life as an act of worship to the true God, the Lamb that was slain. 

A prayer:

I am praying that in your life, you would experience the enduring love of Jesus. 

That you would know the story of God’s love that your family is caught up in, and that you would be able to experience that love in new ways. 

That you would find your true home and family in Jesus. 

That you will see the symphony of the cultures within you in all their collective fullnesses. 

That you would be able to recognize the Lion of Judah as the Lamb that was slain. 

That you would join in the chorus of worship with your life. 

Still a worship leader

Ministry realization: I haven’t lead musical worship in almost a decade, but I don’t think I can stop leading worship. Not necessarily musical worship anymore, but worship.

Spiritual director asked why I still do ministry, and today I realized at the core of it, I love that moment when humans are surprised by God’s presence and articulate what they have witnessed with awe and gratitude back to God… and really, isn’t that worship leading?

It’s at the core of my pastoral ministry, of my strategic coaching, my preaching, my prayer ministry… whereas I used to scoff at the insecure worship leader I was in high school, maybe there is a redeemable shard of that teenage worship leader still inside of me. 

But I also wonder if that’s what makes ministry so hard in this season- going to people, communities and places that haven’t experienced the surprising presence for years (or ever), and convincing them that the hope of His presence is so available if we just ask… 

…it’s so hard when I encourage, they ask, they wait, and the presence doesn’t show up. And if I’m honest these last 4-5 years have been filled with moments where the presence hasn’t shown up how I wanted it to… it’s no longer convincing me but I’m needing to be convinced again

But that over zealous off-tune off-beat teenage worship leader also taught me to keep singing the truths that I don’t experience until my soul can finally see those realities- Worship isn’t just about responding to what you haven’t seen, it’s prophetically calling out how the world should be if God were real… It’s not just pointing back to experienced Kingdom reality, but fighting to see the Kingdom where it’s hard to see it. I’m learning again how much I need that teenage worship leader not just for ministry but myself. 

And that teenage worship leader inside of me won’t let me stop fighting… so I suppose I’ll keep fighting.

Protected: Reflections on Sharon Narita Memorial service 9/19/21

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Rage

After a week of voicing my community’s pain to other people- my pastors, my small group, helping my team of asian-american women process their pain… this morning the weight of the pain collapsed on me, as I finally had a chance to voice to MYSELF the pain I feel.

I go to an outdoor spin class (distanced, all with headphones on)… and found myself yelling out loud, and thankfully everyone had headphones on so they couldn’t hear that the yelling was f-bomb after f-bomb. I think the spin instructor thought I was just really feeling it in the hamstrings (…well I was) but really I just felt like the pent up rage was needing to escape somewhere. I left the class and yelled in my car for a few minutes…

I am so tired…
…of being a perpetual foreigner
…of being “the accessible asian friend” model minority
…of being scared that in trying to lovingly explain my community’s pain that I’ll get the “But your people are so educated and wealthy”
…of trying to sound not too angry to white folks
…of trying to sound angry enough so other minorities trust me
…of saying very loudly “ugh. ALLERGIES” every time I sneeze in public
…of imagining if one of those women were my wife, my sister, my mom, my aunts, my teammates, my…
…of the entanglement of racism and sexism on blatant display, and everyone trying to make a decision on which one it is on social media (IT’S BOTH EVERYONE)
…of Christian men trying to solve their temptation by projecting their shame and self-hatred on women, and NOT OWNING OUR OWN SIN.
…of having to explain all of this.

So if I’m a little out of it this weekend, that’s why. I will get back to loving others soon, to having patience, to taking initiative to have hard conversations, to ending the cycle of hatred and shame with grace, to building bridges… this for me is no obligation, but a sober loving choice I have made in how I live my life. But just for a moment, I think I need to just stop, and be angry. be sad. be frustrated. be tired…. so maybe I can rest, have patience, grieve well, speak up and press in again.

Protected: …a little too bitter.

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Wearing their dreams on my wrist…

I remember being exhausted in the hospital. It was a prolonged goodbye to Ma Ma (chinese for paternal grandma) as her body fought to keep her around long enough to see her family…

…during those long days and nights, my grandpa pulled me aside. He’s from the blue collar scruff of lower class Hong Kong; coming here to work as a chef in America. Usually he’s laughing in an apish fashion, or clearing his throat while playing digital mahjong. But his eyes were glassy today, and his cheeks showed a similar weariness, but also a dawning realization his companion for decades would be gone.

In cantonese, he said, “Thank you for being with grandma all this time. You’ve been a good kid (“guai jai”). I want you to have this”

He handed me a rolex watch.

“When we first moved from Hong Kong to America, I sold everything and then bought these watches so I could carry our savings here to America.”

This weekend, I’m about to walk down the aisle to marry the love of my life, Diane. We’re going to start a new family. But as we start new things, I’ll carry this watch, with its scratches and cracks; with its tarnished metal down the aisle… I carry my past and my history with me from all my grandparents and their stories of immigration and movement down the aisle…

Only my grandpa from my father’s side is alive, and he’ll be the only one there… But all their dreams are alive in me, and they leap out of my soul into my throat as I sit and reflect on it all.

On my father’s side, I carry the dreams of my grandpa for his future generations to have a better life. I carry my grandma’s love with her unswerving welcome and acceptance. On my mother’s side, I carry the creativity of my grandpa- with his love of art and food (and beer). I carry my grandmother’s quiet authority, fighting the patriarchy and with grace and dignity.

And I don’t know what kind of legacy we will pass down to our future generations… but I’m thankful we can create new things because they created new things for us. Thank you, Ma-ma, Yeh-yeh, Po-po and Gong-gong.

My grandparents at my parents’ wedding: Gong-gong, Po-po, Ma-ma, Yeh-yeh

Not much to show

The last couple months, I’ve been feeling a little down. There are exciting seasons in planting an area- and it’s true! Record amount of conversions! Our 3 campuses with bible studies who didn’t have anything 2 years ago!… but there are seasons where I wonder to myself- what am I doing? (What’s funny is this always seems to happen dec-Jan for me, looking back haha. I am a creature of habit) Everything that has started feels so delicate… and sometimes downright awkward. Nothing looks that pretty. I’ve got some dinky bible studies and some beginnings of friendships and connections… I look at other pastors and ministers and realize I could be doing sexier things.

It’s like you go in intending to create a masterpiece… and this is all you get:

Every time though- the invitation from the Holy Spirit is towards empowerment of those that have no power. To make space at the table for those who have had no access to the table- that’s why I plant. And it sounds so poetic… but is so much harder sometimes in practice. But that’s why I plant- there is a deeper beauty I seek than a polished church service and beautiful church building.

But there are days I lose sight of this quest for deeper beauty and shalom. And I will admit this last month I have felt far from that quest. But the words of Paul ambushed me this morning as I tried to pray and listen again this morning:

For Christ did not send me to baptize but to proclaim the gospel, and not with eloquent wisdom, so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its power.

Eloquence is what the American ministry industrial complex wants.

I must remember to choose humble apostleship no matter how insignificant it feels. To choose to empower those with no access, no matter the mess. To choose to listen humbly to those who point their anger with the institution directly at me with viciousness, knowing that I must not defend myself; I must love. To choose to not grow too prideful to not see the radical poetry of God unfold as two awkward community college students try and try again to join God’s mission and learn how to bring friends closer to Jesus.

Jesus, give me eyes to see that beauty unfold in this coming semester.

I suppose even if the snowman was ugly, it still tasted good.

Be.

Picture credit: Jenny Klouse

On one side, pressure to become something I am not.

On the other, labels that assume I am something I am not.

Bring me back to that safe place,
In Your love
Where my uniqueness was formed
Where it is now established
Where it yearns to go

Help me be.

#Metoo and Grace

…some random Christian thoughts on #metoo as a male Christian leader that have been clamoring around in my head lately…

I have heard many (usually men, especially Christians) say the #metoo movement is too harsh on men and doesn’t give enough grace. Yes, the online reactions are harsh, the immediate shaming is jarring… Of course this is a time where us men feel a little scared these days, and are wondering if we ever do fall… is there an actual path for redemption?  Why do they all have to be so harsh? And are the women just seeking attention or trying to attack God’s servants? 

 …but from what I’ve learned from addiction recovery groups, in counseling/therapy and from the Bible and real-life ministry experience: we cannot begin to receive grace until we come to grips with how sinful and broken we actually are. The path for redemption is not fighting the downward pull, but allowing the truth of our broken state- both individually and societally our participation in gender inequality- to fully set in. Perhaps we are a little scared- but do we, especially men in religious power, dare allow the higher power- the Holy Spirit- convert that fear to full sobriety of who we really are? …because somewhere down there in sobriety, in the depths of the death of our egos, our grip on power, and our pride… that’s where grace is.  

 

I say this soberly, knowing that I am just as susceptible to the same swift judgment in society as a man with some amount of privilege and power. But I say this with conviction, knowing the power of the voice of women and knowing that what is happening in western society is important, especially as I lead a team of all women, have been developed, discipled, and lead by women throughout my life in ministry. We have to do better, especially as faith leaders. Whatever happened to humility? Why are we so defensive of “attacks” on our power and so quick to demonize the women who accuse? Was it not Paul, someone that a lot of men in religious power look up to, who instead of defending his past as a persecutor of Christians and a murderer… humbly admitted that he was, in fact, “the chief of sinners” (1 Tim 1:15)? Instead of shying away from his past, he had made peace that this was part of his story, and would often remind his readers of his acts against those he now was serving (Gal 1:13,23; 1 Cor 15:9).  Should this not be a model of male leadership? Being okay with admitting the depths of our brokenness, even if it means tarnishing our reputation? …because we realize that it is only in the depths of our depravity and suffering that we find… things like… grace. redemption. restoration. healing. reparation. Things that we preach up in the pulpit. 

Men- you want real men’s ministry? Real men’s ministry involves surrendering the idols of our own power and privilege. We men often use power and privilege to hide from “the wages of sin”. … Yet we must come to grips that it is not enough to shield us from the death and brokenness of our human state. We are afraid of #MeToo because it asks that we surrender this idol and let the voices of women have weight. Real men’s ministry is teaching men to listen to women, and maybe be led by them. Real men’s ministry is humbly listening to the experiences of hurt and abuse- and instead of defending our power, to humbly, whether or not we were personally culpable, confess our participation in patriarchy- and then seek ways to serve and heal the women who have been so abused by the system…. working to dismantle the system and restore women in our world to a place where they can safely partner, serve and lead us.

Yes, I am a believer of grace.  But do we have what Dietrich Bonhoeffer described as a “cheap grace” that does not consider the price of this gift of grace? Further, shall grace come at the expense of the weak who cry out for justice? We seem to conveniently be harsh with holiness to those without power and ask for grace for those of us who lead… Woe to us who seek to “cheapen grace”.

…Grace is available. Even restoration. But what I learned in recovery groups is that while grace is free, it is costly. We have to put to death this idolatry of our own power first, and give our true allegiance to the “Lamb that was slain” first, who has a very different vision of the Kingdom than our own power and privilege.

We have to admit we are addicted to power and privilege. The grace I’ve discovered requires this:

1. We have to admit that we are powerless over this addiction.
2. We must come to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
3. We must make a decision to turn our will and lives over to the care of God
4. We must make a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves and our participation in patriarchy.
5. We must admit to God, to ourselves, and to other human beings the exact nature of our wrongs.
6. We must be ready to have God remove all these defects of character
7. We must humbly ask him to remove our short comings
8. We must acknowledge the persons we have harmed and become willing to make amends to them all.
9. We must make direct amends to such people whenever possible except when to do so would injure them or others.
10. We must continue to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admit it.
11. We must seek through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.
12. We must have a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, trying to carry this message to others and to practice these principles in all our affairs

We need a spiritual awakening in the hearts of men in our society, in which we humbly give up this addiction to power.  We need to stop being afraid of swift judgment, shame and what we feel are false accusations… We need to listen to the Holy Spirit… and we need to listen to women.

Hi. My name is Daniel. And I am addicted to the benefits of patriarchy… And I’m learning to lead and be led in a different way, and listen and be led to the voices of women in my life… I’m still not good at it. In fact, I still sometimes fall back into the old patterns of patriarchy. But I realize that I must change- for my own good and for those around me, to fully express the Gospel that I claim to preach with integrity.

…Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner…

Mercy.

Mercy is hard as a model minority child of immigrants.

The pressure to assimilate and emulate the white majority version of success- a lie from the oppressor and our addiction to the oppressor’s approval, pushing aside other minorities saying we did it from our own effort…

“Don’t rock the boat,” they say. “Don’t be the nail that sticks out, or be hammered down,” they say. In our effort to be successful, we translate moments of cross cultural difference as our “fault”, I have found myself apologizing for things that aren’t even wrong; these things I apologize for are actually just are how God created me and my culture.

But it’s comfortable living in this model minority fantasy. I come from privilege because my family has been rich going back 4-5 generations. I can feel like I am equal to the white man…

…until moments like this week, where I’m minding my own business walking down the street of my new office space in Pacific Grove. The young white man is about to light his cigarette. I walk past him, having my fresh coffee in hand walking back to get some work done, feeling good in the crisp winter sunshine. “ANYANGASAYOH!” he says as he mockingly bows to me.

I don’t speak Korean.

I am not your Confucian source of wisdom.

Why won’t you just say hi to me in English?

What’s up with that mocking bow and chuckle? Am I that exotic to you?

Reality rushes into my being. I am not his equal in this country. That comment reminds me my affluence and privilege is just an opiate to keep me happy and keep me from rebelling against this sinister and subversive construct called “white supremacy”.

Old Daniel would rush to mercy. But it wasn’t real mercy. It was “push it down. Don’t show. Don’t rock the boat. Don’t create trouble. Just suck it up”. With every ching chong joke and slant eye comment followed with, “What? it’s just a joke!”

Today’s Daniel is tired. I don’t have time for this… oh what’s the safe seminary word… “skubala” (I can translate for you if you don’t have your logos/accordance handy. Just message me.). I have no patience, and I quickly respond, “That’s racist. Go back to Europe.” I’m tired of the colonizer getting the last word.

He begins to insist, “WHAT? I say it to everyone!!” as he began to look to his friends for support…

It took everything to stop there short of the middle finger.

I thought I was fine after it. Besides, this happens to me all the time. Just keep walking. But I keep forgetting the same feeling of boiling anger, elevated heart beat surging with adrenaline, and shaky legs after it happens every. Single. Time. This happened Monday, and I haven’t been able to shake it since then. I’ve been knee-jerk defensive, and then highly non-confrontational with everyone around me after it. I have a sermon that remains unwritten because I’ve been so distracted. Microaggressions still can create macro trauma.

This is not a success story of me demonstrating mercy. This is saying this concept of “mercy,” “forgiveness” and “compassion” feels weighty to me as a minority who is tired of giving passive mercy; allowing for abuse to persist. Without truth, there cannot be mercy. Without acknowledging my anger and how much it hurts, I can’t begin to show mercy. But sometimes the anger is overwhelming, and it takes so much to take it to surrender it to Jesus instead of swallowing it.

And maybe, as I lay this at the cross, I can allow Jesus to heal me; to restore my memory of my belovedness and that His image is imprinted in my skin, in my hair, in my body, in my language, in my culture; that it is not some object to be made fun of, but it is all fearfully and wonderfully made.

And maybe if I begin to remember my own belovedness, I can have eyes to see, behind the corruption of sin, white American culture’s belovedness. Maybe I can begin to lament how power and privilege have blinded the 81%. Maybe I can begin to have compassion on their own self-hatred which spills out into hatred for those like me different from their hegemonic vision of “America”. And maybe I can see how desperately in bondage they are to that very power and privilege and they need the power of Jesus to set them free.

And maybe one day, I can turn around to this man, look at him compassionately, and instead of saying it while walking away, say while looking into his eyes, “Excuse me. I don’t know where you felt the need to say that. Maybe you’ve had a long day. Maybe you wanted a laugh from your friends walking with you. What you said might have felt like a joke to you. But my culture is not a joke. If you’d like to hear more about how beautiful it is, I’d love to sit down and talk to you about it and why it hurts when someone who looks like you says something like that. But if you’re not willing to sit down with me, could you not say that anymore? I believe you can be so much more than that.”

Ha. Mercy. Maybe. Maybe one day I can do that. But Lord, only you have enough grace to take that on, and enough grace to handle my own anger… so “kyrie eleison”…