E.S. Ro is a firm believer in the power of young people, good storytelling and Jesus Christ. She currently lives and serves in Memphis, Tennessee.
For the past few years, I’ve been a pastor in search of a home. As a Filipino American, the idea of home is unclear to me. The Philippines is my ancestral home and I feel close to my roots and relatives there. My theological lineage can also be traced back to specific people, churches, seminaries, and American denominations in the Philippines. But many of my concerns are markedly American, even though I was born in Canada. Despite having lived in the States for most of my life, I get regular reminders of my foreignness, especially here in the Midwest.
AS AN ASIAN AMERICAN, I often feel selfconscious or distrustful of my feelings of happiness. I never wanted to come across as happier than others because that could make me seem insensitive or noncommunal.
TO MY NEPHEW: You're 2 years old as I write this letter. You're beginning to burst forth with the occasional phrase and idea, mixing your words with excited gibberish.
I'M STANDING completely naked in Imperial Spa, a Korean sauna or jjimjilbang. After rinsing off the sweat from hours of lazing in heated rooms, I see other women who are taller than me, thinner than me, shorter than me, heavier set than me, but just as naked as me.
I WAS CRYING MY EYES OUT during the final few miles of my trek into town.
THOUGHTS RACED THROUGH my mind as my boyfriend wiped his forehead and nervously reached into his pocket. He lowered himself to one knee, slowly opened a small square box, and asked, “Carrie, will you marry me?”
Jason Chu is not your typical Christian artist — or more accurately, does not appear like it. He sits across from me at a Hong Kong style cafe, with his shirt unbuttoned to reveal a big cross tattooed across the center of his chest.
LOOK AROUND and it’s not hard to find — everywhere you step, everywhere you go, everywhere you glance.