Aiming for a Capital“ C " Church in Korean America
Kion You
And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful.( Colossians 3:15, NIV)
27 % of Koreans living in Korea identity as Christian. 80 % of Koreans living in America, vastly constituted of first and second generation immigrants, identify as Christians. This dramatic shift in religious demographics deserves to be looked at critically, especially considering the fact that Christianity in the United States has been on a rapid spiral downwards. What is it about the Korean American church that has allowed for this kind of growth, and what positives and negatives can we glean from it?
My own background in Christianity follows a similar thread to that of many Korean American Christians: my parents met through the church in Seoul, moved to San Diego when I was three, plugged into a local Korean church called Hanbit, and then fostered community through that church. They dedicated a major part of their life to serving Hanbit— my dad poured hours into building the church’ s online infrastructure.
My dad decided to leave Hanbit after 9 years. I remember the entire pastoral staff visiting our house, essentially begging my dad to stay. My mom served coffee to the men at the table and then went upstairs, as did I— we were tacitly uninvited to spaces such as these. However, my dad’ s obstinacy won over, and our family moved to an American church called Maranatha, a supposedly temporary arrangement. I left behind my formative childhood years, saying goodbyes to both best friends and bullies. At Maranatha, I made no friends and hated service, while my parents couldn’ t even understand the sermons. We spent three unnecessary years at a church that was objectively very good, but clearly wasn’ t for us.
Finally, after starting my freshman year of high school, our family decided to switch churches to Calvary, another local Korean American Presbyterian church, in what was supposed to be the final move. I cautiously began to involve myself in the youth group, slowly making friends among those who had grown up together in Calvary. Over the course of years, I began to find my place in Calvary. I joined praise team, made great friends, and began to unpack some of my emotional struggles with them. However, just as I began to truly open myself up to those around me, our adult congregation made a decision that threw the entire church into chaos— they decided to vote out our senior pastor.
My youth pastor at the time took a stance of rebellion, preaching that it was not biblical to force out a minister the way our church did. Unsurprisingly, he was then forced out too. I vividly remember that in his last few weeks on the job, senior elders came in and sat in our youth service, leading my youth pastor to not say a single word. Instead, he showed biblical videos to express silent rebellion. Over the course of four more years in high school, I also saw two other leaders leave after finding better jobs.
The now former senior pastor, at the urging of supportive church members, started his own church elsewhere in San Diego, and my dad followed along, dragging the rest of my family with him. However, I refused to follow my parents out, standing firm in my commitment to Calvary. It had given me everything throughout my high school years, and I was unwilling to leave yet another faith community. Soon, however, my dad grew again disillusioned and mistreated by the church, and left again, reverting back to the stable Maranatha Chapel. My mother and my seven year old sister followed, but this time, my 16 year old sister stayed. Essentially, it was a nomadic struggle my sister and I grew sick and tired of.
Finally, after a long, complicated, and frankly tedious history with church, the present day: our family of five attends three different churches back in San Diego.
I pushed out all of the emotional trauma these schisms caused me until I physically escaped them in college. I shut out the emotional difficulty of alienating myself from my family, of going to a church my family had left, of worshipping in a building riddled with sin and strife. I packaged all of my emotions into a box labeled“ church drama” and tucked it away, which was ultimately a futile action— church schism bled into family schism which bled into internal schism. It was impossible to separate an unstable church life with an unstable spiritual life. Only from this past year did I begin to understand why I had such an adamant refusal to become vulnerable with a church: the risk of hurt and separation was too great. I also began to see that my problem was much more common than I had thought.
As one person who grew up in one geographical area, my knowledge about the Korean-American church as a whole is miniscule in scope— I can only speak for my personal experiences. However, through talking to Korean-American churchgoing friends from across the nation, as well as through digging online, common threads began to appear— problems that are not limited to the Korean American church, but apply to the church in general. There is a ubiquitous culture of shame, which I felt when the first youth pastor who I felt genuinely loved me was ostracized by church elders. Before I attended Calvary,
12 Spring 2018