During my last year in seminary, I contacted some representatives from a denomination that was recruiting potential pastors. After spending a few minutes asking about my testimony and seminary experience, the representative proceeded to ask me what I would like to do after graduating. I told him quite simply that I wanted to be a minister of Word and sacrament in order to proclaim the gospel faithfully to God's people in the church and in the world. After a few awkward moments of silence, he thoughtfully said, "Hmmm, I don't think there's a multicultural church in my denomination looking for a pastor right now." Did I hear that right? I tried again with some uncertainty in my voice, "I'm not looking for a position in a multicultural context; I just want to be a pastor." Unfortunately, he hadn't heard me in the midst of what appeared to be a genuine state of reflection as he attempted to locate a church that fit me. After a few more awkward moments of silence, he came out of his meditative state and exclaimed with a palpable display of excitement, "Oh yes, there is a church on the East Coast that is half African American!" He paused. Oh no, I thought, here it comes. "The problem is," he stated, "they're not looking for anyone right now."
....
Not too long ago I was invited to preach at a church populated predominantly by Caucasians. Having now lived and worked in primarily racially white contexts for over 20 years, I felt quite at ease preaching in this setting. What surprised me, however, was a comment after the service was over. One parishioner approached me as I stood by the coffee pot and, after the initial pleasantries were exchanged, suddenly looked at me and exclaimed, "My, your English is quite good!" Stunned, I took a sip of my coffee, wondering whether or not I should cry out, "It should be since I was born here and have lived here for over 30 years!" But I quietly said, "Thank you." What else could I say? I knew deep down that the comment did not precipitate from any malicious intent. At times like this, I must breathe grace.
In his book, The Peacemaker, Ken Sande issues the call to breathe grace upon people with whom you are in conflict. He writes that as beneficiaries of the grace of God, breathed out to us in Christ, we are called upon to breathe out words and deeds of grace. As I reflect upon the future of the Korean-American church and her pastors, this is where we must fundamentally begin--with the gospel of grace. It is the gospel that can transform our characters and our cultures.
Julius J. Kim, A Journey on the Margins: Reflections of a Korean-American Presbyterian
Friday, March 14, 2008
Breathe grace
Julius Kim, dean of students at Westminster Seminary California, writes in the January/February issue of Modern Reformation on the unique challenges of being a second-generation Korean-American pastor. He shares a couple of painfully funny stories.
Sorry to comment so much, Stephen, but based on my own experience, I think this problem is contextual. As a KA pastor in NY in the UMC, I don't encounter this problem. In fact, many Korean and KA pastors are pastoring non-Korean churches. I can see more pastors encounter negative experiences in less cosmopolitan areas. So some day if I experience a rural church, then I will have to be especially gracious.
ReplyDeleteComment as much as you want! I thought of you when I read this. Interestingly enough we've received a number of KA candidates for our pastoral opening. Not surprising though when you consider the explosive growth of the church in general in the ROK, and the number of Presbyterians in particular. That's bound to have an effect in the US too.
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