My Easter story
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I celebrated my first American Christmas in Houston, Texas in the winter of 1992, mere weeks after first setting foot in this strange and seemingly unreceptive land. As a ten-year-old FOB, I would spend the next four years in what I, at the time, would best describe as a living hell. In a country whose customs were as foreign to me as its language, I had already felt excruciatingly out of my element without having to face the daily barrage of racial taunts and slurs. As I grew up with these very same people throughout my middle and high school years, my title as a social outcast only burned deeper in my heart, and against such a hostile world I spent my time developing defenses that would annihilate all those who even dared to approach me. When it came time to decide on a college, I was ready to do anything to get as far away from Texas as I could. I wanted a fresh start where I can build a new image and a new life without being haunted by my past, and what better place to begin reinventing myself than Berkeley? I set out the summer before freshman year to redefine myself for social acceptance. I never did quite succeed, but little did I know then that I was about to find Someone who would love me for who I am.
I arrived at the Durant side of Unit 3 at 7:00 in the morning on move-in day for the express purpose of laying claim to that perfect corner of my triple before my two other roommates did so. While my mother searched for parking, I sat by the curb feeling exhausted, my mountain of worldly possessions next to me. Over my right shoulder, I heard a firm yet unimposing voice ask, “Hi, do you need any help?” I quickly accepted Richard’s help, with the condition that I would reciprocate the favor. After two trips, he proceeded to tell me, rather nonchalantly, of this organization he belonged to a Christian campus group. Coming from a devoutly atheistic family, I initially wanted nothing to do with this club, no matter how much meat they might have at their free barbecue. But I also came from a thoroughly Asian family, and my attention quickly turned to the word “free” instead. I also took into account the fact that Richard wanted no compensation for his labors other than having me going to consume free food at his expense. After we exchanged contact information and parted ways, I decided to give it a shot. After all, what harm could it do?
Because of the thought-provoking message I heard at that first New Student Welcome Night, I ended up attending Bible studies regularly that first semester. After that, I signed up for Course 101. The class focused much on the intellectual and historical basis for the Person of Jesus Christ that effectively convinced me that the New Testament was reliable, but I was still too arrogant to concede the truth of Jesus’ message. However, when I went to the TFN right before the winter retreat that semester, Pastor Ed delivered a deeply distressing message that really opened my eyes to the extent of man’s sinfulness and how hopeless the world would be without a Savior. Through his words I saw that the injustice of a cruel world was not the main source of my misery, but it was my sinful nature that would destroy even the most perfect paradise and all the people within it. Finally, the cross began to make sense, as I began to suspect that there is something deeply wrong about not only what I’ve done, but who I am at the core, and that my guilt from all the moral laws and self-imposed standards I’ve broken do not measure up to the deep offense and hurt I’ve caused my Creator God. For my cosmic treason, a price had to be paid, and if I had to pay it, I knew I was a marked man living on borrowed time. I decided that I needed some time alone to think things through. In my mind, I was at the point of no return. I could either accept the Bible’s painfully realistic stories of humanity, recognize that Jesus has full claim over my life by creation and redemption, and lose my life to save it, or I could close my eyes to the truth and continue trying to tighten my grip on my old, self-centered reality knowing that it will only slip further out of my hands, a chasing after the wind.
The home stretch leading to my decision began on Easter Sunday 2001, when I attended my first Sunday worship service. The message was on Luke 24, On the Road to Emmaus. I saw myself then, making that same journey away from home, slow of heart to believe, but Someone was there with me, opening the Scriptures to my heart, Someone whom I did not know but who knew me better than myself. I went home that day and prayed that God would help my unbelief. I was incredulous when I first found out that I could pray for such a thing, but could do little else.
The last two weeks of my old life were characterized by anxiety. I was about to cross over to a new life that seemed full of joy and pain at the same time, and I was uncertain how I would react to it. I continued to pray for faith. Perhaps everything I needed to know had already been revealed to me. I could do nothing but pray that the coming messages would be sufficient to help me make the biggest decision of my life. After the message on April 27, 2001, I asked to talk privately with my small group leader. I had made a list of half a dozen questions that were holding me back. I think I knew all the answers already, though, because I did not get past the second one before I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. It was the first time I ever cried for joy.
It is always a surreal experience to read my testimony and vividly recall what happened nearly six years ago. I did not know what I was getting myself into then, and I don’t know all that much more now. It has been six years sprinkled with many painful incidences through which God showed me His great love by not letting me sweep my sins and flaws under the rug, but forcing me to confront my true self, so that my old nature can be broken before Him and that He can put me back together in just the way He meant for me to be. Far from losing myself, I experienced finding my true self as God cut away all the corruption, filth, and pretense I had thought were a part of my self and revealed my true strengths, joys, dreams, and hopes within the boundaries of the life He prescribed for me. God, who calls things that are not as though they were, has called me to be His temple, a place where people can see that God is real and alive and makes a difference in the world, a source of refuge and blessing and good news.