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Life is messy. Throw together some youth, a youth minister, and some pizza and what do you get? Burnt pizza and a change in plans.

When being in a place of servitude is to be in a place of joy. Sometimes life doesn’t work out the way you want it to and that’s all part of the plan.

What I found when I joined a Christian organization that believed what I believed in but which I never felt accepted by.

The world’s claims of progress are an illusion. Their promises of a better, more productive society are just a marketing ploy. Take a closer look at the city of the future, and you’ll see that it’s really empty inside.

During my childhood, my family moved around a lot, and so I had few friends. During the tumultuous teenage years, I knew rejection from peers and crushes. During my twenties, family members and love interests disowned me.

As a counselor, I work with people from different walks of life: children, adolescents, adults, families, low-income populations and people who struggle with depression, anxiety, bipolar disorders, substance abuse, and much more. I get to know them. My heart aches with them.

I wrote “To My Fallen Comrade” after hearing that the son of a man my father worked with had killed himself after a long battle with mental illness. I realized that I was the same age as this young man, we were both Christians, and apart from the grace of God, I could have done the same.

It is during these dark hours of our lives that we need someone who can see us as whole persons with both physical and spiritual needs. This may come in the form of a professional counselor, a friend, or a family member. But more importantly, it is crucial that the local church steps in, because the body of Christ is supposed to be there for brothers and sisters.

This awkward position is one the human race faced before the coming of Christ, and that’s the inability to live up to a set of rules. For example, let’s say a basketball player is taught all of the rules of basketball, and he simply strives to keep the rules. Now, the player that keeps the rules most diligently is not necessarily the best player.

In Proverbs 3:31, we are directed to “not envy the violent or choose any of their ways.” But secretly, deep down inside, we all want to be the action hero. The money we spend to see these stories on the big screen are our votes of confidence.

Every Sunday as I was growing up, my family would go through our weekly ritual of going to our Sunday service at the Korean United Methodist Church (KUMC). We’d pile into the minivan, wearing our Sunday best – usually sitting in the car for a few minutes while we waited for my mom to grab something she’d forgotten from the house

“If you’re one of the thousands of disaffected or wanderers who have had to leave your church in order to follow Christ more faithfully, know that you are increasingly in good company.”

“Whatever your calling in Christ, there is a place for you to be his Church with the brothers and sisters around you.”

My eyes had never felt this way before. They burned painfully. They were sensitive to light.

I used to think if I ever got a tattoo it would be the words “be brave” - in black script and somewhere visible, like my wrist or forearm.

We face challenging times in our lives, but it would be a little foolish to think things simply changed over the course of a week. This is a problem that has been with us since our country’s inception. Hatred of our fellow human has been with us since Cain and Abel.

Disruptions are just part of life. No matter how well we try to prepare or plan around them, sooner or later something comes along to interrupt your flow or shake your foundation.

What should be our relationship with faith and politics? Especially in today’s world, we wonder how involved the church should be in the affairs of the outside world.

The most recent presidential election was one of the most divisive and polarizing in modern history. What is most concerning for many was not just the differences and shortcoming of the two candidates but the intense emotions each one kindled across the country.

Christianity is not a political ideology. It does not fit neatly within the confines of governance.

What do you do when there are about one thousand miles between what you know in your head and what you actually feel in your heart?

A few years ago in the late fall or winter, I was sitting in the subway train when a young man came into my train car and broke the public silence…

This interaction largely shaped my view of God. If God held a progress report of my life at the time, it might have read, “Church attendance: A, Relationships: B, Selfless acts: B, Quality of prayer: C.”

Once we recognize our faults, blemishes, and undesirable features, we can seek to understand them and displace the imperfection in our lives.

Belonging. When originally approached about this theme, I had topics in mind, some fun stories, perhaps a joke or two. But as I compose this article, none of these come to mind. All that pervades my consciousness is the loneliness and isolation I have experienced in terms of community.

It didn’t take long for me to learn that I was different. I was waiting in line for my school lunch, standing in front of the counter, my six-year-old self just tall enough to see the cafeteria moms doling out our food, when a classmate came up to me.

The road I have walked has not always been easy. When I turned nineteen, my parents decided to uproot and move from Pennsylvania to Colorado. At the time, I was partway through my freshman year of college, and it was immediately clear I should not follow them.

As a young man reading through the New Testament on his own, I envisioned Christian Community to be something like a post-apocalyptic enclave, gathering together in the shadows as the world whirled around them.

I remember watching a video clip of a man named Alton Sterling getting pinned down and then shot. I felt my stomach turn, unsure of how to react. I wanted to look away as the man lay in a growing pool of his own blood.

As foreigners in this world, we Christians ought to know better than anyone else what it feels like to long for a better country.

When the second atomic bomb was dropped on Nagasaki, it destroyed the largest Christian church in Japan, along with a Christian orphanage run by nuns, in a small area called Urakami. What can we learn from these historic events? What do they mean for us as American-Christians or Japanese-Christians living in the aftermath today?

When my sister was in high school, she volunteered at nursing homes, and as a pesky middle school student I questioned why someone would spend time with people who would likely spend the rest of their lives in the same building before passing away.

You have heard it said that a Good Christian is a Good American... but I suggest to you that a Good Christian is a Kingdom Citizen, one whose fellow citizens are sprinkled throughout many nations.

I could have been an awesome Pharisee. At least, I could if I were a first-century male Jew.

Have you ever looked at your life and found you just couldn’t recognize yourself? Sounds cliché, right? But if you’ve ever experienced depression, that feeling is all too familiar.

The relationship between the church and the empires of old were never comfortable.

In all of this, know that intention is the key to growth and change in our lives. If we say we want to be healthy and honor God with our lives, but we choose not to care for ourselves, we can be sure our priorities are elsewhere.