motif SKETCHBOOK: Origins (Issue 4) by motifsketchbook

December 2023

Editor’s Note Heavy breaths, heart racing, skin stretching, visceral pain escalating, tearing through the entire body… BIRTH Midwives whose hands have nurtured… sage words of wisdom and advice that persist through time. Generations of prayers circulating…. Platforms of unfulfilled hopes stacked on top of one another… roots that run deeper than imagination Death of irrelevance… demise of stalled movements…. inertia of newness born from blackholes of past Parallel universes of beginnings and ends… Origins

An Evergreen Creatives Initiative

Cover Art - Melanie Mar Chow Layout/Design - Isabel Bortagaray |

@isabortagaray

Contents+ EDITOR’S NOTE

CREDITS

GALLERY

21 25

STORIES

Fragments | DJ Uno

Gulf | Lovelyn Chang | Artwork by Gavin Otteson

I Am Charcoal | Wendy Lew Toda

POETRY

Origin of Life | Marian Sunabe

Curiosity Bites | Toby Chi

Creativity Blooms Again | Melanie Mar Chow Droplets #103 | Julia Hendrickson Rooted Foundation Bowl of Rice

} Alex Eng

12 _

14 16

New Sprouts | Quincy Sakai

The Mountains Hold Secrets | January Lim | Artwork by Marian Sunabe

Abundance | Jang Lee

An Early Morning | Virgil Lew | Photography by Maya Olson

CHARACTERS

Peter Del Colliano | Written by Eric Lui | Photography by Bruce Chow

REFLECTIONS

The Bus Ride That Changed My Life | Andrew Cobb | Photography by Bruce Chow

The Death of A Dream | Jon Moy | Artwork by Jang Lee

I’ve Been Here Before | Julie Yeeun Kim | Artwork by Jang Lee

MUSIC

CONVERSATIONS

Stephanie Kim | Interview with January Lim 46

Hideaway | Mide Kolawole

DEVOTIONAL

PASTORAL COLUMN

Again and Again | Virgil Lew | Artwork by Julia Hendrickson

The Road and the Rive | Bruce Chow | Artwork by Julia Hendrickson

A New Thing | Julie Ono

GALLERY

ORIGIN OF LIFE Marian Sunabe Collage, watercolor, ink 4inx6in

CURIOSITY BITES

GALLERY

Toby Chi Pencil on Paper 6x9

GALLERY

Melanie Chow Water color splotches and then using a hair dryer over the splotches. 4x6

BoldBrush founder Clint Watson is quoted saying, "Artists also have origin stories. And you should have one in your bio." This piece of art came on a day needing to offset the cumulative emotions of month-after-month road trips and responsibility as I serve unstaffed campuses. As an encourager of self-care, I realized I needed to rediscover "painter Melanie" repressed almost 60 years ago after a life-changing moment stopped my use of watercolors. My dad came home thirsty after a hot day's long commute, and in horror I watched him drink my watercolor brush color changing water. When I visited the Shrem Museum of Art @ the UC Davis campus, I ventured into a room that laughing children were streaming out of sharing paintings with their parents. Amidst the many tables provided in the intergenerational space came an opportunity to use water color splashes and hair dryers to create art. This was the best of three that day because I had faith that I could make art again. 11

GALLERY

Droplets #103 Julia Hendrickson Watercolor and Salt on Paper 22"x30" 2023

GALLERY

Alex Eng Medibang Paint Pro 8x8

Your origins and roots are important for remembering who you are. They keep you grounded and serve as a good foundation for whatever life throws at you, and I wanted to illustrate that in this piece.

GALLERY

ALEX ENG MEDIBANG PAINT PRO 5X5 This is a rice bowl of lap chong (Chinese sausage) and char siu (Chinese BBQ pork). This simple dish is a staple of many Chinese people and can bring comfort after a long day.

GALLERY

New Sprouts Quincy Sakai Gouache and acrylic paint 8.5 x 12 A plant’s beauty lasts for only a short while, but that is what makes it special. Although it can be sad to see cherished things disappear, there will be new sprouts to grow.

GALLERY

Abundance Jang Lee Oil on Canvas 36in x 48in I was inspired by a picture I took of my grandfather when visiting Korea for the first time since immigrating to America in 2001. He greeted me warmly and began cutting fruit for me. I was struck by this simple gesture of love despite our sparse history together. He passed away one year later, and our brief encounter remains to be the only memory I have of him.

STORIES

GALLERY

STORIES

POETRY

We can be five feet away In the living room loveseat And yet a gulf of ages separates us. Divided by generations, lost language, cultural codes, and misunderstandings– seemingly eons of experiences that can’t be bridged by words. And I feel sad For this distance between us, And you and her, And us and them.

Written by Lovelyn Chang Artwork by Gavin Otteson

Yet we try, Or some of us do, To sit at the same table Share our stories, Say some words, And maybe laugh a bit For what they’re worth– Feeble efforts to reach across And appreciate each other Even though we get tired Of explaining What the other cannot fathom Blood runs thick. Life-giving identity flows through and love seeps Into the cracks Of tiredness, duty and irritability While we care for the aged, the infirm, and the ones losing their minds. We inherit the pains, losses, stories of suffering, and luck (or more like the divine hand), yet forgetfulness of time erases those memories. Still our bodies and inner minds carry the burdens across the expansive gulf –sometimes knowing and sometimes unaware.

I AM CHARCOAL

Written by Wendy Lew Toda

POETRY

Aftermath of an airless inferno No longer the tree You knew yourself to be Gone are your leafy green arms celebrating the sky face to the sun Now fallen charred smoldering one with the ground endless days memories wander grieving among the ruins of what once was Love comes seeking you undeterred by destruction Strong hands extend inviting yours You turn away unable unwilling to see beyond sorrow So changed you are your very core unrecognizable altered completely by fire by suffocation Love waits with heart open till you are ready, Beloved softly singing that endings are also beginnings One day you’ll take Love’s hands step in to welcome to embrace gathered up into a gentle dance Circling together sweeping over wide stones each slow turn drawing creating new lines the new arc of unseen wonder of what will be.

POETRY

The Mountains Hold Secrets (inspired by Manzanar) Written by January Lim Artwork by Marian Sunabe The blistering sun has taken account of the finite masses. The lonely crow, audience to despondent groaning. The ground pounded over by Ten million footsteps— Barren still, though a recipient Of generations worth of tears Spil ling ov er. Little proof remains That life here existed Not a single building —

All. Gone. But unforgiving gusts of wind still Carry all of the memories, Left behind stories. The mountains hold secrets Of how fathers used to gather Around mess hall tables, Secret cellars To reminisce of old matters. The mountains hold secrets Of how mothers would chatter Gossip about sons and daughters Plotting for their survival (Improbable! Possible? Oh Lord, have mercy!)

The mountains hold secrets Of how children still played Mesmerized by shadows on curtains, Basketballs dribbled on dusty courts, Fistfuls of marbles Splitting multiple ways. The mountains hold secrets Of urgency of YOUTH— Secret notes passed underside Haphazardly made school tables, Trembling hands held in a two-step dance, Graduations permanently marking the GROWTH that could and would

not be held back. The mountains hold secrets. The mountains hold secrets. To walk through remnants of gardens Of now dry roots and brushes Is to remember the lives Of so many siblings uprooted. Recall the thousands of dreams Buried alongside the screams Silenced by the voids caused by the expanse of

Deportation S e p a r a t i o n ALIENATION Listen. Listen. Listen!

The mountains hold secrets Of thriving Trees being planted Of Family origins created Of sacred Homes reconstructed Of subversive Power penetrating Through inhumane boundaries, Cruel reality overwhelming. Love crafted with Trembling heartstrings Tense with bouts of confusion— Vibrating against one another in harmonic discord of frenetic chaos, the mess of a single, fragile

beautiful moment of perseverance. The mountains hold secrets Of Divine Holiness everlasting, Forever and ever Magnificent Majestic. The Mystery Of impossible life witnessed Of visions not yet seen Promises to still unfold.

The mountains hold secrets. The mountains hold secrets.

POETRY

An Early Morning Written by Virgil Lew Photography by Maya Olson

is a ut of bed o y d o b s i h Lifting t elf. are feat in its on the bed s t ee h s g n The shifti e , inviting m bit longer e l t t i l a to y to sta koning me c e b s i y d o but the b day, s and start this eginning b w e n r o looking f ely s of unlik e r u t n e v d a s, happening uing ing intrig v a h s a h c su ions rs. conversat n strange w o n k n u h wit

POETRY

As I prepare for the outdoor walk, a lightness overwhelms me, a thought flashes in my mind just as the sunlight breaks open the morning sleepiness.

I walk with the intent to notice all the things that come into my sight, my nostrils are open wide and my ears are on standby for any loco motion rustling about.

POETRY

fly ucks d e h as t ound , r a s ay d spin overhead he trees sw a e h t My by, as ze, h s oo sw e bree a song l s t ee n b e as the with the g s dance to op and I st oud he cl and hear. t s a w and y kno arvel. e h t m only

POETRY

Each morning is a birth of something new. Creation is making music which has been written by the creator who blesses each day with wonderful symphonic melodies. It is new every morning says the author from Lamentations.

POETRY

If only we could dance standing still and open our hearts to the awe that greets us each day, we would undoubtedly be flooded with showers of wonder and blessings.

POETRY

CHARACTERS

Written by Eric Lui Edited by January Lim and Mide Kolawole

Peter Del Colliano

CHARACTERS

eter Del Colliano’s time at Evergreen Baptist Church of Los Angeles has definitely been a full and rich one. Peter first visited Evergreen 9 years ago, 6:00 AM on Easter Sunday of 2014. He was searching for a sunrise service to attend, happened to stumble upon Evergreen, and befriended Pastor Jonathan. Since then, he has served on ministries such as Prime Timers, Men's Ministry, Properties Committee, and Joy 50+. He has also enjoyed helping out with Respite Care (helping take care of disabled children that needed 24 hr care in order to give their parents times of rest), has been an ally since the early days of The Open Door and is now currently the Deacon At-Large on the church Board. Peter’s life journey started out in the sleepy Los Angeles suburb of Rosemead where his beloved church currently stands. Peter was adopted at an early age by his mother, Galicia Anido Del Calliano, and his father, Charles Del Calliano. His mother was of Spanish and English descent, born in Missouri. His father 42

was Silician, born in Pennsylvania. They both spent time living in New Jersey before moving and raising Peter in Rosemead. Peter says, “My father once told me his father came here from Sicily to escape the law. I am the only one of his children he ever told this to. Was he pulling my leg?” Peter has 3 adoptive siblings who are all decades older than him. “The Del Collianos took in a lot of strays, I was the last of them.” He says when his family was living in New Jersey, his siblings would always bring home lost souls. This seems to fall in line with how Peter describes his parents. “My father was generous, good humored, kind, patient and didn't take much insolence from anyone…my mother desired for me to be literate and a gentleman. To treat people, especially women, with care and politeness.” The way his parents cared about people had a big influence in Peter’s life; he can look back at his parents' generation and see how they shaped him to love others and serve openly at Evergreen.

CHARACTERS

Peter was also impacted by Charles, not just in the way he saw the world but also in what he ended up doing as his profession. “My father could seemingly repair anything. My mother called him the jack of all trades, master of none. One day when I was in grade school, [my father] got home to find me waiting for him to fix my tape player. I had taken it apart already. He told me ‘if you can figure out how to take it apart, you can fix it and put it back together.’ I’ve been a mechanic of one kind or another most of my life.” Because of Charles’s hands-on approach to the world and his DIY attitude, Peter developed a knack for looking at the mechanical aspects of things, becoming an electrician by trade. He has repaired cars, old movie editing machines, and worked on the electronic system (DDC) that controls HVAC in commercial buildings. Peter can definitely say he followed in his father’s footsteps.

father, Gary, was a Yonsei born in Los Angeles. Peter is of Okinawan and Japanese descent. He has a half brother from his biological mom’s side who is 6 years younger than him and a half sister on his biological dad’s side who is 20 years younger than him.

“My father was generous, good humored, kind, patient and didn't take much insolence from anyone…my mother desired for me to be literate and a gentleman. To treat people, especially women, with care and politeness.”

When Peter was in his early 20’s, he finally got to meet his birth parents. His biological mother, Janet, was a Sansei born in Manzanar and his biological

CHARACTERS

Outside of his family, Peter has many mentors and friends who have been prominent in shaping who he is. “The men who helped open my ears were Dominic, Pastor Gnaniah and Pastor Jonathan Wu. They invested heavily in my walk with the Lord.” He met his friend Dominic when he spoke at a friend’s funeral and Peter says that Christ did the rest. He shares, “Dom welcomed me to his law enforcement fellowship and befriended me during a really hard time.” Of Pastor Gnaniah, he explains, “he was the first pastor that really mentored and loved me like his own. I became a deacon and his right hand man in his congregation.” Lastly, Peter shares that Pastor Jonathan of Evergreen LA trusted him with all access and privilege of having responsibility over the church campus. Because of all the diverse people in this life journey who have helped form who he is, Peter sincerely hopes to leave behind a legacy that would make his parents and mentors proud of who he has become. Peter has plenty of stories about expressing his love for people by finding ways to provide aid and relief. This includes the time he helped a woman haul a BBQ grill in his truck from The Home Depot to her house. It also includes the time Peter went to an auto parts store to buy new parts and install and jumpstart a car of a young marine who was stranded with his friends roadside. In exchange, the marine promised to stop to help someone when he got the chance. Peter’s reasoning is simple. “Part of my impact is what has been coined [as] random acts of kindness. It's a great joy in the day to break stride and surprise people you know–especially strangers–with simple acts that reflect our Father's love for us. It's always a wonder how you can light a person up.”

“Part of my impact is what has been coined [as] random acts of kindness. It's a great joy in the day to break stride and surprise people you know–especially strangers–with simple acts that reflect our Father's love for us. It's always a wonder how you can light a person up.” 44

CONVERSATIONS

C O N V E R S AT I O N S

A Conversation with:

Stephanie Kim @tressuni

An Interview with January Lim

January: Hi Stephanie! Can you introduce yourself to our motif readers? Stephanie: Hello! My name is Stephanie Kim. I am a Korean-American currently based out of Seattle, WA and I have recently begun my career as a content creator! January : And I’ve known you for quite a number of years now, but do you recall how you and I met and how we got to become good friends? Stephanie: Of course. I had joined a small new church when I was living in Los Angeles, and my friend took me to her small group at which you were one of the Co-leaders! Once a week we'd gather together to pray for each other, share our life, share a meal, cry together and about four years of consistently doing that will bring you pretty close together hahahaha. January and I have kept in touch randomly after I left LA and to this day, our interactions have not changed from those times we were eating pizza and crying in that Silverlake apartment. January: So tell us more about your life as an influencer and content creator. What are the origins of how you found yourself in this particular season of life? Stephanie: I was pretty burnt out from corporate life. I'd been working for about 10+ years and my most recent job was actually one of the most toxic ones I had ever been in. Family life was also rough at this time and my husband had to quit his job which left me as the sole provider. I was at a pretty low point in my life and decided that no matter the financial risks, I needed to take a break. [While resting], I wanted to dive into a hobby of mine and to make short form vi46

CONVERSARTIONS

deos [to post online]. I noticed my videos about Korean-American culture performed rather well so I just kinda stuck with this topic and kept going. Fast forward to about 8 months now and I have grown a very unexpected following of about 200K across Instagram, Youtube and Tiktok. January: Yes! That is amazing. I remember one day just flipping through my TikTok FYP, and seeing your video randomly pop up! And then I saw the same video on Instagram and Facebook. I sat there just proudly thinking, “Wow! Steph has finally done it!” What are some parts of this surprising journey that has been exciting and joyful? What parts have been a little anxiety inducing? Stephanie: Honestly, most of it, like 85-90% of it has been joyful. When I first quit my job and started making videos for fun, I had probably under 300 followers on all platforms and I was still having the time of my life. The fact that I woke up everyday, thinking about [what] videos to make, it was like walking on clouds. Sure there are the thrills of "Omg this video went viral!” or "so-and-so liked/interacted with my content!", but truly, [the making of the] videos is what gives me the most incredible and fulfilling happiness. The anxiety started to kick in about 6 months into it, since I didn't have a consistent stream of income coming in. I had to start thinking about reality and what that meant. Even today, this is something I think about daily, but definitely as my following has grown, I'm seeing more hope for this becoming a full-time gig. January: Right, I’m thinking back to the times in that Silverlake apartment when we would talk about your passion and hobby for making content — and now here you are, truly diving into your love for producing videos. And how has your husband, Hanur, responded to your success and how has this career impacted your marriage? Stephanie: He is my biggest supporter, my biggest investor (haha he is now our main financial provider). Every time I have thought about quitting and looking for a corporate job, he always tells me to keep going, and to not worry about the finances. He checks my Instagram page more than I probably check it on any given day. Truly, I feel so lucky to have someone who is excited about this as he is. January: I think it’s amazing that your partner is willing to support you both financially and emotionally as well. I can see how many partners can feel threatened or resentful of your success, but I love how Hanur has truly remained as an anchor for you. In regards to your content, you have such an incredible way of balancing humor and educational elements in your short form videos. Where do you find your inspiration and fresh ideas? Stephanie: Wow, thank you! I really have no idea. And that's the complete truth. Randomly, as I'm talking to my mom, talking to my husband, watching a K-drama, cooking, I'll think of an idea and quickly type it into the Notes app. But humor is something I'm realizing I'm talented in, which has been a new [revelation] for me! I’ve always considered myself funny... to myself. But never did I think that others would truly find my ability to tell stories or educate as hilarious as it has perceived to be. It's been so validating and [humor is] a craft I want to continue to practice. 47

C O N V E R S AT I O N S

January: I always think I’m funny as well, but unfortunately, this is not universally as perceived as your sense of humor is, hahah! Steph, what has surprised you most being an influencer, and what do you find to be most gratifying? Stephanie: I have become much much muuucchhhh more introverted. Going out to see friends and engage with the real world, it takes a lot out of me. I think because on a day-to-day [basis], I am putting myself out there to share myself or make people laugh. I'm also responding to comments and messages. My energy is already at a low point so I am quickly ready to head back home when I am out with people. I am fairly surprised at myself, who has been a quintessential extrovert all her life, now having become a pretty big introvert. I've felt the most touched and encouraged, emotional even, with many [direct messages I’ve received]. I've had Korean adoptees [as well as people from different cultures] message me and tell me that watching my videos makes them learn and connect with their heritage in a new way. These types of messages are definitely the most gratifying and motivates me to keep going. January: I love that. Lastly, what are your hopes and vision for the future? Any words you might offer as encouragement to Stephanie from before this era as well as anyone who might be in your shoes? Stephanie: So many people have asked me about my vision for the future, but I really don’t have any. I mean, one would be that I can make a “cha-ching” living off of this so I don't have to go back to corporate haha. But honestly, beyond that, I really haven't thought that far. Each day, each week has been so fun and exciting just making videos, I want to live into the present as much as I can. I would tell the Stephanie before this era, "I know it's hard, but after a hard season, more often than not, comes a fruitful one! You can do it! Keep pushing through!!" January: Thank you so much Stephanie! I look forward to seeing you continue to grow and evolve as a creative and as a beautiful human being! Stephanie: It was so fun to share a little bit more about myself! Thank you!

C O N V E R S AT I O N S

REFLECTIONS

THE BUS RIDE THAT CHANGED MY LIFE Written by Andrew Cobb Photography by Bruce Chow

REFLECTIONS

It was October of my Junior year at Biola University, and I was stuck on campus, again. Being without a car for the first three years of college was fine when my friends were available to drive to Fullerton, Downtown LA, or any of the other places we’d frequent. I don’t remember the specifics of what brought on my malaise that day, but the creeping feeling of the post-grad life shift that would lose that special collectivism of my college years to the doldrums of individualism. I needed to forge my own path in life, and that day I did something that would shift my course: I took the bus. I took the La Metro 460 Bus, which runs from Downtown LA to Disneyland and, miraculously, through the transit desert of La Mirada where Biola is. I found it through the Transit App (an app I strongly recommend) a few days earlier and decided to make my journey that Friday. I left that morning with my backpack, water, and piles of quarters (how old school) and walked the mile to the bus stop. The bus quickly got up and running and began spee54

REFLECTIONS

ding past traffic on the freeway busways. I was in DTLA before long. A friend had ignited my love for DTLA years before by exploring the area's museums, landmarks, and quirks which stood in deep contrast to my urban experiences as a child which centered on the touristy parts of the Bay Area. The contrast between my suburban University (Which was founded in DTLA, but moved in 1959 amidst the “white flight” years) and DTLA was stark, but the newness of the experience and contrast also made it exciting. I wandered a lot that day, from the LA Central Library, up through Chinatown, around Dodger Stadium, to Echo Park and back. I walked 16 miles total: past the scars of highway development and “urban renewal” that divided and sacrificed the city to the automobile, past people making thousands a day and others begging for pennies, past a city with a complex and rich history. Toward the end of my day, I sat in a coffee shop, a man asked me for money and I handed him a couple of bucks. We had a conversation and I could only understand about half of what he said, but I got to hear a little about his life. He wanted me to try and google his parent's yearbook from their Arkansas HBCU, which I knew I wasn’t going to be able to find even if I could hear him clearly, but it felt like precious knowledge to be trusted with. We went our separate ways, and his kindness felt like a welcome from this place. I think that day molded my life more than I could’ve imagined. It showed me that there were paths available to me outside of the ones paved by those around me. It showed me there was life outside of the bubbles of suburbia and the worlds I grew up in. After graduation I found my faith community on Spring Street Downtown, taking the same 460 bus the first time I attended, and worshiping in a community that looked much more representative of Los Angeles including many unhoused folks like my friend in the coffee shop. That church was where I was truly discipled to live out my faith through service and social justice. Without that experience, I might not have that drive to service, found my true passion for education, or have the values that drew my wife Jenna and I together. I think there is so much we can learn when we venture out of our comfort zones, out of suburbs that were founded on segregationist ideals, out of mindsets that only work for people of privilege, and out of cars that keep us far from each other with consequences for our environment. The same region that I live comfortably in and has made many wealthy beyond belief, fosters brutal economic realities that lead to 70,000 people without homes, sky-high asthma rates in the communities that were cut up for the freeways, and countless other issues. Changing our region to love our neighbors is both a systematic and individual choice, and sacrificing comfort and familiarity needs to be on the table. I'm a strong believer in the countercultural Jesus, one who calls us to action and strive to make the earth “as it is in heaven, one who leads us to “leave our families to follow him”, or “Give to the one who begs of you”, or even take the bus. 55

REFLECTIONS

the of a dream

Written by Jon Moy Artwork by Jang Lee I remember the first time I realized that Artificial Intelligence would upend my life. 4am. Breathless. Convinced I needed a plan. I have always been too practical to be creative. Don’t blame my parents. I’ve been scared my entire life. Too worried about what other people thought, too insecure to risk not having friends or getting the girl. Too fixated on making rent or missing out on fun or looking unsuccessful. Too comfortable on my high horse to work with others, too socially awkward to know when I was just shutting people out. All the stuff that holds your art from breathing free. I was suffocating. It took me 30 years to realize that what I really wanted to do was write stories. Stories people would see in theaters and on TV. Stories that would make me Hollywood-famous and prove that I was not just a waste of space. 8 years later, I have gotten nowhere near that dream. And now it’s too late. AI is coming. It’s going to flip the world upside-down and inside-out. Warfare transformed, human-rights violations unleashed, misinformation normalized - and the creatives will not be spared. 56

We are going to lose our jobs in droves, while the survivors churn out way more work for way less money. Commercial art is going to be a rollercoaster that goes through an active volcano - on loop. [Side note: For the annoying people that say “AI’s just another tool” - HUSH. Some of us have poured too much of our souls into this just to have our hearts ripped out for stock prices and dividends.] And for those who were smart enough not to tie their artistic integrity to capitalism’s dying star - congrats, you didn’t fall for the lie that I did. Because while the actual consequences of AI are going to shake up all-of-modern-life-as-we-know-it, I’m busy fretting about paying my mortgage when my job evaporates from existence. You know, because I’m freakin’ practical.

Sometimes, you just give up. ~~~

Someone wise once said “Art is an outlet, not an output.” These days, I have been holding onto this for dear life. The truth is that there’s no contest between me and a machine trained on billions of examples and trillions of dollars. AI will spare no one. We must spare ourselves. We must set ourselves free from the lie that our art makes us who we are or makes us great or unique. We have to throw out the idea that commercial success is the only metric for greatness, or that art is solely for the act of creation. It is not. Art is for connection - with the divine.

But when I’m being honest, I worry about the stories I’ve been writing. The ones that never made it out, scattered half-finished across Notes and Drive. The ones that not even my wife has read. The stories that are just between me and God.

The times I show up to my desk and sit and stare and fuss and fret and fail and try — those times are sacred, and there is nothing that even comes close to being like it.

Why would God give me these dreams If I never get to fulfill them

So I will show up again and again to write and write and write until I have nothing left to say.

It’s paralyzing to watch the inevitable bearing down on you like a hurricane.

This is when I get to be impractical. This is when I get to breathe.

Those stories are just between me and God.

REFLECTIONS

I’VE BEEN HERE BEFORE Written by Julie Yeeun Kim Artwork by Jang Lee

Bio: Julie Yeeun Kim (@julieyeeun) is a Korean American artist, educator, and unabashed Angeleno. She likes to write about faith, family, and identity, and her stories have appeared in Inheritance Mag, Bearings Online, and Reclaim Magazine.

I am not a mystic. I’m not good at believing in spirits. But I met my ancestors once in the forest. While on a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, they came to me. The northwestern region of Spain is full of all kinds of trees, plants, and fruits. While pilgrims prayed, I picked at grapes and berries and plums, filling my mouth. I ran my fingers across the bumpy nodes of a vine, one leaf producing another that produces another, leaving behind a cesarean scar running its length. My feet knew what to do far better than my mind did. One foot hit the ground as the other lifted. The foot hit the ground as the other lifted. My right foot planted into the dirt as my left leg rose. That was when the thought first came to me. Walking is a part of my history, too. I followed the tugs, one after another. What is the difference between a pilgrim and a refugee? How many miles is it from Seoul to Busan? What kinds of plants did they see? Or was the situation too tense to notice such things? I came to the fork in the road which caught me unaware. I scanned the area until I found a yellow arrow indicating the way. Almost instinctively one foot hit the ground as the other lifted. My right foot fell onto the dirt path as my left leg rose. At what point did their feet begin to hurt, I wonder? When did the children start complaining? When did they run out of water? Did they weep on the way, or were they too sweaty tired stunned to cry? I am not a mystic. I’m not good at believing in spirits. That’s why I denied them at first. When I heard the first set of feet crunching on the rocks beside me it was easy to dismiss it as a flight of imagination. It’s easy to ignore two sets of feet, even three, but there is no way to escape a crammed mind, especially not when your elders call you.

REFLECTIONS

One by one they gathered around me, the living young and the dead alive again. My great grandmother’s forehead was full of lines like a map leading to the graves of her two children she worried she’d never find again. Behind her are two of her five living children whining about heat and hunger. Beside her is her oldest son, my great uncle, the boy turned man of the house. Behind them all walks my grandmother, the eldest, a new mother with a baby on her back. I am not a mystic. I’m not good at believing in spirits. But I knew then that I was walking in their company. I see myself wrap a little one on my back with a cloth and take the bojagi from my elder’s hand. I feel the weight both lift and settle. I join their two hundred mile walk to life. Is it possible to remember something you’ve never known? To reach back into history across decades and lift a burden? Can 1950 and 2023 meet in something other than the five senses? I’m not a mystic. Yet I’ve been to a place where imagination and memory collapse into one another, caught in a deep reverent bow. If I feel heavier thinking back on my ancestors, could it be that they felt lighter thinking forward on their descendants? Maybe as they walked, they felt the weight lift, if only a little, as they imagined a future for the grateful living who remember their treacherous search for life long before we were. I’m not good at believing in spirits. But I am a human being with a family and a story, with people before and behind me, a great cloud of witnesses covering me. That is why, when my ancestors left me, when our paths finally diverged, I thought, I’ve been here before. Each time I was braver than I had ever been, more resilient than I statistically and biologically should have been, fired up by a mysterious fuel, I know now that it was in fact the hands of each of my ancestors pressed against my back pushing me pushing me pushing me, adding to me what’s left of their strength–their names, memories, jeong, and han. Pushing me pushing me pushing me. I live because they walked. And I will walk because they live. Sometimes I am able to feel their prayers spoken sung groaned wailed whispered over me. Prayers that were not even about me now are because I am their living, a new node on an endless cord pushing our shared lives forward. I tore my way into this world as one of them, and one day I will be torn, left with a scar running across my belly, my memory and legacy, and all the lengths that I have. Their longings for God, and all the other names of God to which they plead, have survived war displacement migration hunger grief disease age and, finally, even death. In death they pray, and the living walk by it.

MUSIC

Hideaway Lyric Book 62

MUSIC

All of these songs have been comforting and revelatory throughout specific moments of my own turbulent definition of self. They have helped me navigate new beginnings brought about by death, the embracing of queer identity, transformations of faith, and the strange in between of moving from your early to late twenties. For me, music is more than art, more than worship—it has been my first language, my mother tongue, and sometimes, the very thing that seems to sustain me most in life. The Divine speaks, holds, and feeds through songs and in recording these few tracks, I wanted to invite people into the safe space I have found in these words and melodies and arrangements. And even more simply, I recorded these songs because someone believed that I could. Hideaway (Mide’s 1st EP) - Produced by January Lim for Evergreen LA Mixed and Mastered by Colin Althaus Album Art Design by January Lim Copyright 2023

I am troubled, yet not distressed Perplexed, but not in despair I'm a vessel full of power With a treasure, none can compare Persecuted, but not forsaken Cast down, but not destroyed I'm a vessel full of power I've got a treasure from the Lord

SPOTIFY LINK

Bruised and battered but not broken Born in sin but from sin set free I am a vessel full of power With a treasure from the Lord 63

MUSIC

Nobody knows the trouble I've seen Nobody knows my sorrow Nobody knows the trouble I've seen Glory, Hallelujah Nobody knows the trouble I've seen Nobody knows but Jesus Nobody knows the trouble I've seen Glory, Hallelujah Sometimes I'm up Sometimes I'm down Oh, yes, Lord Sometimes I'm almost to the ground Oh, yes, Lord Nobody knows the trouble I've seen Nobody knows but Jesus Nobody knows the trouble I've seen Glory, Hallelujah If you get there Before I do Oh, yes, Lord Tell all my friends I’m coming too Oh, yes, Lord

MUSIC

I Know

Written by MUNA (Catherine Gavin, Naomi McPherson, Josette Maskin) | Copyright 2016 RCA Records Performed & Arranged by Mide Kolawole, Joel Yoshonis, Colin Althaus & January Lim Produced by January Lim & Colin Althaus Copyright 2023

I knew When you told me you don't wanna go home tonight And you tried to just shrug it off when I asked you why Somebody hurt you Somebody hurt you But you're here by my side And I knew 'Cause I can recall when I was the one in your seat I still got the scars and they occasionally bleed 'Cause somebody hurt me Somebody hurt me But I'm staying alive And I can tell When you get nervous You think being yourself means being unworthy And it's hard to love with a heart that's hurting But if you want to go out dancing I know a place I know a place we can go Where everyone gonna lay down their weapon Lay down their weapon Just give me trust and watch what'll happen

MUSIC

a place 'Cause I know I know a place we can run Where everyone gonna lay down their weapon Lay down their weapon Don't you be afraid of love and affection Just lay down your weapon

'Cause I know I know a place we can run Where everyone gonna lay down their weapon Lay down their weapon Don't you be afraid of love and affection Just lay down your weapon

Right now It's like you're carrying all the weight of your past I could tell all your bruises, yellow, dark blue, and black But baby a bruise is, only your body Tryna keep you intact

They will try to make you unhappy Don't let them They will try to tell you you're not free Don't listen I, I know a place where you don't need protection Even if it's only in my imagination

So right now I think we should go get drunk on cheap wine I think we should hop on the purple line 'Cause maybe our purpose Is to never give up when we're on the right track

I, I know a place we can go Where everyone gonna lay down their weapon Lay down their weapon Just give me trust and anything can happen

And I can tell When you get nervous You think being yourself means being unworthy And it's hard to love with a heart that's hurting But if you want to go out dancing

'Cause I know I know a place we can go Where everyone gonna lay down their weapon Lay down their weapon Just give me trust and watch what'll happen

I know a place I know a place we can go Where everyone gonna lay down their weapon Lay down their weapon Just give me trust and watch what'll happen

'Cause I know I know a place we can stay Where everyone gonna lay down their weapon Lay down their weapon Don't you be afraid of love and affection Just lay down your weapon

MUSIC

Give

me Jesus

In the morning, when I rise In the morning, when I rise In the morning, when I rise Give me Jesus Give me Jesus Give me Jesus You can have all this world Give me Jesus. When I am alone Oh, when I am alone Oh, when I am alone Give me Jesus. Give me Jesus Give me Jesus You can have all this world Give me Jesus Give me Jesus Give me Jesus When I come to die Oh, when I come to die Oh, when I come to die Give me Jesus Give me Jesus

DEVOTIONAL

Again and Again – John 3: 3 Written by Virgil Lew Artwork by Julia Hendrickson

“I tell you the truth, no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again [and again].” There is something about daily repetition that sustains us. If it weren’t for the practice of doing something over and over again, our lives would not have stability or structure. Similarly, our spiritual life is composed of repeated spiritual activities, such as prayer, worship, scripture study, and the like. John 3:3 embodies and describes, in its deepest truth, a form of spiritual repetition. Repeating spiritual practices can lead us to a deeper relationship with God and others. How so? Jesus said to Nicodemus, “I tell you the truth, no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again”. As confused as Nicodemus was then, we too fall into the same boat. Here, something deep is emerging and Jesus is offering him a real experience of rebirth that demolishes all his religious understandings. Our daily lives are composed of ordinary repeated activities, such as brushing our teeth, eating meals, taking the same steps to the office, etc. You get the idea. Could it be that perceiving the kingdom of God is embedded in everyday occurrences such as these? Elizabeth Browning wrote, “Earth’s crammed with heaven, and every common bush afire with God: But only he who sees, takes off his shoes.” (Emphasis is mine, Nourishing Narrative, p. 43) In John 3:5, Jesus further explains to Nicodemus, “I tell you the truth, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless he is born of water and the Spirit”. Water and Spirit represent two sides of the same spiritual coin. The Spirit equips us with spiritual seeing. The Spirit reveals to our spirit heavenly things present to us here and now. “[B]eing born again” implies “from above”. There is an eternal view in this message. Abraham Joshua Heschel, a Jewish theologian, wrote these timely words: “To witness the perpetual marvel of the world’s coming into being is to sense the presence of the Giver in the given, to realize that the source of time is eternity, that the secret of being is the eternal within time.” (The Sabbath, p. 101). 71

DEVOTIONAL

“[T]he presence of the Giver” and “the secret of the being is the eternal within time” connect us with God even when we are not mindful of this mysterious truth. How, then, can we reframe our activities to reflect this outflow of grace and blessing? Therefore, what we see, experience and take into ourselves can become the grammar of grace. Each and every day our lives can fully embody the kingdom as Jesus intended from these words in the Gospel of John.

Questions for Reflection 1. What does it mean to you personally when you hear, “You must be born again”? 2. What would it mean to you to pay attention more deeply to the ordinary things you do? How is God working or revealing God’s self to you through these simple things? 3. What special thing do you see in others which causes you to calibrate your appreciation for them? How can you bless them for their giftedness?

BIBLIOGRAPHY Again and Again – John 3:3 [Note: Resources below were used as collateral readings for the devotion.] Brown, Raymond, S. S. The Gospel According to John (i-xii): Introduction, Translation, and Notes, The Anchor Bible Series. Doubleday & Company, Inc.: New York, New York, 1966, 538 pp. Christie, Douglas. The Blue Sapphire of the Mind: Notes for a Contemplative Ecology. Oxford University Press: New York, New York, 2013, 464 pp. Heschel, Abraham Joshua. The Sabbath: Its Meaning for Modern Man. Farrar, Straus and Giroux: New York, New York, eleventh printing 1985, 118 pp. Horowitz, Alexandra. On Looking: Eleven Walks with Expert Eyes. Scribner: New York, New York, 2013, 308 pp. Holberg, Jennifer L. Nourishing Narrative: The Power of Story to Shape Our Faith. Intervarsity Press: Downers Grove, Illinois, 2023, 230 pp. Tishman, Shari. Slow Looking: The Art and Practice of Learning Through Observation. Routledge: New York, New York, 2018, 155 pp. Wright, N. T. John for Everyone, Part 1 Chapters 1 – 10. Westminster John Knox Press: Louisville, Ky, 2004, 180 pp.

DEVOTIONAL

PLACES OF FAITH BEGINNINGS Written by Bruce Chow Artwork by Julia Hendrickson 73

DEVOTIONAL

How does faith begin in me when by nature I do not seek God? Does not God himself stir my soul and beckon me from within even before I am aware of it? I put myself into the lives of two biblical characters to explore how this could possibly happen.

THE ROAD (LUKE 24) A three-hour walk down the road to Emmaus is enough time to lament the death of Jesus. I was midway down the road of my life when the rudiments of my faith—planted when I met this man named Jesus three years ago— blossomed into a new beginning; one of fullness of personal relationship with the God of the universe. In those three years, I saw Jesus raise the dead and heal diseases. He spoke truth in ways that we could understand, using examples of farming, fishing, and pottery; not the language of scholars. He taught that God cared about our daily lives, that God even cared for sparrows and that we were more valuable than sparrows to Him. I knew Jesus as a man, the carpenter given great power from God. To me, he was a prophet at most, and importantly, still just a man. I followed him as a disciple along the roads that took us to the towns in Galilee and Judea, and faith in him was like following David or Elijah, my heroes from history. I wanted him to be our Messiah and to free us from the yoke of the Romans who massacre our people at the slightest hint of disloyalty. Pax romana is a misnomer for anyone except the Romans, but it was our own leaders who betrayed Jesus to these same Romans in order to crucify him. My hopes and dreams for a new beginning for a free Israel died with my hero. Somewhere along the road to Emmaus, a stranger joined our walk and our conversation about Jesus. Sounding at first like he was unaware of Jesus’ death, he had an uncanny understanding of why the very things that we lamented happened. It was clear that he studied the Torah long past the requirement for bar mitzvah. This Messiah, he explained, bore our sorrows, was pieced for our sins, and endured unbelievable pain, and then was satisfied like a mother giving birth at the end of it. The redemption of Israel was not a political takeover, but rather tearing the veil that separated us from the very heart of God. The new beginning was within us. No wonder these words burned in my heart as we walked. I was both comforted and filled with a great yearning at the same time. I did not perceive that we were walking with God himself, not just a man, until the instant that he disappeared as he broke bread with us. Then came my new beginning. That’s when I suddenly knew Emanuel, “God with Us.” Funny, it all began along a road.

DEVOTIONAL

THE RIVER (2 KINGS 5) I was victorious in all my military dealings with the nations around my native Aram. I had no need of anything except one: to cure my leprosy, these white patches on my skin like snow, under which I could feel nothing. I was quietly terrified. It was only my military discipline that kept me focused on my service to the king of Aram, rather than sinking into fear and shame. The origin of my faith in the God of the universe came before I was even aware of it. This very death sentence was also God’s whispered beckoning to me to seek Him, though at the time I did not perceive it as such nor was I interested in anything but the gods of Aram. A little servant girl, captured from Israel, spoke to my wife of a prophet in Israel who could cure me. Desperation led me to seek a cure anywhere there was a glimmer of hope, even outside of my own country and faith. My request to seek this prophet and a cure was granted by the king, and I went, half skeptical, half hopeful, seeking to see a spectacle worthy of my distinguished military position and to be free of this disease that would soon banish me to isolation and death. It was an insult! Elisha the prophet wouldn’t even meet me in person, but instead sent a messenger telling me to wash in the River Jordan seven times. Why wash in an Israeli river? I could do that in any of the rivers of Damascus. Why not call on the God of Israel there and then in front of everyone? When my rage subsided, I reluctantly gave in. I stood in the cold, muddy River Jordan still resenting being told by a messenger to bathe seven times. Seven times? Why not once? Seven times. OK OK…. One – that water is cold! Two. Three – isn’t this enough? Four. OK, I’ve gone this far. Five. Six. My heart raced. Could this really happening or am I being taken for a fool in front of my officers and soldier cohort? Seven. Time slowed down. It was an eternity until I could see where those snow white blotches had been. That’s right: had been. I now enter the temple of Rimmon with my master the king of Aram out of obedience to him. I do this with a pardon from the God of Israel granted through Elisha. “Go in Peace,” he had said. I go with the hope that my master the king would one day inquire of my encounter with the God above all gods, and that his heart, like mine, would be stirred, open to the beginnings of faith. The river of life awaits him.

DEVOTIONAL

PASTORAL COLUMN

A New Thing Written by Julie Ono

have wanted to be a missionary since I can remember. It’s in my blood. My grandparents set sail for the Democratic Republic of Congo in 1924 for a life of service. Out of their 5 boys, my dad being the youngest, 3 went into full-time mission work. Four of their grandchildren also served in missions overseas. I was born in Jerusalem and lived there until I was six while my parents were serving with International Ministries. When I was in college, my parents were re-comissioned for 7 more years, this time serving in Eastern Europe. I started my own experiences with outreaches in Ensenada when I was 13. My whole life I have been drawn to other cultures, languages, and other ways of life and experiencing God. After graduating from college, I moved to Pasadena to pursue a degree in Intercultural Studies at Fuller. My time there was so rich as I sat in classes with students from all over the world who had the same deep desire to minister cross-culturally (or were already doing it). In my mind, there was no doubt God’s plan was also for me to go, even though I’d never really asked. When I was 12, I remember a clear sense of calling into pastoral ministry, specifically to children, one Sunday morning. But as I grew and experienced cross-cultural ministry, I kind of forgot about it. The first ¾ of my time in seminary I was holding tightly to my desires and was sure I’d be on an airplane to some exotic destination the day after graduation. Then I went through a time of depression and found myself completely broken. The pressure I was putting on myself to continue the legacy of my family was causing me so much stress that I was crumbling. I had put overseas mission work on a pedestal, instead of recognizing the call on each one of us to share God’s love in our own contexts. The truth was that the fear of disappointing people or being judged by people as a sell-out was keeping me going towards this goal. My classes and interactions with peers and professors had been expanding my perception of ministry and slowly been undoing the “ministry hierarchy” I had unknowingly formed in my mind. God didn’t want my service to be driven by pride or fear, but rather of quiet humility and surrender. My identity was so tied to my family and where I was serving God that I forgot the reasons why I felt called to full time ministry in the first place. In my depression, I surrendered and asked God to rebuild my identity in our relationship.

See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland. —Isaiah 43:19 78

PASTORAL COLUMN

w ne a r o f g in k oo l are e w , d w l o ou n k sh you k “You in h t I . r o st pa s children’ . ” g in y l pp a t ou ab think

PASTORAL COLUMN

Three months before finishing up at Fuller, I was finally able to let go of my plans for my future and my fear of disappointing people. I was able to express my devotion to God EVEN IF it didn’t mean serving as a full-time overseas missionary. My depression faded as I realized how freeing it was to live without all the pressure I was putting on myself. I started opening my heart to other possibilities and ministerial vocations. A week before graduation, my church had a bbq after service, and I found myself the last in line next to our moderator. I had hardly spoken to him before and I was surprised he knew who I was. As we started talking, he leaned over and said quietly to me “You know, we are looking for a new children’s pastor. I think you should think about applying”. You can imagine my surprise! This man knew nothing about the process I had been going through in surrendering to God, or even that I felt called to work with children. I had never volunteered once with the children’s ministry in my 2 years there. The other thing that surprised me even more was my excitement at his suggestion. I started having all these ideas and hopes about children’s ministry. I started dreaming about being a pastor! Though the position at my church didn’t work out, three weeks later I was interviewing for a full time position as a children’s pastor at a church in Covina. I served there for 4 years, and have now been at Evergreen for 12. I wouldn’t say that my desire to be a missionary has ever been fully “put to death;” it really is in my blood. It might seem like the new thing birthed in me was the call to pastoral ministry. However, I think the real new thing was allowing myself to accept God’s deep love for me regardless of what I do or where I go. I truly have no regrets! I LOVE being a pastor. Surrendering my pride and fear to God has meant this whole, deeply meaningful life as a pastor that I never would have dreamed of. And God met my need for cross-cultural ministry by giving me a cross-cultural marriage and 4 amazing bi-cultural kids. He has also provided churches that have recognized my love for missions and allowed me to go on and lead many short term mission trips. I love how God has intertwined all the parts of me into my ministerial calling. May God give each of us the strength to surrender our lives completely, trusting that when God does a new thing in our lives, the old is also woven in to give us new life, a new vision, and a new hope.

k oo l are e w , d w l o ou n k sh ou you Y k in h t I . r o st pa s ’ n re d l i ch . ” g in y l pp a t ou ab hink

See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.

to be continued...

An Evergreen Creatives Initiative