Vol. 1 6 No. 2 // Fall 2020
LETTER FROM THE EDITOR For the better part of 2020, COVID-19 ravaged the world. But this was just the tip of the iceberg. As the year ends, we find ourselves battling not only pandemic fatigue, but also economic ruin, social unrest, and political division. I’m not into cancel culture, but I’d really like to cancel 2020. Realistically speaking, though, will 2021 be any better? A coronavirus vaccine is not a cure, and economies take time to rebuild. Thousands of jobs have been lost, and millions have slipped into poverty. Even a newly elected president can’t prevent the fallout from one of the most disastrous years in history. In the famous Sermon on the Mount, Jesus had the audacity to call a crowd of poor, hungry, and oppressed people “blessed.” His words seem uncharacteristically insensitive and tone deaf, but in them we find a key gospel principle: Need is not necessarily an indicator of curse but a precursor to blessing. Lack creates an opportunity for God to enter and work in our midst. This same principle brought Jesus into the world to address death (AKA lack of life) and bring life eternal. It may seem odd or even absurd, but at the end of this awful year, let’s decide to see ourselves as blessed. And as we do our part to alleviate the need and lack of those around us, let’s do so in hopeful anticipation of God’s restoration.
This publication is published by New York University students and NYU is not responsible for its contents.
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The Antidote to Anxiety: Create a Habit of God Chrissie Chua
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Being a Christian takes faith in Jesus. But living as a Christian requires time and consistency, as well, because believing in Jesus doesn’t automatically protect you from experiencing anxiety. Last year, I experienced random waves of familial stress which added to my already dense load of worries and fears. I knew I had to create a habit of inviting God into my life because whenever I invited Him in, I felt a sense of peace that actually lasted. Like many believers, I don’t naturally wake up feeling God’s presence in my life—I have to actively invite Him in. Whenever I was experiencing anxiety, I would wake up with a heavy chest. It felt awful, as if I had just woken up from a bad dream. Starting your day right is important for the rest of your day, so I inundated my mornings with Christ. I started listening to worship music on the way to and during my morning workouts at the gym. YouTube sermons became a part of my morning commute. And on my way home, I read a devotional to wrap up my day. I continued this routine for a year, and while there were days when I had motivation slumps, slowly my anxious mornings were filled with a sense of calm and silence that saturated my heavily beating chest. This habit allowed me to finally feel God’s presence in a stressful and fast-paced world. With the pandemic, it’s harder for me to keep up this routine, since I only commute to work once a week. However, I’m thankful for this habit I’ve created. It’s through this consistent repetition that I was able to heighten my sensitivity to God. Nowadays, whenever I go to the gym or take long walks, I take the opportunity to listen to sermons. Even though it’s not as much as before, this habit of actively inviting God into my day has lessened my anxiety and filled me with trust and peace in Him.
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The Preacher Who Interrupted the Gang Trial Abigail Lee
Times Square’s bright, dazzling lights hide a darker, grimmer story. Once populated by violent street gangs, drug dealers, and pimps, “Slime Square” attracted crowds not for Broadway shows but for peep shows. For this haven of the destitute and dangerous, who did God call? In 1958, recently-ordained minister David Wilkerson casually flipped through Life Magazine when he saw mug shots of seven sullen boys—gang members charged with the murder of fifteen-year old Michael Farmer. To his surprise, tears filled his eyes and a clear thought sprung to mind: Go to New York City and help those boys. A third-generation Pentecostal preacher, Wilkerson pastored small churches in his home state of Pennsylvania. But God had other plans. The Holy Spirit convicted the small town minister to set off to the big city to reach out to the gang members on trial. When Wilkerson entered the courtroom and requested to speak to the accused, he was thrown out by the judge.
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Ashamed but undeterred, he continued to reach out to the gang population. To his amazement, some welcomed him as the preacher “who had interrupted the gang trial.” Over the next few months, Wilkerson traveled to New York once a week, preaching and meeting with gang members and addicts. One day, he came face-to-face with Nicky Cruz, the leader of the Mau Maus, considered the most violent teenage gang in New York. Nicky cursed, hit, and spat at Wilkerson, rejecting his message. Wilkerson declared, “You could cut me up into a thousand pieces and lay them in the street. Every piece will still love you.” Unable to shake these words from his mind, Nicky, along with the Mau Maus and other rival gangs, attended a rally Wilkerson held in St. Nicholas Boxing Area. When Wilkerson prayed and the presence of the Holy Spirit filled the room, Nicky and his gang surrendered their lives to Jesus. Wilkerson died on April 27, 2011, in a car crash, but his legacy lives on. His programs, Teen Challenge, Youth Crusades, and Cure Corps, continue to reach out to the addicted, the abused, and the neglected. And Times Square Church, which he founded in 1987, continues to carry out the Gospel message to the destitute and dangerous of today.
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Truth Alyson Ferro
I celebrated my birthday this fall by perusing expansive museums in Washington, D.C., a somber but welcome reprieve from being cooped up at home. One of my stops included Ford’s Theatre where President Abraham Lincoln was assassinated. It was surreal to read about racial inequality and the Civil War, all while history would be made in two days on November 3rd. Abraham Lincoln once said, “Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?” In this time of political division, who do we perceive to be our enemy: the man driving a truck with a Trump flag or our neighbor whose lawn displays a “BidenHarris” sign? The answer is neither. Our true enemies are injustice and hatred—enemies we fight with our votes and our voices. And though our brothers and sisters on the other side of the political divide may embody these qualities, they themselves are not our enemies. I wrote these lyrics on election night as we awaited our next President Elect. Though I felt strongly about my personal choice of candidate, I could not help but wonder, “Is there any winning in this?” Even if my candidate won and my truth became reality, this would pale in comparison to the great divide in our nation.
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Ultimately, I know that while upholding truth is absolutely essential, showing understanding and compassion to those who disagree with me is equally so. Verse Sticks and stones may hurt me, But these words will leave a scar I can’t find a way to reconcile Who I am and who you are Now we are at a standstill And I see a wall so great Can clinging to my truth Be enough to pave a way? Chorus For what is “truth” to those who See a world in different shades than mine Who cling to what’s familiar, who are afraid to be denied? And what is “truth” if we can’t listen To the voices that rise up? Powerless and privileged, knowing and uncertain What is truth if we’re split apart?
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Memento Mori Joseph Shin
My friend stands at the edge of his life Peering over the cliff at certain death, an intentional death He smiles, but he is about to cry He is still, but his body quietly trembles He looks at me, but all he can see is himself “Why?” he asks I stand a few feet away with my hand out to him “Happiness,” I say He takes a step toward the edge I flinch and reevaluate “Family,” I plead, as my hand starts to shake He looks at me, then looks again over the edge “Over!” he yells, and I see the hopelessness I take a step toward him “Now,” I say, as my body starts to shiver He takes another step One more and he’s gone, down into the depths He looks back at me, now with tears in his eyes “Why?” he whispers
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“Purpose,” I This is the e But he pause Is having a p Can it sustai
I take a leap He’s startled He’s facing “Eternal,” I But the truth
He does the He takes one And another And another Each step is His face is w He takes my
I say, and at any second, I could crumble end, a failure es, and thinks about this purpose in life enough? in a miserable existence?
p and yell, “Grace!� d but he’s no longer looking over the edge me and I can feel the conflict in him say, not quite sure what I mean h is bigger than me
unthinkable e step towards me r r a million steps wet with tears y hand and we embrace
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What Really Matters Temistocles Molinar, Jr.
I have never been a political person. To me, politics always felt (and still does feel) like an unnecessary burden. However, in spite of this sentiment, I experienced a bit of a political awakening this year due to the social unrest following the death of George Floyd under the knee of Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin. When I first saw this awful video, I simply saw a man doing something terrible to another man. Thus, I was completely baffled when what seemed like the entire world instantly declared the death of George Floyd to be the result of racism for no apparent reason other than the skin colors of the victim and the perpetrator. People around me concluded that George Floyd’s death was likely the result of racism because black people have a higher probability of being killed by police than white people. However, just as it is wrong to assume that correlation is the result of causation, it is wrong to assume that disparity is the result of discrimination. We can easily see this by acknowledging the fact that the vast majority of people
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killed by police are men. Does this also mean that police are incredibly sexist? It is clear that we must account for the effect of variables other than race (such as crime rates, poverty levels, etc.) when attempting to determine whether or not racial disparities in police killings are due to racism, and social science researchers are currently trying to determine the effect of these confounding variables. The reasoning I just laid out—among other things—has definitely caused me to question my political indifference and choose a stance that is consistent with my views. However, although politics matters to a certain extent, I am far less concerned with politics than I am with the status of my faith in Jesus Christ. As a Christian, my hope lies not in politics, but rather in my struggle to know Jesus Christ and to become more like him by loving God as he loved God and loving people as he loved people. I believe that our faith transcends politics and that it has more power to change the world than any political movement.
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The Ethiopian Eunuch Anonymous Contributor
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In Acts 8, Luke records the conversion of an Ethiopian eunuch, the first gentile to be baptized. The eunuch was on his way back home from a pilgrimage to Jerusalem when he ran into Philip the Evangelist. After a brief Bible study, the eunuch abruptly stopped his journey and requested an impromptu baptism: “Look, here is water. What can stand in the way of my being baptised?� (Acts 8:36 NIV) As both an Ethiopian and a eunuch, this man was an outsider twice over. Gentiles were not allowed in the Temple beyond the
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Court of Gentiles (Acts 21:28-29), and eunuchs could not even “enter the assembly of the LORD” (Deuteronomy 23:1). Eunuchs were discriminated against and rejected by their fellow believers and their doctrines. Despite this, he was somehow drawn to God to such an extent that he traveled 3,000 miles to worship in Jerusalem. Luke does not specify what Philip said to the eunuch. We are told that he was reading Isaiah 53. Perhaps Philip pointed out a passage just a bit further along where eunuchs are not only allowed in the Temple but also given a position of prominence, and the Temple is declared a “house of prayer for all nations” (Isaiah 56:4-8). He must have talked of the one who fulfilled Isaiah’s prophecies, Jesus, who said that some are eunuchs because of the kingdom of heaven (Matthew 19:12). Upon hearing Philip’s message, the eunuch requested immediate membership into this new faith. Having been turned away from places of worship in the past, he must’ve thought there was a catch—something that was required of him first. But Philip’s response was immediate: “Then both Philip and the eunuch went down into the water and Philip baptized him” (Acts 8:38). The eunuch didn’t need to be “fixed” or “healed.” He was welcomed just the way he was, regardless of race or sexuality. The eunuch had found his church.
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The Best Medicine Yvette Shin
On March 4th of this year, I won a $10 ticket to see Hamilton on Broadway. When ushered to my second row orchestra seat, I almost lost my mind. The lights dimmed, and I escaped to colonial America for the next two hours and forty minutes. Contentedly humming “I’m not throwin’ away my shot” on the subway ride home, I thanked God for the opportunity of a lifetime and anticipated what other surprises 2020 had in store. Then eight days later the world changed. Living in the epicenter of a global pandemic was terrifying. And just as we were adjusting to the new normal of social distancing came the tragic death of George Floyd. Frustration drove thousands into the streets while I mourned at home for the victims of both disease and injustice. And then there was the inane politics, which reduced every problem into a simple matter of red versus blue. Never in my life have I prayed or cried so much. But one day in August, I saw a bumper sticker that read, Any Functioning Adult 2020
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I laughed so hard people turned to look at me. I snapped a pic then thanked God for giving me a few moments of much-needed levity in this miserable year. God brings laughter in unexpected ways. In Genesis, when barren Sarah is told by a messenger of God that she will give birth in a year’s time, she laughs sarcastically. But upon the birth of her son Isaac (which means “he laughs”), Sarah says, “God has brought me laughter, and everyone who hears about this will laugh with me” (Genesis 21:6 NIV). Sarah’s laughter was a testament to the faithfulness and power of God who turned her laughter of unbelief into the laughter of disbelief. It may be unfair to equate my laughter with Sarah’s, but I’m doing it anyway because it’s important to acknowledge God’s presence, even in small moments like these. May God bless 2020 to conclude with a hope to end COVID, peace among our citizens, and leadership that brings unity. And may He bring laughter—lots and lots of laughter—in 2021.
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Contributors Chrissie Chua Alyson Ferro Abigail Lee Temistocles Molinar, Jr. Joseph Shin Rebekah Shin Yvette Shin
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Matthew 5:3 NIV