On Job Descriptions...

I had a sobering realisation recently: I know how to be a Christian in a pre-Christian world, but I don’t know how to be a pastor in a post-Christian world.

Let me begin with a disclaimer that for the purpose of this post, I use the words “Christian,” “pre-Christian world,” “pastor” and “post-Christian world” in the traditional evangelical sense.

Coming back from my month of travels meant it was time to tackle my application for permanent residency in New Zealand. All the paperwork I had been waiting for had arrived, and I didn’t need to use my passport again till August at the earliest. All that was left was a letter from my higher-ups saying that my continued presence at the job is necessary for the religious work in New Zealand to move forward, and a job description.

Ahh… That job description.

As mentioned in previous posts, I created my own job and the higher-ups signed off on it. All that we knew at the very beginning was that there was a need for a Christ community to be present in the city; the rest was up to me to figure out.

Well, great. That’s a great job description to send in to the immigration office, aye?

In the last few weeks I’ve had a bit of anxiety over how to describe my job in a way that, as my friend Baruk says, “checks all the boxes in any application form”. Part of the problem came about when I decided to take Ingress more seriously.

What is Ingress? The simplest way to describe it is that it’s an alternate reality game owned by Google. It’s a little bit like geocaching, a little bit like Risk. As explained by my brother, the story goes that there are a bunch of aliens (the Enlightened) that want to dominate the world through portals around the world. The humans (the Resistance) are trying to stop them by taking over these portals.

The reality is that the way this game plays out, neither of those teams stand a chance at real world domination. It’s kind of like playing Age of Empires with friends who are equal-leveled players on each side. I know, the struggle is real.

Until recently, I mostly played the game by myself even though I knew there was a strong Resistance (Go Smurfs!) community in Auckland. But last Thursday, I took a chance and went to one of their events. I’ll spare you the nerdy game details, but it included dinner at the night market, going to the park to work out our next game play.

Needless to say, I was scared out of my mind because my introvert was screaming, HELP HELP HELP, I don’t know how to deal with new social situations. But my curious anthropologist always wins out in these situations.

How does community play out in this gaming world?

Are they friendly?

Will they judge me if I don’t take their gaming seriously enough?

How will I introduce myself?

By my real name, or by my gamer profile?

And what if they ask me what I did for a living?

Crap. That dastardly job description thing again.

Well, thankfully with gamers (this group anyway), as long as you speak enough gaming, they’ll be friendly to you. We finished what we set out to do, nobody asked too many questions, and thankfully it was a weeknight so I had the excuse that I needed to head home so I didn’t have to engage in too much post-game pleasantries.

The next night, they had another social event in a bar. It made me even more nervous because the introvert doesn’t enjoy the bar scene, and (gasp!) what if the Church people knew I was hanging out at the bar?? But I decided to make an appearance and not stay long.

That was when I learnt about the spirit of the game. Yes, it is competitive. But there are a few things I learnt that make it more fun, and also things that can be quite handy to keep in mind as I continue creating “my job”:

1) Community means team
Friday night’s event began with someone asking if anyone was free to help level up a lower level player. One of the things I love about this game is the ethics of it. If you are level 8 or higher, you are expected to set things up to help those at a lower level to level up faster. Yes, I’m still a social justice nerd even in the gaming world. What? It probably is against the ethics of this game to do an anthropological study of it, but I can’t help myself.
As the new kid on the team strategy block, a few of them sat down with me to share tips and offered a few spots where I can capture the portals and they would keep watch on them for me. Let’s just say, it’s also more fun to do things that way.

2) Community means acceptance
Well, the event ended up evolving into a celebration for an Enlightened player who had just hit level 16 (the highest level in the game). There were a lot more Resistance players there for the celebration than there were from her own team.
The first person I spotted was a guy that I had ran into while gaming in the CBD about a week ago. I was greeted with a big hug like an old friend, and introduced to the rest of the team. There were no questions asked about life stories or religious or political views, which was a very refreshing change. They had recruited the bar manager to the Resistance side, so our team got tap beers for $5 and the guy who had developed the relationship with the bar manager over time shouted drinks for anyone who wanted one. People simply belonged because they shared that common identity: being a part of the Resistance. And as evidenced by that night, you don’t even have to be a part of the same team for us to be friendly with each other. What a novel concept!

Well, back to what I was saying about my job description…

After the night at the night market, I began to realize I needed to figure out a new way to talk about what I do. In prior experiences, whenever I say I’m a pastor, I get one of four responses:

1) They suddenly treat me with a great deal of respect like I’m some kind of saint. Ask any of the crazy kids who hang out with us at The Bridge. I’m not THAT kind of pastor.
2) They try to engage in some deep theological debate that I feel completely inadequate and uncomfortable doing in a big (more than 2-3 people) social setting because I don’t know the crowd well enough to really speak my mind theologically yet.
3) They ask, “What’s that?” and I don’t really know how to explain that I am affiliated with the Church, but I don’t preach and teach in that traditional sense, and no, I’m not the Sunday morning type of pastor.
4) They awkwardly change the subject or walk away.

That’s when I realized: I’ve known for a long time how to be a Christian in a pre-Christian world, but I don’t know how to be a pastor in a post-Christian world.

Most of my best friends growing up didn’t share my religion or faith and we’ve always gotten along. They celebrated my ordination like they would have for any graduations, job promotions or weddings, and my becoming an ordained pastor doesn’t change anything about our friendship; it’s just something I do as a job (or vocation).

The problem is I live in Auckland. Now that I’ve lived here nearly four years, I’m getting a better understanding of what post-Christianity means in Auckland. It’s weird enough to say I’m a Christian; it gets even weirder when I say I work with a church because there's either no understanding, or a negative experience of church.

But I didn’t want to be that Christian kid in high school who hides that I’m a Christian because I’m afraid I would be teased. Besides, my very clever church health consultant friend, Brett had been encouraging me to find a way to describe what I do that would make sense to both the Christian and post-Christian worlds and not threatening either. I decided that I would start saying I’m a community developer by day (and church planter by night, if they ask).

I tested the waters with that on Friday night. As with most social settings where I’m uncomfortable, “watch and learn” has become a lifelong mantra. The first time the “what do you do?” question came up, I took a deep breath to remind myself I’m learning to speak a different language. It went something like that:

Me: I’m a community developer.
Her: Oh, cool! With what organization?
Me: Umm… (Well, clearly I hadn’t thought this through very well) A church?
Her: Oh. (Turns away long enough for me to start getting super anxious). Well, that guy over there? He’s done some church work too.
Me: Oh, cool.
Her: (Slowly walks away)
Me: (Well, that went REALLY well. Next time this comes up, you better have a better game plan.)

So later that night, the guy who’s done some church work comes over to discuss game strategy. It comes up again…

Me: I’m a community developer.
Him: (I catch a glimpse of a knowing look on his face) Oh, nice. With what organization?
Me: (Trying to be brave) It’s a new organization called The Bridge.
Him: Hmm… That must be a new one. I have a bit of a background in community development, and my last supervisor at uni is like the head of several community development organizations around Auckland.
Me: (Oh crap. Oh crap. He’s going to call me out that The Bridge isn’t a real organization because I have no idea what’s on my job description.) Oh, nice. (Tries to change the subject) So what do you do now?
Him: Well, I used to do community development with a church as well, and somehow I keep finding myself coming back to that. I still do community development, just not with a church anymore. So is The Bridge supported by a church as well?
Me: Well, we get our funding from a few churches, but there is not ONE church that we are attached to.
Him: Oh, so who started The Bridge?
Me: (Oh crap. Oh crap. He’s going to find out this is all kind of a fraud. Well, fake it till you make it then, I guess. At least try to sound confident.) Me.
Him: Oh, nice! So is there expectation that you have to bring people to a church from what you’re doing? Because when I was working with the church, there was always that expectation.
Me: Well, I try not to make that the top of my agenda. To me, the community development part is more important, and if a church is formed out of that, then great. (What I didn’t say was, community development done well WILL eventually lead to a church coming together. What form that church takes on remains to be seen.)
Him: Oh, very nice! That actually sounds brilliant.
Me: Yeah, it is. And it’s actually a lot of fun.

And with that, we very easily transitioned the conversation back to game strategy. No need for awkwardness.

As much as I would like to believe that what I’m doing is cutting-edge ministry and relevant for the context of downtown Auckland that I live in, being raised in traditional evangelical church leaves a deep imprint on the way I still process stuff. And I find myself questioning the orthodoxy of what I’m doing on a regular basis. But I also have to remember I live in a different context from the ones that I grew up in physically, spiritually and theologically.

It is a different day in a different world. It may be a while before I really get comfortable with what this job description looks like. And realistically, what I’m going to turn in with my residency application will not be an accurate of what “work” looks like on a daily basis because that will keep evolving. But for now, this community development/church planter “checks all the boxes in any application form”. More importantly, it sits well with the call God has placed on my life. And that’s good enough for me.

The Reluctant Pastor: On Presence

A few years ago when I was in Berlin, I met a woman who greatly changed my perspective on life.

If you have been following this blog from its very beginning, you would know that Ruth made a regular appearance on my blog through my Berlin chapter. See, Ruth was one of those people who would drop everything she's doing to simply be a friend. We would run into her at Herr Minsch's cake shop across the street and she would hop off her bicycle and visit with us.

While I was there, I had to get some dental work done. When Ruth found out, she made the appointment for me to go see her dentist and went with me to every appointment I had to both be my translator and help me figure out the best decisions to make with what the dentist was recommending.

After my 3-month internship in Berlin, I decided I wanted to be Ruth when if I grew up. Even though she didn't do the church thing and wasn't entirely convinced by the Jesus thing, she had been my "Jesus with skin-on".


I met Moe last Sunday at a young adult event at one of the churches. She said she had a dance recital on Friday. It had sort of become second-nature as part of my presence-based-ministry job to show up at these events simply to be a friendly face in the crowd, so naturally I was there.

Moe did such a lovely job that night, but I had another event to be at, so I left right after the show without congratulating her. Just before my bus arrived, I spotted her with a few of her mates at the bus-stop, so I headed over to say hello. She was almost in tears when she realised I had actually made it to the show.

Quite honestly, I wasn't expecting that dramatic of a reaction from her. In my head, I had simply checked off another box on my list of things to do as a part of my job. I guess in some ways, I had lost sight of the bigger picture of why we chose to take the presence-based approach with The Bridge. After a while of doing the same thing over and over again, it can be easy to forget that even the littlest things we are doing causes a ripple effect in the world. Or that simply showing up to be a friendly face would actually mean that much to someone.

And then I found myself wondering if Ruth knew how much her company at the dentist truly meant to me.


A few weeks ago, some friends and I were joking about how we would never wear a clergy collar, and the other aspects of ministry that we struggle with because of the pompousness associated with them. One of them however, pointed out that one of our friends intentionally chooses to wear the clergy collar because it opens up conversations with people, and because it reminds him of who and what he represents.

Even today, I struggle with the "pastor" title. I don't mind so much that it keeps random gentlemen trying to strike up conversations in cafes at bay. Or that immigration officers (particularly in New Zealand) give me an easier time. There's just so much negative baggage associated with the "pastor" title (I know, this isn't the first time I've written about this). But more recently, like my friend who wears the clergy collar, I've subconsciously become more intentional (I know that sounds like an oxymoron, but it makes sense if you think about it) about telling people I'm a pastor. Because it definitely opens up interesting conversations that this young, Asian female would be a pastor.

But more importantly, through all the ups and downs that this year of ministry-planting has brought, I'm choosing to regularly use "pastor" as my job description now to remind myself that above all the other potential distractions of business plans and ministry strategies, the most important part of my job is that presence-based focus to build people and relationships, not simply programmes and buildings.


So if you need a friendly face to be your biggest cheerleader, I'm there. Because that's what this pastor thing means to me.

Aotearoa Diaries: "Story Time"

Every once in a while, I can't help but wonder if I've completely lost the plot by choosing to ministry plant from scratch.

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely adore the people I get to spend time with. No, really. I'm not just saying that because it's a part of my job. I would still hang out with these people even if I didn't also have the privilege of calling it "my job".

But every once in a while, when I get asked what it is that I'm actually doing, I find myself wondering if all I'm really doing is fluffing around, planning parties and hanging out with awesome people for no greater purpose. Because I'm starting this ministry plant from scratch, I have to find my own "bosses" to report to and create accountability structures that complement the style of ministry without hindering its organic DNA. And so a lot of times, this thing I claim to call "my job" just feels like fluff.

Then last week, I finally sat down and had coffee with Gypsey. We've tried several times to do what I like to call "story time," but for one reason or another, they keep getting interrupted. But in those few brief moments of "story time," I caught a glimpse of why this seemingly fluffy model of "just hanging out" wasn't actually quite so fluffy.

Gypsey reminded me that I had somehow managed to get people to hang out more regularly than she has ever remembered. I daren't claim any credit for that because all I did was tell a few people, (mostly Ben, who's the real connector of these awesome people) "hey, it would be crazy awesome if we did this...." and things just kind of happened. And even if the reasons that these pockets of people gathering semi-regularly seem somewhat "fluffy," they are seeing each other more, eating together more, annoying each other more, laughing together more, and doing dishes together more.

That. That's what makes me giddy excited.

Then tonight I met Gina at Valley Road Church's Mid-Winter Christmas dinner. "Story time" led to the discovery that we had a lot of similarities in our stories. Gina is Korean, but started high-school in Pennsylvania and moved to Texas with her host family and spent a total of ten years in the US. Four years ago, she took a job as a maths teacher and moved to Auckland. As I began explaining what I did, she simply nodded like it totally made sense. "Auckland needs people like you for pastors. People like us who have moved around before understand what it means to not really have a place of belonging in any culture anymore. And there's so many of us here in Auckland."

And then suddenly, it all made sense. Just the other day, I found myself telling David something along the lines of how my entire style of ministry comes out of my belief that my life-story was written in a way that gives me the credibility to do ministry in a certain way. And to not take that approach would be to do injustice to The One who wrote the story that way. Quite frankly, I wasn't quite convinced at the time of our conversation (given that it was early in the morning on a sicky brain didn't help much). But "story time" keeps sneaking up in the interactions with my awesome people that I'm left with no choice but to admit that I'm really not just fluffing around with no greater purpose.

And then I'm reminded that in my initial dreaming about The Bridge, I wrote something about collecting stories. I had assumed then it meant I would be writing a lot more this year, but who wants to write when you have awesome people to hang out with? (Don't freak out, I'm still going to write because it's what keeps me sane.) Yet I do truly believe in the power of stories, and not just for the ones hearing them. To give voice to and to allow stories to be heard is just as powerful and life-giving.

"Story time"

That. That's what makes me giddy excited.

Dear Keren: "Displace Me" Revisited

Series history:  This series unofficially began in 2007 in honour of Keren Berrios. We had started at Anderson University together as international students in 2004. Unbeknownst to me at the time, I had come to rely on her as my sense of "home" while we lived in between cultures. In my hurry to get through life, I graduated a year earlier than most in our class. The summer between my graduation and hers, Keren's life ended unexpectedly less than three weeks after she turned twenty-one. As I grappled with grief, loss and the roller-coaster of post-graduation life, I began writing to her. In the years after, this series has brought comfort as I remember Keren's legacy and imprint on my life. More recently, it has provided a way to take me back to a time before disillusionment caused me to stop dreaming, and to keep pursuing a life well-lived.

Dear Keren,

I recently found out that we get Al Jazeera on free-view. Needless to say, this political junkie has been spending a bit of time on that channel.

Last night, I caught a few documentaries and talk-shows one after another about the situations in Nigeria, Eritrea and Libya. Halfway through about the third documentary about Eritrean refugees, I suddenly realised how emotionally unaffected I was, and it startled me.

Perhaps a part of it is that so much has happened since the days of our idealistic we-can-save-the-world college selves that I'm no longer as vulnerable as I used to be. Perhaps it's those few weeks in the cafe with the women on the streets of Berlin that made me feel like a wimp for being so emotional. Or perhaps it's that everyday on the news, there are more reports of violence and disasters that my helplessness has slowly become callousness.

Keren, I wish you were here to shake me up and remind me of that idealistic self that I used to be. Remember when we used to dream about saving the world? Remember that feeling when you discovered your avenue to use your passion to save the world through Displace Me? I want to remember what that idealistic buzz feels like again. Keren, what happened?

Maybe it's that we were young and naive. Even after I eventually climbed out from under that mountain of grief after you died, I still had that desire to change the world--and to do it twice as well to make up for the good the world was missing because you were no longer around. And now, seven years after graduation and your passing, I sit in this comfortable home, even if not a place to call my own, wondering what our twenty-one-year-old selves would think about where I am today.

On days when depression hits its lowest point, I'm convinced we would be ashamed. I haven't fought or won a worthy cause. I haven't started a revolution. I haven't nurtured change in anyone's lives. I haven't joined the UN, helped a homeless person get off the streets, or even protected a child from the consequences of their parents' choices. I have no material possessions to boast of, and heck, seven years have passed and I still haven't found the guts to go experience homelessness like I wanted to. On those days, I want to hide in bed all day and pretend I live in an alternate universe where the last seven years didn't feel so worthless. On those days, I wish you were here to shake me up and remind me that there still are things worth being passionate about, the same way you had been one of the few who didn't think I was crazy or try to talk me out of wanting to experience homelessness.

But then there are better days when I remember that even if I'm no revolutionary like Katniss Everdeen or Beatrice Prior, I still have a place in this world to do all the good I can and more importantly, to love with all that I can. Buried somewhere under all that disillusionment is that idealistic twenty-one-year-old self that still believes she can change the world even if she cannot physically rescue all the girls in Nigeria, find all the victims of MH370, or spark change overnight in Eritrea, Libya, Berlin or even a neighbourhood in Auckland. On these better days, I cling on to that idealism in the hopes that it will teach me to keep breathing when the difficult days come back.

And then I remember that even when I was most idealistic, it wasn't the desire to revolutionise the world that kept me going. No, it was simply the desire to be where simply being who God created me to be would bring a smile to someone's face. And I realise that our twenty-one-year-old selves would probably still be ok with all that has happened in the last seven years, even if, on this end of the seven years, there aren't significant accolades to boast about.

And suddenly, I regain that excitement again. Suddenly in spite of how beaten down I feel, that buzz returns. Suddenly in spite of how I feel like I'd bitten off more than I can chew with The Bridge, I feel it in my bones again. Suddenly I remember that even if it's not my role to spark a revolution, I have a role to play, to journey with the idealisms of the university students as they discover their buzz and to stand with them when they decide they want to experience homelessness, or move to Christchurch, or help with food distribution and disaster relief in the Philippines.

Because I'm no longer that twenty-one-year-old self. My buzz no longer comes from the idealism of starting a revolution, but from being there when today's twenty-one-year-olds discover their buzz and celebrating with them who God created them to be.

Dear Keren, I still wish you were here to experience all this with me so you can sit me down in a way only you know how and help me process all that has happened. But it's ok now that you're not. I've gotten quite used to it now.

Dear Keren... Hey, I miss you. Someday, when we meet again we can go splash in the puddles and dance in the rain, then pile the pillows on the balcony, sip tea and talk about everything that has happened. But for now, I have things to do.

Until next time.

Arohanui,
Me

Stories From The Bridge Part #1 - Christmas at a Ministry House

I first met Nesta about a week ago when Janice, Kathrin and I went to open a new bank account for the National Ministries of the Church of God.

With his, "cool, cool..." and his "sweet as," he sounded as Kiwi as the next bloke on the street. Then today, I found out he's still pretty nervous about his English, albeit less than he was 5 years ago when he first arrived in New Zealand for university. He credits the vast improvement in his language skills to a woman (who just so happened to also be from Singapore!) who was a part of a ministry house community that offered English Bible studies amongst other avenues where he had the opportunity to practise English.

When I told him that if my visa got approved, I would be running a similar ministry house, he said that was definitely needed. "Most students are here by themselves. Thankfully, my dad travelled with me from China and I had an uncle here to help support me. But it can still be lonely. And the people I stayed with in that house, we became really good friends and could help support each other."

When asked if he had plans for Christmas, he said he would have wanted to travel back to China. During his last trip home, he began to realise he needed to be able to make more trips home as he was the only child (thanks to China's one-child policy). But since he only had 2 days off from work, it has become tradition to return to the house he lived in for the last 5 years for their Christmas "family" celebration.


Nesta is only one of many international students in Auckland who was significantly supported by a ministry house. Through the ministry of The Bridge, we hope that we will be able to reach more students. Will you consider supporting our ministry?

Within the US, funds can be sent to:
Global Missions
PO Box 2420
Anderson, IN 46018
(Project number: 42.40411)

In Singapore, contact me or my mum for the account number to transfer funds.

Anywhere else, send us an e-mail at thebridge.akl@gmail.com for bank account information.

Ta muchly. We appreciate you.

The Bridge: The Love's Hangover Connection

I first met Emily my freshman year at Anderson University. She was in high school at the time, but her sister, Irene, was starting college the same year as me. We had gotten connected because her mum was also the office assistant for the international students association, and Emily often spent the time when she wasn’t at school hanging out in the office.

Somewhere between her freshman year at AU (my sophomore year) and my stint in Berlin, we stopped talking. I honestly didn’t even realize it had happened since I had been too self-absorbed in trying to finish college in 3 years to pay attention to the people around me.

Anyhow, the years passed and around the time I was preparing for Berlin, she got in touch and wanted to know if there was anything she and Irene could do to help get me there. One of the first things she said was, “You need to explain this Germany thing to me because you’re not the shove-Bible-down-people’s-throats missionary type, so why are you going, and what will you be doing?”

As I began to explain the ministry of XZBerlin, she said without hesitation that she and Irene were on-board to help fundraise. They had been running a handmade jewelry business for a while by then. As Emily would explain, Love’s Hangover had started as a hobby, but before long there were beads exploding all over their home. Since the beads got kicked out of their family home, they enlisted the help of their brother, Dennis, as their financial advisor, and rented a shop space in Noblesville, Indiana.

As their hobby expanded into a full-time business, Emily began to realize there was potential for Love’s Hangover to help sponsor other charitable organisations and ministry opportunities around the world—which was why she got in touch when she found out I was headed for Berlin. That was the real beginning of our friendship. “Business” conversations aside, she also asked questions about Keren’s death from a spiritual perspective that few others understood. She had also started working closely with one of my former roommates, Daria to start up other projects around the world. As we spent more time together, we often reminisced about our days as international students (Daria is from Poland; Emily and Irene’s family had emigrated from Kenya), and all the times spent with Scott and Anjie Martin who had become like our international mum and dad.

In the time that passed since Berlin, Emily and Love’s Hangover have been an incredible support for all the crazy stuff I’ve taken on around the world. Their business has exploded and taken them all over the US where they have even dressed Hollywood celebrities. Yet Emily still takes the time for small gigs like hosting tea and jewelry parties to help fundraise for The Bridge, for which I’m eternally grateful. I get to give back a little bit once in a while by sending over NZ-style beads and accessories, and generating publicity for them through fundraising projects and other ministry contacts like church craft fairs.

The friendship with Emily and Love’s Hangover has been a big inspiration for the ministry of The Bridge. If not for Scott and Anjie opening their home as a hang-out spot for us as international students, I don’t know that Emily and I would have much to talk about today or still be in contact, much less working together to impact the Kingdom around the world.

Part of what we hope to achieve through The Bridge is that students will be able to develop relationships that they can take with them past graduation, the same way that Emily and Love’s Hangover has been for me. Will you, your church or missions committee consider partnering with us? In time to come, we will be rolling out additional avenues for partnership, but our top priority at this point is fundraising. While we hope to eventually reach a point of self-sustainability, we are needing a start-up fund that will help get the word out about The Bridge and also sponsor my visa application. We are still working through the process through which funds can be received for The Bridge, but we would love to hear from you if you are able to help make this happen, whether through a one-time gift, a pledged donation, or hosting a jewelry and tea party through Love’s Hangover.**

Asante sana
Arohanui

** Limited to areas within reasonable driving distance from Noblesville, Indiana unless you're able to help cover transport costs.

Ministry Update: An Introduction to "The Bridge"

Dear friends,

Two years ago, you journeyed with me to Auckland, New Zealand where I had the opportunity to serve alongside Westside Christian Fellowship (WCF), the Church of God congregation here. It has been two great years of celebrations and struggles; in all, an incredible learning experience I would not have traded for the world. I am thankful for God’s faithfulness and your friendship that has sustained me. As the year draws to a close, my term with WCF will also be concluding. I am excited to share with you about a new ministry that will be starting next year.

The Bridge, Auckland
The Bridge is a collaborative project between the National Ministries of the Church of God, New Zealand and other local organizations in the heart of downtown Auckland. The ministry focuses on developing relationships with international students at Auckland University of Technology (AUT) that will provide foundation for spiritual growth that can be sustained after graduation.

While this ministry has come together in a form and timing I had least expected, that the pieces have fallen into place has only confirmed that God’s hand has been at work weaving it all together. My personal experience as an international student at Anderson University (AU) makes the ministry of The Bridge close to home for me. What helped me flourish as an undergraduate at AU was the presence of the International Students Association, directed by Scott Martin. Scott and Anjie’s home was always open to us as a hang-out spot for game nights, (soccer) World Cups and Superbowls. It was a safe space to be homesick, and to tell stories and make food from our home cultures. Our desire is for The Bridge to provide a similar space for students at AUT.

Partners
Currently, there are on-going conversations with other local organizations to create partnerships that will support each other as we recognize that this ministry cannot exist by itself. International Students Ministries of New Zealand (ISMNZ) is a chaplaincy programme that serves international university students in New Zealand. They offer English as a Second Language (ESL) activities for students who want to brush up on language skills, as well as Bible Study groups that focus on discipleship and evangelism. We are exploring ways to work together to offer a greater variety of resources for students.

Through my current role at WCF, I also have had the opportunity to develop relationships with the Wesleyan Methodist Church of New Zealand (WMCNZ). Rev. Dr. Richard Waugh (national superintendent) and Rev. Amber Livermore (national youth consultant) have played key roles in the brainstorming process for The Bridge. While they have a vibrant national youth ministry at the moment, there is concern that we will lose the youth as they graduate from high school and enter university. We are hopeful that The Bridge can become a safe space for them to explore questions of faith and spirituality.

We are also hoping to partner with local churches to provide “adopt-a-student” schemes and other similar programmes. We currently have the support of WCF and The NZ Journey Community, a ministry led by Rev. Janice Spearritt (ordained minister of the Church of God), and will continue conversations with other congregations in the area to create a network of churches that we can point students to.

And we want you on board as well. Here are some ways you can partner with us:
Begin praying

• Pray for the students that we will be interacting with. Even if they are still in high school at the moment, begin praying that our interactions with them will bring spiritual fruit.
• Pray that we will find an affordable space that can serve both as a ministry house and housing for me.
• Pray for the ministry partners who will come on board, that we may all be able to build relationships with students that will support them along their journey.
• Pray that we will be able to jump through all the hoops to get The Bridge officially recognized as a religious charity organization locally.

Financial gifts
New Zealand immigration and charities commission require that we have evidence of USD$30,000 per year for The Bridge to be registered as an organisation that can sponsor my visa. This amount will cover my living expenses as well as underwrite ministry costs. Will you, your church and/or missions committee consider partnering with The Bridge in this way? Information on where you can send funds will be available soon. · 

The less-conventional ways
Part of the vision of The Bridge is to become a network of resources. In the coming weeks, we will be creating a web presence on Facebook, Twitter (follow @BridgeAKL) and the official The Bridge website. Consider partnering with us through offering resources such as sharing devotional thoughts, event/party ideas, recipes or anything you think a university student might need.

And we hope you will stay in touch. We would love to share stories of what is happening here, and be kept informed of how we might be able to support you as well.

Thank you once again for your friendship and all the different ways you have partnered with the Church of God in New Zealand. We are better when we are together.

Arohanui

The Bridge: Why Me??

Towards the end of my senior year at Anderson University, Ann Smith invited me over for tea one afternoon. If you've not met Ann Smith, she's like the female mix of Gandalf, Dumbledore and Obi-Wan Kenobi, except at least twice as personable, and even more awesome. To say I was awestruck to have tea with her would be an understatement.

But Ann simply wanted to hear my heart. She wanted to know what I would be doing after graduation and how she could pray. At the time, I was concluding a ministry internship where church politics had worn me out, and all I wanted to do was to find a 1-2 year assignment working cross-culturally somewhere before returning to Anderson for seminary. I don't remember how the conversation started, but I found myself telling her about a frustrating conversation I had with God my freshman year.

It was a few weeks into our first semester. Even though the only common language between the three of us were English, I found myself acting as a translator of sorts between a friend from Hong Kong and another from South Korea. It was a classic case of translating bad English to bad English--something I must have mastered growing up in the land of Singlish (another form of bad English mixed with at least two Chinese dialects, Malay and some bits of Tamil). One night, as I was laughing at the ridiculousness of my translator role, I felt this prompting to consider living in China as a missionary after graduation. I remembered thinking God must be crazy. Why would I have had to move halfway across the world only to move back the other way? Wouldn't it have been much shorter if I had simply gone from Singapore to China?

Nothing made sense at the time, but as the years passed, I began to realise if I wouldn't even consider saying yes to moving to China, I wouldn't have been willing to consider moving anywhere. China was slightly more familiar than any other part of the world would have been. It was also the stepping stone for my parents to consider the possibility that I wasn't going to move back to Singapore for a while. It was a lot easier for my dad, a traditional Chinaman, to give his daughter his blessings if she were to move to the "motherland" where our ancestors came from, than to some potato-eating (as opposed to rice-eating) part of the world.

As I shared this part of my story to Ann, she simply smiled and said, "You know, my first call to missions was also to China. To this day, I have lived in Japan and South Korea, but still have not made it to mainland China. I don't know what God is doing with that, but I know there is a reason I'm still passionate about China."

Six years have passed since I graduated from AU. Save from a trip to Canton Province (廣東 or Guang Dong province) in 2009 where our family went to trace our ancestral roots on my dad's side, there still are no signs of me ever moving to China. Instead, I find myself at a cafe in New Zealand, writing this post about why I'm going to help start a ministry to international students in Auckland--most of whom are students who have recently moved here from China for university.

I guess God has a really warped sense of humour.

The Bridge: Foundations

About a year ago, I was asked to help out at a kids' camp. It was a busy time of year at WCF, but because I knew I still had a lot to learn about children's ministry and this would be a good learning opportunity, I decided I would go.

During the camp, Paul, who was one of the directors of the camp, asked if I would share my testimony one night. And so I did. I wrote about it after coming back from camp because it gave me a lot to think about.

On the final day of camp, Paul asked if I could give a ride home to one of the camp leaders and the other camp director, Gwen. As it turned out Gwen's flatmate at the time was an American lady who served as a chaplain at a university here. That she was from Portland, Oregon and was a chaplain to international students (both of which I was really passionate about), gave us a lot in common. If I hadn't been that worn out from camp, I would have stayed for dinner with them. I didn't realise at the time was that that wasn't going to be my last interaction with Carrie.

A few weeks later, I was out running errands with Marilyn and had shared with her about my interest in working with migrants, refugees and international communities--which was why New Zealand even interested me in the very first place. She excitedly told me that her mum had been volunteering with an organisation that helped migrants with their transitions, and that I should have coffee with her. As much as I wanted to, life got busy and that got put on hold.

A few months later, we had a guest speaker one Sunday who worked with migrant and international communities. Merv Coates had also been the professor for pastoral care at Laidlaw Bible College. He and I had several conversations about his work, and he invited me and members from our church to come along to one of the events their ministry was sponsoring. It was at that event that I ran into Carrie again. Because there was so much going on at the time, we never got to talk much.

This was the third time that this idea about working with migrants and international communities had come up, and I was beginning to wonder if God was up to something with these "accidental" run-ins. But again, life happened, and I never got around to following up on any of those conversations.

Then one random day, Carrie posted on Facebook about an event called Newswatch. It was one of the programmes sponsored by the chaplains at the university where students would watch news clips from the week to help keep them connected with news both locally and around the world, and especially in their home countries. Because the news clips were in English, it was also an opportunity for them, many of whom English was a second language, to brush up on their language skills. I hopped on and asked Carried if it would be ok for me to come along to just hang out. Before I knew it, Newswatch and student group Fridays had become a regular on my calendar, and the students began to count on the desserts that would show up with me.

While all this was happening, Carrie and I still hardly knew anything about each other because we both understood our priorities on Fridays were to hang out with the students. One day in the middle of nowhere just before my trip back to the States, she asked where my funds were coming from. Because Carrie herself has to raise support, she understood some of the hoops to jump through with fundraising. But as I began to explain the complexities of my situation and all the ways we've tried to work with the system, she was appalled that it had become such hard work. She then asked if I would consider having my funds come through the organisation she was working with. And then she said, "I don't know what your contract is like with your church, but if you would like to come work with us, we would love to have you."

At that time, I had already known I wasn't going to serve another term with WCF. As much as I loved my experience and had learnt a lot from my time here, I had also learnt that just because I was able to do something or learn how to do something (like run the children's ministry), it didn't always mean that I was the right person for the job. And I began to recall all the conversations I had prior to arriving in New Zealand about all the other things I was passionate about--working with migrant and international communities, and working outside the church structures to bring people into meaningful relationships with those within the church structures. And I began to trust the prompting that it was time to pursue that. All of these conversations with Carrie, Marilyn and Merv could not have been coincidental. (The Bible does say something about, "three times..." eh?)

And so Carrie and I began to talk a little bit more. All of this time, it bothered me that I didn't know how it would all fit with my (somewhat foolish) loyalty to the Church of God Reformation Movement, or how this new ministry would fit into its structures, or what I would do if it didn't. Several other things got thrown onto the scene that halted my conversations with Carrie for a while. But as things began to fall into place, as they always do, I began to realise that whether it fit into a denominational structure or not, I could no longer run away from pursuing this new ministry.

Shortly after my return from the States, several things happened that led to some significant conversations with the Wesleyan Methodist Church of New Zealand. Even though most ministries in New Zealand tend to run ecumenically, I was "raised" to respect denominational traditions, and WMCNZ would have been theologically closest to the Church of God. And it was encouraging to know that there were WMCNZ folks who, upon hearing about my ideas for a new ministry next year, got really excited and wanted to jump in to support however they can. They themselves had relationships and connections that made it easy for them to understand why this new ministry would be significant, which gave me hope to realise that I wasn't crazy for wanting to do this. As good students of missiology will tell you, outsiders may see a perceived need, but until the insiders want to address those needs themselves, they will not buy into any programme that outsiders are pitching.

So where does this lead, and what's next?

Well, I'm not exactly sure yet either. As conversations continued with Richard, superintendent of WMCNZ, I begin to realise there is potential for this to have a much bigger scope and influence than I can even foresee at this point. I would love to see this eventually develop into a community space (not necessarily physically) where students can connect with both local communities and churches, and it becoming an intergenerational relationship-building venue.

But for now, there is work to be done to get the first steps in place. Here's how you can pray with us:

• Pray for the churches that have an interest in being involved with this ministry. Pray that the existing relationships with the students will continue to be strengthened and the desire to pour into their lives will grow.
• Pray for the students that will be reached through these relationships, that they would encounter life-change in their few years in New Zealand. And pray that the relationships built here will continue to support and provide accountability for them as they return to their home-countries. 
• Because of all the complexities surrounding my support raising with several organisations in different parts of the world supporting me, it makes sorting out a visa complicated. Please pray that things will begin to fall into place for the process.
• I will also need to move out of my current living arrangements to make room for a ministry of this nature. Pray for a new living arrangement to open up that will be affordable.

And I hope you stay on board with all that is happening in New Zealand as you have all this while. Check back in, and see how the story is developing. Write, and let me know what you think. And if you're the praying type, pray.

As always,
i carry your heart
(i carry it in my heart)

Arohanui,
me

Coming up: "Why me??"

The Bridge: Making Sense Part #1

If you have been following this blog for a while, you know there have been a variety of topics that have been written about. Some of it seemed irrelevant or disconnected at the time. Welcome to my brain.

However, I'm going to begin making some connections between those posts over the next few months to help make sense of this new thing that I keep talking about starting next year. So bear with me.

In the recent post about my second Kiwi birthday, I talked about a ten-year-old dream. There was a bridge in this dream that I've been trying to make sense of for the last ten years. But none of the explanations I've managed to come up with seemed to provide resolution like what happened with the other parts of the dream. Until recently. It began making sense.

Bridges are structures that people use to get from one place to another. Some of us stay on those bridges longer than others; some of us move on quickly. In a culture as diverse and transitionary as Auckland, folks are used to people coming and going. A few days ago, Nina and I caught up with Paul, who oversees the SUPAkidz clubs we run. I had sent an e-mail to Paul explaining that my time with the children's ministry at WCF was nearly up. As we caught up over a cup of tea, Paul began asking what my plans were for the future. As I began explaining the vague ideas I had, he nodded and began getting excited on my behalf. And then he said this:

"So we're not losing you completely, right?"

The words were few, but it reinforced what I had long assumed to be true about Auckland. People come and go, and those who have stayed on are used to those transitionary folks. It affects the way people live life and the way relationships are viewed. Who amongst us are staying, and for how long? Do I let them into my life if they're going to leave after a short time?

And even more so, it affects the way we do church. How do we build a "life together" church if people are coming and going? How do we walk with each other, even if only for the short time that we're sojourning together?

As I've been thinking about how these all tie in together, the bridge imagery keeps coming back. The transitionary place. How do we make the most of our time together?

In my next few posts, I'll begin to explain more of what this bridge is going to look like. Again, I hope you stay on board with me as you have all this while. Check back in, and see how the story is developing. Write, and let me know what you think. And if you're the praying type, pray.

As always,
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Arohanui,
me

Dear Keren: Piece of Home

Dear Keren,

At student group yesterday, Amy came up to me and asked for ideas of what she could get for a Chinese friend who was turning 18. She went on to explain that this friend had arrived in New Zealand two days after she did, and so she was her first friend, which made the friendship special.

It made me think of our first days at AU. You were my first friend too, but it wasn't until years later after you died when I was processing with Jenny what "home" means to me, that I realised you were also my piece of home away from home. Sure, there were lots of great memories made especially in the summer months when the campus was quieter, but I think what made our friendship special was that you made it ok for me to feel displaced. You were my home in that displacement, and you helped me made sense of so much of what eventually became a part of my identity as a Third Culture Kid.

Dear Keren, today I thank you for being that friend, and for helping me find a piece of home. If you were still around, I'd want you to be a part of this new thing I'm starting next year because you helped me become good at navigating these transitional waters. Nonetheless, I carry our friendship with me as I begin helping these international students find their place of home as they arrive in New Zealand and begin a new chapter here.

Dear Keren, thank you.

Arohanui,
me