Pondering the End

In the fifteen years I’ve been a Christian, I’ve spent at least ten of them struggling with my place in the church as a black man. In the decade of my racial awakening, I have struggled to believe that the black Christian has any share in the American church. The most prominent leaders are white men. The loudest voices are white men. The church accrues and expends political capital for the benefit of white men. My feelings on the place of the black Christian in the American church isn’t what I intend to write about in this piece. But I think it’s important for anyone who reads to understand how I view the current state of the American church before I delve into the main subject.

Racial prejudice is a perpetually reopening wound on the body that is my faith. That it reopens is no more a surprise than the pain that comes with it. Whether it’s being barred from taking prom pictures at someone’s house or watching Christians derisively speak about Black Lives Matter protesters, some of my most painful experiences have come from Christians. It’s not fun and I deeply believe that prejudice significantly hinders the witness and reputation of the Church. It may be that I am more acutely impacted by acts of racial prejudice perpetrated by Christians than by others because I am a Christian. Within that realm of pain, maybe nothing has hurt me more persistently than the love story I am going to share with you right now. A romance that may be near its end.

The first thing I wanted to do when I arrived at MIT was find a church home. It was suggested by my high school teacher Mr. Ward that I look into organizations like Campus Crusade for Christ as a launching point to get started. That appeared to be a reasonable suggestion so I joined the organization and I started church hopping. Nothing clicked. The churches we attended reminded me too much of the church affiliated with my high school. As a result, I spent a whole semester irregularly attending church.

In the month of January, MIT has a session called the Independent Activities Period in which you could do anything you want. I most certainly did not get that option as I had an accelerated calculus course to complete and remedial physics class to take as I had gotten a D. However, I still had plenty of time to hang out and that’s how I met my friend David. Over the course of one night, we bonded, and he told me about this church called Cornerstone. He suggested I come check it out but “be warned it’s ninety-five percent Korean.” I was out of options and — as I would later discover once second semester started — out of time. So I took David up on his offer and I visited the church. It turned out many of the MIT congregants were from my first semester classes and I hit it off with them pretty quickly. Pastor Eugene gave an amazing sermon and David (a different one) and Arthur, two guys with whom I’m friends with to this day, welcomed me after service. This all probably sounds like the bare minimum. However, coming from a church in high school where you could make the argument I was bullied, it was a breath of fresh air. I resolved to go back again throughout the semester. Unfortunately, second semester was absolutely brutal for me and I spent my weekends catching up on sleep I missed in a semester-long vicious cycle.

From sophomore year through graduation, Cornerstone was my church. It was the first time I had ever felt that way. Even when I graduated and went back to Detroit for two years, I still felt my home church was Cornerstone. I even fled to Boston one Easter weekend after a nightmarish month at work so that I could go to Cornerstone and be with my people. Through that trip, I knew that when I left my job at General Motors I wanted to head back to Boston so that I could be at the church that I loved. So that’s what I did. But life moves on and while Cornerstone definitely changed, I was unaware how much I had as well.

The Black Lives Matter movement broke me. It served as a rude awakening to me and other black people around the country that Americans do not value our lives. Many of these Americans that hold us in low regard are Christians, including notable ones such as Franklin Graham. What I didn’t fully comprehend then was how completely that movement — that moment — was going to change me.

Two months back at Cornerstone and I was seriously considering leaving because I felt a black man had no share at the church. However, I hate quitting and I know I’m inherently impatient. I was encouraged by the pastors to keep trying and to see if things improve once Community Group starts. It did. But for the first time since I started attending Cornerstone, I experienced the same loneliness that accompanied many of my other church experiences: the experience of being the other. When the loneliness was really bad, everything felt racially tinged. Every non-invite to come hangout felt like a wall to be overcome. Every “how did you find out about Cornerstone” became “how is the black man allowed to be here.” For three consecutive holiday seasons, I would fall into depression upon returning to Boston from Detroit due to extreme loneliness. Multiple times over the course of the past three years I’ve wondered if I belong here anymore. But I kept fighting because I loved Cornerstone and Cornerstone was there to show me in college what a church could be. I knew it wasn’t perfect but I also knew I had changes to make in my life. I just didn’t know what they were.

This is not to say that the situation never improved. It absolutely did. I started to find the place where I felt I could be myself. I recreated connections and formed new ones. I went to a lot of cool events and weddings. My situation improved slowly because for once in my life I was patient and I improved on being authentic and vulnerable. None of this would have been possible if I quit on the church I claimed to love. However, last year was different. It was one of the roughest emotional and mental years in my relatively young life and I made some embarrassing decisions as a result of the pain I was feeling. Through my reflection on all that was happening, I was confronted about a significant problem I had in my attitude and approach to friendships. I imagine it was difficult for Naomi to come to me and do this and I’m forever grateful that she did. It changed the nature of my friendships for me in ways that I couldn’t imagine. I even returned to Boston after Christmas vacation with no sense of loneliness because for the first time I was optimistic about my ability to reconnect with my brothers after a long break. God was able to bless me through Nay’s courage. It makes the next sentence that much more difficult for me to write: it may be time for me to leave Cornerstone.

There exists a third rail subject for me in Cornerstone. I’ve only mentioned it in detail with a few friends at the church but more extensively outside of the church. Every February, Cornerstone holds a sermon on romantic relationships because Valentine’s Day exerts its gravity from the center of the month like a black hole (that’s probably not an accurate scientific metaphor). Well, with each passing February, my cynicism towards the sermon series has escalated to a point where I loathe its arrival. This is because my cynicism has evolved from “well, probably not going to need that for a while” to “ain’t no way a Christian Asian woman is dating a nigger.” It’s not the first time I’ve expressed that sentiment; it is just an extreme version of what I’ve told the lead pastor, Pastor Bill, in our previous meetings: By staying at Cornerstone, I’ve made a conscious commitment to singlehood because of anti-black attitudes in the Asian diaspora.

To be perfectly blunt, I am a thirsty dude. It’s been an active crusade of mine to be less thirsty. I don’t win very often. I have typically refrained from addressing this issue because I was always afraid that it would come off as extremely self-interested. What changed? Outside of Cornerstone, some of my closest Christian and non-Christian friends believe I should find a new church for this reason. I was never convinced it was the right decision. Leaving a church to find a romantic relationship? Isn’t that simply an abdication of the work I’ve done to better appreciate the blessings God has given me as a single man?

Before answering those questions, it is important to establish one fact: sin does not stay stagnant. When David did not address his son raping his half-sister, his tolerance of that sin led to the death of two sons: once, when Absalom sought revenge for his sister, and again when Joab killed Absalom despite David’s orders. Sin does not stay stagnant. When Joshua and the Israelites failed to execute God’s orders and completely wipe out the Canaanites, that disobedience led to Israel’s persistent struggles with idolatry as a result of the people left in the land. Sin does not stay stagnant. When the early church tolerated Peter’s anti-Gentile attitudes, the sin of that tolerance led to the church for a time tolerating the discrimination of widows who were to receive food. Sin does not stay stagnant. To believe that the anti-black attitudes in the Asian community will only affect the realm of romance for Cornerstone is the epitome of foolishness. In fact, I would argue these attitudes have already spread to other aspects of church life. From time to time, a potential black congregant visits Cornerstone. They never stay long term. I’ve never asked why. I don’t always get to the opportunity to meet all of them. Whatever the circumstances, I know I will once again be the singular black congregant at Cornerstone. I’ve even seen that some of the kids are already afraid of me because I don’t look like them.

For a long time, I believed that leaving a church where I was continuing to grow because I couldn’t find a relationship there was wrong. I believed that it was the height of foolishness. Thus, every time I heard from my friends that I need to leave, that’s what I would argue. I’d say it defiantly. I’d say it stubbornly. I’d say it with conviction. But my argument is fallacious; it is a false dilemma. I shouldn’t have to choose between going to a church where I can grow and a church where I’d actually have the opportunity to date. There is a fundamental difference between God telling you to wait and a church tolerating the implication that everyone except you can because of what you look like. Cornerstone claims to have a vision of being a church without walls, yet a clear barrier is erected for black congregants telling them at a minimum, a romantic relationship is something you will not have here.

So am I leaving? That’s what you want to know, right? I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. For the first time, I know that I would be justified in leaving Cornerstone. But for the first time, I have genuine friendships that are only possible because of a church. I’m still learning so much. I’m angry with Cornerstone but I love it deeply. However, more than anything else, my uncertainty stems from past scars that have made me afraid of the Christian unknown.