COMING HOME | LEAVING HOME

As a hyphenated being (Korean-American), confusion about identity is something I have lived with all my life—some years more pronounced and some years dormant. I left my home country when I was 14 years old, and it took roughly about two years before I was able to call Los Angeles my home. Ever since, rather than being settled in terms of my identity, that was only the beginning of the unfolding of nuisances, surprises, and more layers of confusion. Most of my friends were Korean Americans during high school and the church I was part of since the beginning of college was a Korean American immigrant church. Even when I joined the U.S. Center for World Mission (as a minority in a predominantly white organization), being true to my color, the first organization I founded was a hyphenated organization (Korean American Center for World Mission) as my main ministry for the following 15 years. Leading up to the last 10 years of my ministry before our sabbatical in 2020, I was immersed deeply in an organization that was predominantly white. Looking back, God was unmistakably in every significant transition. Some years, I prided myself as a good cultural chameleon adapting at will, and other years, I questioned who I was without strong satisfaction.

During my almost 35 years of ministry, as a modest traveler, I have circled the world some 60 times (about 25,000 miles for the Earth’s circumference) on the United alone. Every single time, I come home to Pasadena, I knew I was coming home not only because my family was back in Pasadena, but my heart knew where I belonged. My identity and calling were not colliding with each other. I knew I belonged in Southern California, and I felt right at home.

This morning’s familiar 3.5-mile walk around my neighborhood back in Pasadena felt unfamiliar and even confusing. It has been the walk of pleasure and fitness I counted on countless times before with our daughter’s Husky, Luna. The walk consists of walking on the main road, Washington Blvd, going east and facing the sun rising, uphill incline toward the San Gabriel mountains which curves around the historic neighborhood 9-hole golf course, and back down on a narrow street called Holliston Road. As there aren’t many cars on Holliston Road, I walk in the middle of the street as if I own the street, listening to the birds, our footsteps, and our breath. I noted that what should have been very familiar produced, in fact, a tint of ungroundedness.

We landed a couple of days ago in Pasadena after an unprecedented 6 months in Asia. In previous times of travel, coming back home to the US would have been “homecoming.” This time, we felt like we were visiting for a short while. The notion of coming home not feeling like a homecoming succinctly captures the state of my confusion. This is the first since 1977, the year I immigrated to the US. When we left Korea (and Asia) this time, we felt we were leaving home as opposed to coming home. My words fall short of how this happened, but we know viscerally that God is in it.

Our bedroom has been moved and most of the furniture we have accumulated is gone (not that we feel attached to the furniture and/or household items). One of the tangible benefits of living out of suitcases is that you acutely realize that you really don’t need much to live life—it is really freeing and exhilarating. After we purchased our Pasadena home last year with our daughter, Hannah, and her husband, Jeremiah, we told them that this would be their home as we envisioned spending more time in Asia. However, we were not prepared for the speed at which things have been progressing. Our time in Asia had God’s sovereign imprints all over the place from the beginning of our trip till the day, literally, we left for the US. Things are moving at warp speed. God is unmistakably calling us to Asia. Everything that happened in Asia was real and God’s orchestration of our time in Asia was impeccable. We received numerous and timely favors that can only come from God and there is a wide-open door for us in Asia. We discern that our sense of duty (what we must do), desire (what we want to do), and destination (where we want to do) in this next season of life is crystal clear and converging at the right time.

To make things even more confusing is the fact that we are so happy to see our adult children in various stages of their lives. There is a huge family event that our son, Michael, is about to get married in a few days (July 8). He and his wife-to-be, Gloria, have found a place near our place in Pasadena. Our oldest daughter, Elizabeth, just moved back from Minnesota after being there for more than three years and decided to settle down just two blocks away from our place. They could have settled down in other places in Southern California, but they all chose to be close to each other. It particularly warms our hearts as we are not the center of gravity anymore as we have shared with them about our plan to be in Asia. They have been the greatest cheerleaders of our life in transition which we know we cannot take for granted.

For now, I am not trying to solve my confusion. I know I do not need to. To tell me that I am confused is good enough. What rings true is that we belong in Asia (particularly Korea) and we are right in the middle of a critical transition of facing liminality and tension I have not experienced since 1977. The excitement of the unknown and continued experiences of the miraculous hands of God far exceeds sadness, grief, fear, and a hint of regret about moving home.