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Associated Press

Winter 2001

Title: For Asian-American Churches, Integration Proves Complicated
By Michael Luo, AP National Writer

NEW YORK (AP) _ Pastor Victor Kim wanted to make sure his congregation understood. This was not a Korean church, nor was it an Asian church. Remnant Presbyterian was for everybody _ black, white,
yellow, brown. So he laid down some rules for his Korean-American members. He barred them from bringing kimchi, or other Korean food, to church. He refused to make any announcements for Asian events. He even discouraged them from going to nearby Koreatown for lunch.

"We need a paradigm shift," he said.

Today, despite Kim's efforts over six years to make people of all races feel welcome, the 250 to 300 worshippers who attend the church's three English services every week are almost all Koreans, with a
scattering of other Asians. He has attracted only a handful of whites and blacks. One of the whites, Kyle Allen, 24, stopped coming recently.

"I just never really fit in," he said.

Nearly five decades after Martin Luther King Jr. scolded churchgoers for making Sunday mornings "the most segregated hour in America," the racially integrated congregation remains the rarest of institutions.
Only 3.5 percent of all churches in the country have a second racial group that makes up more than 20 percent of the congregation, said Rice University sociologist Michael Emerson, who is directing a national
study on multi-racial congregations.

The reasons are complex. Prejudice is part of it. But there is also a strong desire among many churches to protect their racial or ethnic identity. The churches that have tried to break out have found that, in the end, people simply gravitate toward others like them.

Still, in a small but growing number of Asian-American Protestant churches, a new experiment in integration is unfolding. Asian-American pastors are pushing to succeed where their black and white brethren failed. Among Asian-American pastors, "there's a deep goal, almost a yearning to do this," said writer Tony Carnes, who is working on a book on Asian-American religion. For some, the yearning stems from their evangelical beliefs, which call them to bring the gospel to everyone. For others, it is about making their churches a truer reflection of heaven, where people of all races are welcome. Still others are motivated to reach the growing number of multi-racial families. But they are finding that integration is a complicated ideal.

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In recent years, some Asian-American churches that began as exclusively Korean or Chinese have become pan-Asian, drawing Chinese, Korean, Japanese and others together.

This mirrors the religious journey of earlier, European immigrants. Churches that began as Swedish, Russian or German, evolved into multi-ethnic white churches as their members intermarried and
assimilated. Few, however, became multi-racial. And, so far, the Asian churches haven't either.

"That's the question," said Emerson. "Will Asians be able to move past race?"

Asian-Americans are the fastest growing minority group in the nation. Slightly more than a quarter of 11 million Asian-Americans consider themselves evangelical Christian, one recent survey found. The rest are largely Roman Catholic, Buddhist and atheist.

There are some 3,000 Korean, 700 Chinese and 200 Japanese Christian congregations across the country. Most emerged after 1965, when immigration restrictions were eased and Asians came in waves to this
country. Most are evangelical, making Asian-Americans an increasingly important force in evangelical Christianity in America.

The majority of Asian-American churches remain closed to outsiders, simply because they hold services in the congregants' native tongues. Sometimes they offer a small English-speaking service for members of the
second generation. But a crop of second-generation Asian churches has emerged, composed mostly of American-born, young professionals who have become accustomed to diversity and expect it in their churches.

The churches followed a familiar path, tracing their origins to the introduction of English during children's Sunday school in the immigrant church. Eventually, an English congregation emerged, co-existing with
the immigrant service. Recently, as immigration has slowed, the English speakers have begun to outnumber the first generation. Across the country, painful church splits have resulted. Many young Asian-American pastors have also struck out on their own.

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In Boston three years ago, leaders of the English service at St. John's Korean United Methodist Church chose to leave, taking about 50 people with them. They wanted to feel comfortable bringing their
non-Asian co-workers and friends, members of their "heart communities," to church, said Peter Sung, a second-generation Korean-American who became a pastor at the new church, Highrock. A year later, Highrock hired Dave Swaim, an energetic young white graduate of Harvard Divinity School, to be senior pastor, giving the church the non-Asian face that founders wanted to lead them.
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Five years ago, in suburban Washington, D.C., Ray Chang founded Ambassador Bible Church. He had resigned as pastor of the English-speaking congregation at Korean Central Presbyterian Church, the
largest Korean church in the D.C. area. Chang, who came to the United States from Korea at age 6, dreamed of forming a church for people from all races and nations. "A slice of heaven," he said.
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For Ken Fong, a third-generation Chinese-American and senior pastor at 70-year-old Evergreen Baptist Church in Rosemead, Calif., it was his own family's changing racial dynamics that pushed him to
consider integration as a mandate. His brother's family adopted a black child 2 1/2 years ago. Most Asian churches like his _ a historically Japanese and Chinese institution _ would make his nephew feel like an outsider, he said. "They wouldn't accept him."
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Newsong Community Church in Irvine, Calif., has arguably come the farthest among Asian-American churches in its quest for diversity. The 7-year-old church caters to a Gen-X flock, featuring ministries like
hip-hop dance, and draws 1,500 every weekend to its three services. Senior Pastor David Gibbons, who is half-Korean, half-white, said 15 ethnic groups are represented in his congregation.

During one service, Gibbons shared the pulpit with Darryl Brumfield, a black member who used to pastor a Compton church. Before they took the stage, congregants watched an MTV-style video, showing young people from the church _ black, white, Latino and Asian.

Although its 14-member pastoral staff is almost completely Asian, Newsong features Brumfield as one of its primary preachers. Newsong has also hired a Latino pastor.

Gibbons energetically urges his congregants to embrace a "theology of discomfort."

"If you come to this church, you're going to be uncomfortable because you're going to meet people not like you," he said.

Churchgoers said they see a difference in their friendships. Newsong member Susie H. Lee, 29, said her once all-Korean circle is now very mixed. Once fluent in Korean, she now finds herself stuttering when
speaking to her mother.

"Sometimes I feel sad," she said. "I don't feel a huge loss though... You have to bring it back to what God wants."

Yet, for all of its talk of diversity, Newsong remains at least 80 percent Asian, according to official statistics. Other churches, including Ambassador and Highrock, have experienced similar frustrations.

"There's definitely a race thing going on," said Sun Hi Shen, a longtime Newsong member.
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Realizing the pastor's ideal of diversity can be hard, even for the most willing congregants.

Stacy Heisey-Terrell, 27, and her husband, Christopher, 26, committed themselves to racial reconciliation as part of living out their Christian faith. For Stacy, a white woman from Bakersfield, Calif., that meant living in inner-city Los Angeles. For the Heisey-Terrells as a couple _ Christopher is half-black, half-Latino _that meant attending Evergreen Baptist Church, a half-hour's drive east. But life in an Asian church, even one that had begun to actively seek out non-Asians, has been difficult. Stacy, one of the only white women at the church, struggled to make friends. "I can't take this anymore," she said to her husband. "There's no one like me."

Christopher said: "A lot of people want to move toward having a multi-ethnic congregation ... I think people just don't know how."

Last June, Stacy organized a church luncheon. A pastor suggested picnic food, and she contributed her black-bean salad. On the day of the lunch, about half the crowd of 40 people had gone through when Stacy noticed her salad had not been touched, except by the two other white members there. A Chinese-American acquaintance, seeing her dismay, asked what dish she had made. He had seen something like it before, in an American restaurant, but never tried it. He tentatively tasted it and called others over. Soon everyone had politely tried a few bites.

Mortified, Stacy brought home three-quarters of the salad. "Here I was thinking that the food I brought was normal American picnic food," she said. "I think it was more like normal 'white' American picnic
food." Misunderstandings over food can be particularly painful. "It's so connected to how you grew up and what your family is like," she said.

Family matters are another possible disconnect. At a Bible study group meeting, a Chinese woman told of buying a house and complained that her parents were pushing to move in. Stacy Heisey-Terrell suggested
that it might be OK, if proper boundaries were set.

"That would work with white people, but that's not how Chinese mothers work," the woman told Heisey-Terrell, who was immediately taken aback. "It was just like, 'Uh, I can't participate because I'm different.'"

Music selection can divide diverse congregations, said Tawana Ross, a black woman at Ambassador. Tired of "boring," contemporary praise music at the church, she suggested that worship leaders try some black
gospel music. One person's response: "Is it going to be any of that hollering music that you all play? Because I don't think anybody could handle that."

Work at "handling" it, Asian-American pastors have urged.

"The dominant culture has to give up its privilege," said Fong, of Evergreen. "White folks in this country have so much privilege all the time. But, for people of color, there is privilege in the ethnic enclave that they need to give up, too."

Many Asian-American churchgoers, even those who applaud the multi-racial visions of their leaders, are reluctant to be forced. The process should be allowed to unfold naturally, said David Kang, a member of Remnant. Kang gravitated to Remnant, because he felt Kim, as a Korean-American, could better understand him than a white pastor. Similarly, he felt an affinity to the Korean-Americans who surrounded him in the auditorium. On one of his first weeks at the church, Kang, a technology consultant, met another Korean-American working for an investment bank. Within minutes, the pair had agreed to do business together, he said, something he feels he could not do with a white person.

The Asian church is one of the only places where Asian-Americans can experience a sense of belonging in a white society, Kang said. "Where else can I go to feel Korean, or feel Asian? What, a restaurant? An
Asian arts society?"

Brushes with racism lead many Asian-Americans to subconsciously seek out institutions with others like them, said David Ahn, 24, of Los Angeles, who attends Young-Nak Presbyterian Church. Young-Nak is the nation's largest Korean church, with almost 5,000 attendees a week.

Ahn, who recalled being the butt of Asian jokes while growing up, tried a non-Asian church two years ago while living in San Francisco. He enjoyed it, but after moving back to his hometown of Los Angeles this
year, he chose to return to the Korean church.

"In general, Korean people and white people just act very differently," Ahn said. "I don't necessarily see them as good or bad, just very different than I am."

Pastor Joshua Kang, who leads the English congregation at Lakeview Presbyterian, a mostly Korean church in Chicago, has tried to balance that affinity Koreans feel for each other with a desire to ensure non-Asians feel comfortable, too. "There's nothing wrong with being faithful to the people you are given," said Kang, who has resisted breaking away from the first-generation church. At the same time, he noted Lakeview recently established a multicultural ministry team, and said some black and white church members serve in leadership positions.

At Remnant, other pastors have gently urged Kim to ease up, suggesting there are limits to what he can do. Kim presses on. Spotting a few unfamilar white faces in the audience recently, he became excited. Maybe the church was doing something right, after all. "I see a little hope," Kim said.

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