Tell Your Story

Growing up in Korea, my family used to move a lot. We probably moved once every year during my elementary school years. Because of this, I didn't have any friends and I hated that. I also didn’t really talk much. When people tried to talk to me, I would simply walk away. I remember people asking me if I could talk or if I were mute. I didn't want to talk to people because I didn't want people to find out things about me or my family. My stepmother also didn't want me to talk to others about us. But once the neighbors found out about us, we would pack up and move, as we always did.

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It’s been a long time since I sat down to think about my father; not my heavenly father, but my earthly one. I still live with him and yes, we talk on occasion but our relationship is far from engaging, let alone loving. We’ve both come a long way, but the memories of our past haunt me through my prayers and permeate beyond the joys of life.

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My father passed away in the fall semester of my freshman year in high school. It felt surreal hearing it that one morning. I didn’t really know what to make of it. Perhaps I felt the way I did because my parents weren’t in a good place before it happened, and I have resented my father for causing pain and hardships toward my mother, even though I don’t think he did it intentionally. He was often frustrated because he couldn’t help the family the way he wanted to due to the language barrier and lack of jobs available. I remember one night my parents were arguing and my father asked if he should leave because he didn’t want to bring the family down.

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I grew up in the most basic, common Korean-American immigrant family. My sister and I always tried to keep our grades above a 90 and our parents would work hard to support us. Money was always an issue in our family but I never really thought much of it. 

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I wasn't planning to write a testimony until someone asked me to. In my current situation, it is hard for me to be active at church, but I decided that I would share my testimony for my own good (and maybe for others too).

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I was born and raised in a Christian household, so most of the things that I learned about God came from my early childhood. I learned Bible stories like the flood and the Noah’s Ark, and David’s defeat against Goliath during Saturday schools and Sunday services. I also grew up learning about Bible characters, such as Moses, Joseph, and Jesus. And the most repetitive thing I’ve heard was the phrase, “Jesus loves you.”

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I have two major goals that I want to complete before I meet Jesus face to face. 

One of them is to truly understand the Bible. But there was a struggle blocking my path of understanding the Bible. The struggle was that I had very little faith. At times, when I woke up in the middle of the night, I would just think that God isn’t real. When that doubt filled my heart, I would flip through my Bible and just start reading. I read the Book of Acts and read a few chapters. I read about God’s miracles and that made my faith stronger. I thought I was changed and healed at that moment, but I was wrong. I didn’t know how to be a true Christian. It was so hard for me because I knew that there was so much more to being a Christian than just reading the Bible.

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The stage was set, I was in K-town; the night was young, I was at the cusp of hearing ill news. I removed myself from the phone call, deciding in my heart who I would become. He did not know, but in his pain, he let his anguish dictate his future. As Anakin Skywalker would address Palpatine as “master”, so I let loose the chains of all my Christian upbringing and embraced all that the world had to offer.

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For the majority of my college years I struggled with heavy depression and at times I really couldn’t see a purpose or meaning at the end of it all. My depression was a gradual process. As a child, I always had this overwhelming sense of loneliness and emptiness, and it only grew as I got older. 

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When someone wrongs you in any shape or form it is very difficult to forgive. To some it may be easy to just forgive and forget but personally I struggle to just let things go. People who’ve cheated me, slandered me, hurt me, or even used me I would just cut them out of my life and move on, but I often find myself being irritable and anxious. 

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I was taught in church from a very young age that premarital sex was a sin. I told myself when I was younger that I would save my virginity for my husband because I wanted to obey God and do the right thing. This, as well as my religion, went out the window when I started college at the age of 18. Everyone was having sex around me, and no one else I knew thought it was a sin. If everyone else was doing it, why couldn’t I? So, I lost my virginity in college, and I didn’t stop.

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I’m done for,” I thought. All I had to do was simply finish up the last few weeks of my junior year internship. My pride and unchecked emotions got the best of me as the other interns and I discussed current events on heated international affairs between North Korea and the rest of the world. In the tense group chat conversation, I used a politically incorrect term which was then reported to the human resources department by another intern. As all of the Wall Street internship advice thematically states: “Just stay off the radar and give off the appearance that you work hard, are well liked, and that you know what you’re doing, and you’ll secure the full time offer.” I did everything right, but all it took was one misstep to see my hard work start to dematerialize into thin air. I concluded my internship with a strand of hope that they would call me back with a full time offer so I can come back after graduation.

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One of the biggest struggles that I've been going through ever since high school was watching pornography. I thought it was just a phase for guys to watch it going through puberty, but it became a disease the more I kept falling into it. I knew I was addicted especially in college and felt ashamed because I would go to church and pretend like I am a "good" Christian. I really couldn't help myself but to watch it as years went by and knew I needed help but didn't know the solution. 

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I have considered myself a Christian for as long as I can remember. I was raised in a Christian home and attended church every Sunday. During my youth, most summers were spent at church summer schools, revivals and retreats. At every revival I would “accept Christ as my personal savior” but I wouldn’t feel any different and my life wouldn’t really change. I didn’t feel any closer to God and I didn’t experience the Holy Spirit like some of my friends claimed to. “Why not me?,” I wondered. I questioned God’s existence. 

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Although what was requested was a testimony, this may sound more of an incoherent reflection directed from my honest, raw thoughts. In fact, I am not going to lie to you and say that God moves me greatly as He moves the ocean waves, nor say that I have placed my full efforts on doing the work of God and not on other selfish endeavors. I am not going to lie to you that God has a firm place in my heart and that my once hardened heart beats new. None of that is true. My heart has hardened and to be honest, it has hardened more than ever. I was inspired to write my own testimony by reading all the powerful, moving ones by my fellow brothers and sisters at Grace, yet I simply cannot relate right now. I know I am lost, but the worst part is, I can hardly feel it because of all that is going on right now.

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Back in the early 2000s, when I was a sophomore in high school, I spoke to a counselor for the first time about my family struggles. My parents were fighting night and day. My father had cheated on my mother. These were terrible times. I was panicked and nervous all the time that I couldn't focus in school. Even though it was the relationship of my parents that had been tainted and broken, I felt so abandoned and alone. I hated everyone.   

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I think I’ve always had problems with wanting to earn my faith through my works, or wanting to find my self-worth in the things that I’ve accomplished. Maybe it’s because I’m the oldest child of Korean American immigrants and have always felt the need to ‘pay back’ all that they’ve sacrificed for me, or to be as independent and self-sufficient as I possibly can so that my parents don’t have to worry about me. Or maybe it’s because I’ve always fallen into the thought that how I look or how much I weigh makes me undeserving of love, so I need to make up for it in other areas of my life. 

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For the past year and a half, I've been feeling like I was stuck in place. While everyone around me was moving along with their plans and aspirations for their future, I felt like I wasn't going anywhere. I would go to school, do my work, go home, play games for a couple of hours and go to sleep. That was basically my whole routine since high school but starting junior year of college my demeanor started to change. Over time, I felt that I was becoming depressed and started to not care about anything anymore. I would just cut classes and go out to drink and hang out with my friends. I eventually quit school thinking that school was what was causing me to be depressed. But I soon realized that school wasn't the issue. I still felt depressed while playing games or watching television at home.

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My childhood was something I considered to be normal all my life. It was only recently that I began to realize that the conditions in which I grew up in was not normal. Growing up, my dad had a hard time controlling his alcohol use and suffered through depression. I don’t think I have many memories being with him when he was sober. He would come home drunk almost every day and release his anger towards the rest of the family. He would only tell me that he loved me when he was drunk and his actions would make me feel uncomfortable. And on especially rowdy nights at home, I would have to speak as a witness for my mom whenever she called the police to report my dad. I would lie to the police while my mom acted as the victim and my dad will be pulled away in custody. 

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I grew up under extremely religious parents. All my parents talk about is church and how blessed they are to be believers. They go out of their ways to spend money that we do not have to contribute to the church. And they take time out of their busy schedule to attend almost every service, prayer meeting, and fellowship. My parents taught me almost everything I know about what it means to be a Christian - mainly to know that God is always with me and that He loves me. Thanks to my upbringing, on Sundays, I would wake up super early to go to church with a very eager heart to learn more about Him. For the rest of the week, I would read books filled with pictures and Bible stories for hours and pray consistently. I loved and craved it. It was such an amazing feeling to have as a four-year-old. 

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