He aha te mea nui o te ao?
He tangata! He tangata! He tangata!
What is the most important thing in the world?
It is people! It is people! It is people!
– Maori proverb
Whoever decided every story began with, “Once upon a time,” clearly didn’t know stories very well. As I think about my Church of God story, there is no clear “once upon a time” beginning. Rather, there were people who played their parts to weave together the tapestry of this story I now share with you.
Both my parents grew up in Buddhist homes in Singapore. My mum went to a school founded by Presbyterian missionaries in newly post-colonial Singapore. There, she was introduced to the Christian faith through Girls’ Brigade, a school-based Christian programme similar to the Girl Guides. While her parents strongly objected to her new belief system, she managed to sneak off to church on Sundays with the Girls’ Brigade using the excuse that it was a school activity. But when her schooling years were over, she no longer had that excuse. As long as she lived under her parents’ roof (which Singaporeans do until they are married), she wasn’t allowed to attend church.
A few years after my parents were married, my mum decided to take us back to church. I have few vague memories of that “church-shopping” phase we went through, except for the one distinct memory of watching the grown-ups share the same big cup at the Anglican church. We eventually found ourselves in a little church about fifteen minutes away from where we lived. I don’t know what was different about that church, except that Auntie Kim who had invited us was a friend of my mum’s, and the sister-in-law of Neville Tan, the senior pastor at the church. That little church became our home church for the rest of my growing up years.
On a tiny island densely packed with five-million people, a church our size wasn’t well-known. And while I heard all the good Bible stories, I never realised this little church was a part of something bigger. If it was unheard of in Singapore, why would it be known anywhere else in the world? Or so I thought anyway.
I didn’t realise it then, but two memories from that little church would eventually play a big role in my Church of God story. The first were the words, “Holiness, Unity and Servanthood,” and the flame symbol that appeared on our church newsletters and the walls of our building. I don’t remember ever being taught what they meant, but they stuck with me even as a child. I didn’t need a lesson on what they meant to know that they were important–something that struck me with awe at the work and Spirit of the God I worshipped.
The other was this elderly American couple that would visit our church once every few years. I didn’t remember much about them except their names–Drs. Sidney and Jean Johnson. Not once did I expect that years down the road, they would be the faces I longed to see to ease my homesickness when my Church of God story took me to Anderson, Indiana.
In a culture where only the elite moved away for school or work, studying abroad had never crossed my mind. But I had begun sensing a call to vocational ministry, and there were too many cultural barriers in Asian society to accept that a young, single, female might be called. Besides, not having female ministry models growing up left me doubts about whether I would even “qualify” for vocational ministry. Instead I spoke only of a desire to pursue music, and was told by Pastor Neville that there was a sister college in Anderson, Indiana with a music programme of decent repute.
I didn’t realise moving to Anderson University would eventually lead to a much bigger understanding of what “Holiness, Unity, Servanthood” and those flames meant. Out of convenience more than any deep theological insight, Park Place Church of God became my home church. It was there that I was first introduced to figures like Randy Bargerstock, Ann Smith, Kristin Longenecker, Ed Fry, Arthur Kelly and Carma Wood–spiritual giants who would come to greatly influence the way I understood the Church of God.
Involvement with Tri-S (Study, Serve, Share–a missions education programme at AU) and various Campus Ministries activities solidified my call not only to vocational ministry, but to continuing cross-cultural work. While I continued struggling with direction, I knew I needed theological education. A defining moment came one morning the summer of 2006 as I watched Warner Auditorium being demolished. I didn’t grow up in the North American Church of God, so I had no history with the dome. But there is something about that Church of God heritage that offers you a place of belonging even with only a limited shared history. I knew then that even though I didn’t have the claim of generations of Church of God blood, it was home because I believed in holiness, unity, a life of servanthood, and the flames of the Church of God reformation movement. It’s where I belong.
As I thought more about seminary, there was only option: the AU School of Theology. I wasn’t in denial that there would be better programmes offered at other seminaries. But I had made the Church of God my home, and there would be no better place to prepare for vocational ministry than at our own seminary. And I cannot be more thankful. Theological education at the AUSOT extended beyond the classroom to conversations in the hallways, around the table at community dinners and the homes of Greg Robertson, MaryAnn Hawkins and Kimberly Majeski–teachers and mentors whom we knew on first-name basis even though they had fancy titles like “The Reverend Dr”. It was a place where I learnt to live out “the priesthood of all believers,” “extending our hand of fellowship to every blood-washed one,” and footwashing, a very Church of God ordinance.
While in seminary, I also had the privilege to catch glimpses of the Church of God around the world. I was offered a job as the administrative assistant to Bob Edwards (recently retired Global Missions coordinator whom I had gotten to know through Park Place), and an internship with Kelley and Rhonda Philips with the Church of God in Berlin, Germany. Through conversations with missionaries and national leaders of churches around the world, I began to appreciate even more what it means to be called to a life of holiness, unity and servanthood–a calling that transcends culture and political boundaries.
But I also began to realise I had come into the Church of God family with a little bit of naivete, assuming that a powerful rallying call like ours would quickly and easily unite people. The disappointments from that naivete have left me wondering on more than one occasion if it had been a mistake to call this movement home. The reality is, we don’t live in a perfect or ideal world. No matter where we turn to, there will be disappointments as long as there are imperfect humankind involved.
So I choose daily to claim the Church of God as home and part of my Christian identity not because it has been the straight and easy road. I choose this rich heritage because it has offered me an incredible way to understand the work and mission of God in the world. I believe in our theology and am committed to struggling in the call to holiness and unity alongside each of my sisters and brothers who have “washed [our] robes in the cleansing fountain”. And when the going gets tough, I rely on the people who helped weave together my Church of God story (which include the co-contributors to this community blog whom I co-labour with because of AUSOT) to remind me this is the place I belong because of my calling and my choice.
He tangata! He tangata! He tangata!
It is people! It is people! It is people!