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As the hashtag #MeToo floods our social media outlets to raise awareness for sexual harassment, we need to ask how we got to the point where almost every woman has experienced some type of it. How did our world become a place where so many women are treated with such little respect?

Do I really believe that change would come if I stopped my “actions” and “just” prayed for reconciliation and justice and provision for those in need? And do I really believe, when I am working for justice, that it’s actually God who brings about the change, and not me? Most of the time, I’m not sure I do.

If there’s one thing that’s helped to keep me rooted and growing, it’s been paying attention to place.

How should we think about serving? If we love doing it, are we fulfilling Jesus’ call to give up our lives? And how can we learn to love sacrificially, in ways that cost us something?

“What is this you have done?”

These words from God to Eve in are always heart-wrenching to me when I read them. I imagine so much anguish in his voice.

I had just walked into Chipotle when one of my Asian American colleagues pulled me aside.

Simplicity and minimalism are buzzwords that come and go, attracting a lot of attention and then fading away again.

What does it mean to be American?

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was, without a doubt, a great leader.

But he was a great follower first.

I realized that I was still operating on a level of loneliness and confusion about my place and purpose as a biracial Latina in classrooms, at work, in my family, and now in my Asian American ���� chapter. The truth was that I was feeling more displaced than ever.