Metro Stories: John Chung

Hello Metro fam, I’m humbled to share a bit of my story with you.

Like many of us, I went to church for as long as I can remember. It wasn’t much different from attending school, only that my church was smaller, homogenous, and we ate donuts…every Sunday. I learned about history, sang some catchy songs with hand motions, and caught on pretty quickly that when the Sunday school teacher asks you a question and you weren’t paying attention, the best answer is always “Jesus.”

Unfortunately, what I learned in those musty church buildings didn’t penetrate below the surface; knowing that “Jesus died for my sins” had about as much impact on my life as the objective truth that George Washington was our nation’s first president.

Growing up, I craved the acceptance of others—my parents, my friends, a girlfriend. I worked hard to please others but found it difficult to maintain their approval. The dopamine hit from knowing I was accepted and “loved” kept me on the endless treadmill of insecurity and fatigue. It was frustrating to never feel satisfied, regardless of what I did, who I dated, or what accomplishments I achieved in school or in sports; it was never enough.

When I moved away to college, I lost the familiarity of home. No parents, no friends, and my girlfriend of 2 years said it was time to move on. What a gut check. I sampled the easy fixes around me—parties, substances, another girlfriend, but it only left me emptier, still thirsty. When it felt like I hit rock bottom, the words of the Bible from my early years began to illuminate, like a glow worm in a dark cave. “I will never leave you.” “I have loved you with an everlasting love.” “It is by grace you have been saved, and not of your works.” And stories like the prodigal son flooded my mind. I was that younger son.

What followed was a season of what felt like learning about Jesus again, for the first time. Church wasn’t simply a routine; I actually looked forward to Sundays. My church in college didn’t have free donuts, but I was still satisfied. The beauty of the cross of Christ, and his personal, specific, proactive love for me, satiated my soul. In fact, I couldn’t get enough. My craving for the acceptance of others began to diminish, the insecurity that plagued me was dissipating, and instead of fatigue, there was rest and deep strength.

But not long after, I fell into another common snare along the way. Instead of looking to “worldly” things to fill my void, I unintentionally was looking to “religious” things to medicate my soul. It was a slow, almost imperceptible shift, but I was not going to God for God, but for what God offered. My ears itched for knowledge, I took pride in having the “right” theology, and gradually I began to look down on other Christians, those who were less “mature,” those who weren’t like me.

I was previously attending a church whose denomination I put on a pedestal and whose pastors and leaders I thought could do no wrong. But when some hidden sins of the denomination became public, my view of spiritual leadership was shaken. I questioned the church as an institution, considered a house church (as if it isn’t also made up of sinners), and I was unclear on the path forward.

It was around this time that my family started attending Metro. My sin antennae were on peak sensitivity, and I was on a bit of a witch hunt. It didn’t take long for me to question the actions, motivations and words of the leaders, thinking that I was righteously judging them and actually helping them see their mistakes. When a kind friend I had recently gotten to know at Metro lovingly confronted me about my actions, motivations and words, saying what emanated from me was self-righteousness and pride, I was stunned. For the first time, I was confronted by the possibility that perhaps I could be wrong, perhaps I was being unloving, perhaps I was more like the Pharisee than the repentant tax collector.

Shortly thereafter, Covid shut down the world, and I had an extended period of time to reflect. I had multiple conversations with others in Metro, and there were many times I wanted to throw up the walls of self-justification, self-preservation, or just walk away from the church all together; I didn’t need this! Who were these guys to tell me that I’m wrong, and that I’m the prideful one? They’re the ones who aren’t getting it. They’re the ones who are blind to their sin, and God brought me here to reveal it to them…(yikes).

Gradually, the Lord began to open my eyes. His words about removing the plank from my eye before even attempting to remove the speck in my brother’s eye cut me to the core. God’s ways are higher than my ways, and His thoughts are higher than mine, so if God established pastors and elders to lead His church and called me to submit to them, then I should trust Him at His word. He didn’t say that they would be sinless or that they would never make a selfish decision, but in His infinite wisdom, He called us to follow His ordained leadership—not too differently from the roles He established for a husband and wife, or parents and children.

The biblical knowledge that had once puffed me up began to bring conviction. Specifically, that parable of the prodigal son had a different perspective—perhaps the older son was more lost than the younger. He was the one who worked and obeyed his father not because he loved his dad, but because of what he would get from his dad, to look better than his wayward brother, and receive recognition for his loyalty and service. Perhaps I was more like the older son in my self-righteousness and bitterness. And the beauty of the father’s love is that he yearns for the restoration of both of his sons.

I’ve learned that our Savior’s love is so multifaceted. It isn’t just for the hedonistic, “sinful” person that chases money, pleasure and fame. And it isn’t just for the self-righteous, critical, religious person who looks down his nose at others for not living up to a standard. I’ve been both, and I continue to teeter between the two fallacies. As it turns out, I do need the loving correction of those around me, because I remain blind to my blindness. In my honest moments, I realize that God does not treat me as my sins deserve, and that the only thing that never disappoints is Christ alone. This amazing grace and patience of our Heavenly Father is for anyone who is willing to surrender, lay down their bad and their “good,” and like the thief on the Cross next to Jesus, simply place their faith in the Lamb of God.

In a world where everything under the sun is promised as that which will truly satisfy, it’s funny that in the end, the only correct answer actually is, Jesus.