August 1 marks the start of my second year as senior pastor at Wintersburg Presbyterian Church. The past year flew by so quickly. I feel like it was only yesterday when I first introduced myself to the church on a visit in April of 2024. I remember my first day in the office on August 1 and my first Sunday on August 4. My installation service was August 18. And then I don’t remember anything else.
When I first walked through the doors of Wintersburg Presbyterian, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. I found a community caught between two realities. On one hand, there was unmistakable brokenness—years of unspoken conflict had created factions and division. On the other hand, there was undeniable life—a warmth and beauty that revealed a congregation’s deep longing for healing and renewal.
This tension didn’t surprise me. In fact, it’s precisely what we should expect from any community of broken people seeking to follow Christ together. Wintersburg’s struggles weren’t a sign of spiritual failure but of spiritual hunger. The very presence of conflict often indicates that people care deeply about something sacred. They just don’t yet know how to pursue it together.
What I discovered over my first year was that this church’s greatest need wasn’t the elimination of its problems but the cultivation of hope. Wintersburg doesn’t need to become perfect; it needs to become a place where imperfect people can experience the perfect love of God. That work of transformation—messy and slow as it is—has already begun. And after a year of being here, I fully embrace the church in all its glory and its brokenness.
The Call to Broken Places
The church’s reputation preceded it—everyone knew Wintersburg Presbyterian because of its massive sports ministry. The church has a glorious history. What organization today in the world can say that they’ve been around since 1904? Not McDonald’s, not Starbucks, not the Los Angeles Dodgers or the Lakers. But the Lord sustained Wintersburg all throughout the years for his purposes. The church with the beautiful, state of the art gymnasium but with a sanctuary aging rapidly and in need of much deferred maintenance. Despite the church’s longevity, Wintersburg was struggling. Years of internal conflict, declining attendance, and organizational challenges had left deep wounds in the congregation. Many advised me to look elsewhere, to find a congregation that was thriving and stable. Well-intentioned friends and colleagues in ministry implied that this was ministry suicide. Even my elders at my previous church were upset at me for considering a hard and difficult church over a healthy, vibrant church in the East Coast because they loved me and my family. Out of deep care and concern for us, they desired for us to attend and for me to shepherd a healthier flock instead of diseased one.
Outside of Wintersburg, this was the sincere and honest sentiment that was shared with me. Yet something deeper than logic drew me here. Perhaps it was the recognition that brokenness often becomes the very soil where God’s most profound work takes root. And despite the visible fractures within the church structure, I felt an unmistakable calling to this place. My burden wasn’t to fix everything that was wrong, but rather to faithfully preach the gospel and point hearts toward Christ. In a world that often measures success by numbers and programs, Wintersburg reminded me that God’s kingdom operates by entirely different metrics.
Warmth Amidst the Struggle
What struck me immediately was the genuine warmth and hospitality that persisted despite the church’s challenges. The people of Wintersburg Presbyterian possessed a resilience that spoke to something deeper than institutional health. Here were individuals who had weathered storms together, who understood that faith isn’t just about Sunday morning gatherings but about showing up for one another through life’s complexities. And as I met with people and took the time to listen, I saw the strength and resiliency of a church that deeply cares about not just their past, but the future.
I also sensed that the hospitality of the church wasn’t polished or programmatic—it was raw and authentic. People invited me into their stories, their doubts, their hopes. Coffee conversations stretched long past their intended time. Phone calls and office visits were not just about church business but about real struggles and genuine celebrations. This wasn’t the surface-level friendliness that can characterize some religious communities; this was the kind of deep welcome that emerges when people are learning to be vulnerable with one another. Yet I think we still have a long way to go, and we need to become even more vulnerable.
Christ Over Culture: Embracing Our Redemptive Heritage
One of the most profound aspects of my first year has been witnessing how God is weaving together Wintersburg’s rich Japanese heritage with a beautiful expansion into a multi-Asian community. This transformation isn’t merely demographic—it’s deeply theological, reflecting the very heart of the gospel.
Wintersburg’s history as a Japanese heritage church tells a redemptive story that echoes throughout Scripture. Like the Israelites in exile, the early Japanese families who founded this church carried their cultural identity into a foreign land, establishing not just a place of worship but a sanctuary where heritage and faith could coexist. Their stories of maintaining cultural traditions while embracing American life and navigating racism and exclusion while holding fast to faith mirror the biblical narrative of God’s people preserving their identity while living as sojourners in the world.
But here’s what excites me most: God is not finished with this story. What we’re witnessing today is nothing short of an Acts 2 moment—the Spirit is drawing people from various Asian cultures into one body. We have many Taiwanese and Chinese families worshipping alongside other Asian American members. I am a Korean-American and most of our staff members are of different Asian heritage. Hawaiian culture is sprinkled within our congregation as well. This isn’t cultural dilution; it’s cultural multiplication, reflecting the eschatological vision of Revelation 7:9, where every tribe and tongue stands before the throne. The beauty of Asian diversity within our walls teaches us something profound about the gospel. Culture is not erased by Christ, but it’s redeemed by him. And this multi-Asian identity challenges the false binary that often plagues immigrant churches: the choice between preserving culture or pursuing Christ.
At Wintersburg, we’re discovering that the gospel doesn’t demand we choose between these loyalties but rather, it reorders them. Christ over culture doesn’t mean Christ against culture; it means Christ as the interpretive key that unlocks culture’s deepest potential for reflecting God’s glory. Our Hawaiian shirts on Sundays aren’t merely casual dress—they’re a theological statement that God delights in diversity. Our Spam musubis after service aren’t just food—they’re communion in the truest sense, different traditions coming together around one table. Our Hula Ministry isn’t mere cultural performance—it’s embodied worship that reminds us that the gospel transforms and sanctifies every aspect of human expression. Our elderly members who carry memories of exclusion from other churches have created more than a sanctuary of cultural identity—they’ve fashioned a prophetic picture of the kingdom of God, where the last become first, where the marginalized find welcome, where cultural diversity enhances rather than threatens spiritual unity. Their faithfulness through decades of struggle has prepared the soil for this beautiful harvest we’re witnessing today.
Indeed, Wintersburg is evolving, and I believe this is of God’s doing. This is the future of the church. Wintersburg is becoming a multi-Asian church, and we are embracing our Asian American heritage. The church is becoming a community where cultural identity and Christian faith interweave in beautiful and meaningful ways. We are growing as a multi-generational, multi-Asian church that’s focused on making Christ the core and center of our vision.
Ministry in the Margins
Working within a struggling congregation has taught me lessons about ministry that no seminary classroom could provide. Here, every small victory feels significant. A new family visiting feels like cause for celebration. A healing conversation between long-estranged members carries the weight of answered prayer. A successful community outreach event represents not just good programming but evidence that God is still at work in this place.
Brokenness has been my teacher. It has forced me to rely more heavily on prayer, to seek wisdom from unexpected sources, and to remember that the church’s ultimate foundation isn’t human leadership or organizational excellence—it’s Christ himself. Some of my most profound ministry moments this year have emerged not from my strengths but from my willingness to be vulnerable about my own limitations and need for God’s guidance. This beautiful church is teaching me that preaching the gospel isn’t just about Sunday sermons but about living out Christ’s love in countless small acts of service, seeking forgiveness, and being present throughout the week.
Looking Forward
As I reflect on this first year, I’m filled with gratitude for the privilege of serving this community. Wintersburg Presbyterian Church may be broken in conventional terms, but it’s also been a place where I’ve witnessed God’s faithfulness in tangible ways. The warmth of the people, the richness of the cultural heritage, and the authenticity born from shared struggle have created an environment where ministry feels both challenging and deeply meaningful.
Moving forward, I remain committed to the simple but profound calling that brought me here: preaching the gospel and pointing hearts toward Christ. In a church that knows its brokenness, there’s a particular receptivity to the message of grace and redemption. And in that receptivity, I’ve found not just a place to serve, but a community that has taught me as much about faith as I could ever hope to offer in return.
My first year at Wintersburg Presbyterian Church has been a reminder that God often chooses the broken places to display his glory most clearly. I wouldn’t trade this experience for any other, and I look forward to the lessons and growth the coming years will bring.
This article is part of the Leaders’ Line blog, written by various leaders and geared specifically toward those serving in leadership. Our email newsletter goes out twice a month. In addition to Leaders’ Line articles, each newsletter includes news and notes curated especially for ministry leaders. Sign up here to receive it directly in your inbox.