We Can Do Nothing Without the Lord

John 15:5 “I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing.” 

Happy New Year! 

As we count down to 2026, it is almost unimaginable to realize that we are already here. It feels as though my ministerial journey has only just taken its first step. I now begin a new year as I continue toward the completion of my second year of ministry, with renewed hope and responsibility. 

I pray and hope that 2026 will be a year entirely different from the one before. I long to see our church grow not only numerically, but also deepen internally—so that every ministry and department becomes more structured, well organized, and operated more effectively. I believe this is a vision shared by many churches as they enter a new year. 

While many churches hold such dreams, only a few actually reach those goals. I believe there are four important reasons behind that difference. 

First, as we begin this new year, I hope we start each day with a renewed heart and a fresh mindset. Whatever journey we walked through last year, let us put it behind us and not look back. We may have endured difficult seasons and made many mistakes, but we must not allow those moments to haunt us or hold us back. Do not let broken dreams or painful memories define your future. God has new plans for us this year. 

Second, rather than dwelling negatively on our past mistakes, I hope we learn to see God’s teaching within them. What matters most is not the failure itself, but the attitude with which we reflect upon it. Through reflection, God shapes us and prepares us for growth. 

Third, remain steadfast in faith and expect good things in your life. Believe that God always desires to bring what is best into our lives. God never tests us in order to disappoint us, but to strengthen us and draw us closer to Him. 

Lastly—and most importantly—let us remember this truth: 

we can do nothing without Christ. As we pursue our goals and vision for this year, may we not rely solely on our own abilities or efforts, but instead pray wholeheartedly and depend entirely on God. May we empty ourselves so that we may be filled with His power, allowing Him to accomplish freely what He desires to do through us. 

As we return again to this central truth, I pray that the goals we hold for our church this year may be fully realized, that the lives of each member may be strengthened, and that the fragrance of Christ may overflow among us. 

May the grace and peace of God be abundant blessings upon your homes and upon all that you do.

Vision 2026 

Promise....

 Every new year, I am asked the same question: 

“What is your vision for your church this year?” I imagine most pastors hear this question often. 

My vision for the church this year is the same as it was last year: church growth—specifically, numerical growth. 

I am fully aware that such a vision can sound shallow or even worldly. Still, this was the very question I was asked during my interview with the Pastoral Nominating Committee last year, and I answered it honestly, with confidence. That answer led to my calling to serve as pastor of this church. Therefore, this vision is not merely a response to a question; it is a promise I have made to this congregation. 

What matters most now is not the vision itself, but how we faithfully live it out. 

How can we pursue growth in a way that is not only numerical, but also spiritually and emotionally healthy? 

As I reflected on this question, I revisited New Management (1993) by Henry G. Frankfurt. In this work, Frankfurt argues that organizational growth does not come primarily through structural reform or operational changes, but through the renewal and development of people. 

When the right people are carefully selected, nurtured, and developed, structures naturally evolve and improve. 

This philosophy has been embraced by organizations such as Samsung, Toyota Motor Corporation, and Apple under Steve Jobs. Their growth came through intentional investment in people—identifying talent, nurturing it, and empowering it to flourish. 

Jesus modeled this same principle. To proclaim the gospel, He did not establish an organization or build an institution. Instead, He chose people, trained them, and formed them into disciples. His final command was simple and clear: “Make disciples.” From that obedience, the church was born naturally. 

Vision and People 

To keep my promise and faithfully pursue this vision, I commit to focusing on three priorities. 

First, we need to identify, support, and develop leaders who will faithfully invest in ministry with children, youth, and their families. 

In the past, many families came to church primarily for worship and entrusted their children to age-appropriate programs while they attended services. Sunday school functioned as a support ministry for adult worship. Today, the reality has changed. Many parents now seek out churches by first examining the quality of their children’s and youth ministries. 

What parents are looking for is not necessarily large facilities or large numbers, but who is teaching and caring for their children. The character, faith, and calling of those leaders matter deeply. It is our responsibility to find such leaders and invest in them faithfully. 

Second, we need leaders who are committed, humble, and willing to serve. 

Through such leaders, we hope to care for each member of the congregation not merely as a part of the church as a whole, but as a precious and irreplaceable individual, someone of sacred worth before God. 

If we allow even one person to drift away quietly and unnoticed, we must pause and ask: what meaning does it have to work so hard to bring in new members? 

Faithful ministry is not only about welcoming new people; it is also about noticing those who are slowly slipping away. 

Jesus’ parable of the lost sheep in the Gospel of Luke speaks directly to this truth. At the heart of His action is a powerful reminder that every single person matters. No one is expendable. We are called to labor faithfully for the spiritual well-being of each person entrusted to our care. 

For this reason, we are called to become servants like Jesus—shepherds who lead by serving, who seek the one who is lost, and who value each person deeply. And this is the kind of leadership the church truly needs today. 

Third, we must create an environment in which dedicated leaders can serve effectively by clarifying their responsibilities and establishing healthy leadership boundaries. 

Even when someone is gifted and capable, if they do not understand the purpose of their role or the proper use of their gifts, they may unintentionally waste their strengths. Clear expectations and healthy boundaries allow leaders to flourish rather than burn out or become discouraged. 

There are two kinds of churches. 

(1) One lacks workers and therefore cannot grow. 

(2) The other has workers, but fails to discern, train, and empower them effectively. 

 If we are willing to invest in people, give them opportunities, and support them with care, our church can grow healthily and faithfully this year. 

It is my prayer that this vision will prove to be more than words—that it will reveal the sincerity of my promise and the faithfulness of God among us.

This is Not America: A Moral Crisis

Psalm 82:3-4 "Give justice to the weak and the orphan; maintain the right of the lowly and the destitute.”

The United States is a nation formed by immigrants and shaped by migration. From its earliest days, immigrants and settlers were forced to carve out their lives with their own hands. In a new and unfamiliar land, they endured hardship and sacrifice in order to care for their families. Government institutions in that early period were limited in their ability to protect or provide. Survival depended instead on self-reliance, shared responsibility, and cooperation within local communities.

Out of that reality emerged a moral vision that shaped the American spirit.

This was not merely economic behavior; it was a deeply moral way of life formed under pressure, necessity, and hope.

It was within this moral and historical context that American law took shape. Leaders such as Thomas Jefferson, drawing from earlier moral, philosophical, and religious traditions, believed that the purpose of law was not to strengthen the powerful, but to restrain power—and to safeguard human dignity, especially for those without power. Law, at its best, existed not to overlook the weak, but to protect them.

Over time, this understanding of justice became part of the nation’s moral identity. To refuse to ignore the poor, the powerless, and the vulnerable became a defining feature of what many have called the American spirit. It is a spirit woven deeply into the national character—an enduring moral DNA that has not been easily erased.

This spirit can be seen in the way the United States has sent more missionaries across the world than any other nation and has consistently provided aid to countries suffering from poverty and disaster. This generosity is not explained simply by wealth. Even during the Great Depression, from 1929 to 1939—a time of severe economic hardship at home—Americans continued to give, to share, and to support those in need. In times of war, young men and women were sent into dangerous places, often sacrificing their lives to protect others. We remember them as heroes, not because they sought power, but because they stood in defense of the vulnerable.

Care for the weak and the powerless—this compassion is deeply embedded in the American conscience. And it is also deeply embedded in the Christian faith. Scripture consistently calls God’s people to protect the stranger, the orphan, and the widow. Justice and mercy are not optional virtues; they are marks of faithful obedience.

Yet today, we witness scenes that trouble this moral inheritance. A father is taken away on the street. A child, not fully understanding what is happening, weeps in fear. A mother and daughter cry out, desperate not to be forcibly separated. This is not who we have understood ourselves to be. What we are seeing now stands in sharp contrast to the values our ancestors struggled to establish.

No matter how carefully the law explains itself, my heart remains unconvinced. Why?

This is not merely a legal issue. It is a crisis of moral identity. It is a question of whether the American spirit—formed through hardship, compassion, and responsibility—still lives within us.

I do not claim expertise in law. But I know what makes Americans grieve. I know what wounds the conscience of a people shaped by justice and mercy. And today, it feels as though I am looking not at America, but at something unfamiliar—something that does not yet reflect the best of who we are called to be.

Who Is the Victor?

In northern Lithuania, near the city of Šiauliai, there stands a sacred place known as the Hill of Crosses. When you enter, you see more than one hundred thousand crosses of every size and design, covering the hill in what seems like an endless testimony of faith.

Beginning in 1831 and continuing through the mid-nineteenth century, Lithuanian citizens erected these crosses in resistance to the persecution and religious oppression imposed by the Russian government. Each time authorities removed them, the people returned secretly at night to raise new crosses again. Families also placed crosses in memory of loved ones who had been killed and buried by Russian soldiers.

Though this hill bears the memory of suffering and brutal suppression, it also proclaims spiritual victory. Through the cross, the people resisted their oppressors and found healing for their grief. The crosses remain standing even today.

So who, then, is the true victor?

When Jesus was crucified, the Jewish religious leaders and the Roman authorities may have believed they had won. By removing the One who did not conform to their religious and social order, they likely thought they had eliminated a threat to their power.

But did Jesus truly fail? Did they truly win?

The apostle Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 1:18 (NKJV):

“For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.”

History has answered clearly over the past two thousand years: the cross did not mark the failure of Christ but the triumph of God’s redemptive plan.

This is the spirit of the cross — and the spirit of the Christian life. In the way of Christ:

We overcome by surrendering.

We gain by giving.

We become strong by embracing weakness.

The more we endure patiently, the more we are able to embrace others.

The more we forgive, the deeper peace we receive.

As we follow the way of the cross, we discover that true victory is not found in domination, but in sacrificial love.

This is the victory of the cross.

The Very Thing We Should Do 

The person who transformed Samsung into the global corporation it is today was the founder’s son, the late Chairman Lee Kun-hee. One of the defining qualities of his leadership was his insight into choosing business partners and identifying the right people to work with. 

About forty years ago, Lee Kun-hee spent nearly ten years preparing to gain the support of an American entrepreneur. During that time, he consistently sent information about Samsung’s growth and progress in order to build trust and present a positive image of the company. After roughly a decade of preparation, he finally arranged a dinner meeting in the United States with the goal of forming a partnership. He flew to the U.S., met the entrepreneur at a restaurant, and spent the entire evening explaining Samsung’s business structure, vision, and the potential benefits of investment. 

Lee Kun-hee left the meeting believing it had been successful. However, the following day, he received a call from the entrepreneur’s secretary informing him that a partnership with Samsung would not be possible. Deeply disappointed, Lee called again a few days later and asked for an explanation. 

The entrepreneur responded candidly. He explained that during the dinner, he had been observing Lee Kun-hee’s character before making any decision. His hope had been to enjoy a pleasant meal and meaningful conversation together—that, in fact, was the purpose of meeting at a restaurant. Instead, Lee Kun-hee focused exclusively on presenting his business plans, without considering the other person’s interests. As a result, the entrepreneur concluded that he could not work with someone who pursued only his own objectives. Such a person, he believed, might eventually betray others when personal profit was at stake. 

After this experience, Lee Kun-hee adopted a new principle. Whenever he faced an important business decision, he made it a point to share a meal first. During these meals, he evaluated potential partners not solely by their proposals, but by whether they could genuinely enjoy the moment together. His criterion was simple: 

Someone who could share a good meal and converse comfortably about life was someone he could trust. 

This approach later played a significant role in selecting the people who contributed to Samsung’s long-term success. 

This story offers a broader insight into responsibility and focus. A student’s primary task is to study well. A carpenter’s purpose is to make a good chair. A cook’s role is to prepare good food. Likewise, when people sit down to eat, the essence of that moment is not productivity, but the simple act of enjoying the meal itself. 

This raises an important question: are we truly focused on the core responsibility of what we are meant to do? 

This question can also be applied to institutions. For example, the fundamental role of the church is clear. 

It exists to encounter God and to experience His salvation 

Everything the church does should serve this single purpose. Worship, fellowship, and Bible study are not ends in themselves, but practices established to keep the church focused on its essence. 

From this perspective, in 2026, our church seeks to continue moving toward this purpose. Meeting God and experiencing His presence and salvation in our daily lives—this is the reason the church exists, and it is also the reason the pastor exists. 

Why Do We Feel Such Deep Sadness and Anger Today? 

There are two public figures I respect deeply. One of them is Nicolas Cage. At one time, he was among the most influential actors in the world and one of the highest-paid in Hollywood. However, because of an extravagant and undisciplined lifestyle, he lost much of his fame and fortune. Today, he often appears in low-budget independent films and continues to face financial difficulties. 

Yet there is one thing he has done consistently—both in the height of his success and in his years of struggle: he has continued to help the poor. While staying in modest hotels and living simply, he reportedly donates nearly 40 percent of his income to charitable causes. In an interview, he once said, 

“We all make mistakes. Making mistakes is not failure. Failing to take responsibility for those mistakes is.” 

For him, keeping his promise to care for the poor is a way of taking responsibility for his own failures. 

Another person I admire is Princess Catharina-Amalia of the Netherlands, the future queen of the country. Despite her royal status, she did not grow up enjoying special privileges. As a young woman, she worked at a fast-food restaurant. During her university years, she lived in a dormitory alongside other students. Eventually, she had to move out—not by choice, but for safety reasons—and this deeply saddened her. She once said, 

“Privilege is not given to be enjoyed, but to be used in service.” 

From these two lives, I see one crucial truth: those who are given much carry a responsibility toward those who are given less—and society instinctively respects those who live with that sense of responsibility. 

Privilege without accountability breeds arrogance and stubborn pride. It leads followers into confusion, spreads falsehood, and causes unnecessary suffering. Ultimately, it divides society. Those intoxicated by success crave praise and admiration, yet they skillfully use words and selectively apply laws to conceal their own mistakes or shift the burden onto others. To preserve their privileges, they demand sacrifice—not from themselves, but from those who already have the least. 

This is the reality we see today. 

Reckless policy failures are excused, and the resulting losses are passed on to the weak and vulnerable. Those with little are too easily labeled as potential “criminals” simply because they lack power. 

History teaches us something sobering. The decline and collapse of once-great nations never began from external threats. They always began from within. The selfishness and dishonesty of leaders who sought privilege without responsibility led to corruption. Corruption eroded public trust. And when people no longer trust their leaders, they no longer feel compelled to sacrifice for their nation or government. This pattern appears again and again in every fallen empire of the past. 

This is why we grieve. And this is why we must pray. 

Every institution—whether a nation, a city, or a community—needs leaders who understand that privilege must always be matched with responsibility. That is why we are called to pray: for our country, for our cities, and for leaders who will serve rather than exploit, who will take responsibility rather than shift blame, and who will lead with humility instead of entitlement.

Blessed Are the Poor in Spirit 

Matthew 5:3  “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” 

Last year, while visiting my family in Los Angeles, I found myself sitting in my favorite coffee shop in Hollywood, waiting for them to arrive. The café sits at the heart of Hollywood Boulevard—a place where thousands of people from all over the world pass through every single day. The famous Hollywood Walk of Fame stretches right beside it. Just a few blocks away stands the church my family attends for worship. Down the hill lies Beverly Hills, one of the wealthiest cities in the country. Luxury stores, designer brands, and glamorous malls cluster at the intersection of Beverly and Hollywood. 

It would not be an exaggeration to say that Hollywood Boulevard is one of the most crowded, vibrant, and energetic places in the world. 

And yet, on that particular Sunday, I noticed something I usually overlook. 

As I looked around, many of the people sitting or standing near me appeared worn out and exhausted. Some were likely scriptwriters or workers in the film industry. Others wore striking, even provocative outfits—perhaps actors or actresses waiting for their moment to be noticed. Some may have just finished working a night shift. I cannot be certain. But what caught my attention was not their clothing or profession—it was their faces. Beneath the excitement and extravagance of the city, I saw fatigue, emptiness, and quiet despair etched into expressions I normally pass by without noticing. 

Behind the wealth and luxury of the city, loneliness and brokenness seemed deeply woven into everyday life. That felt like a far more honest and realistic picture of our world. 

At what may have been Jesus’ first public teaching—the Sermon on the Mount—he begins with these words: “Blessed are the poor in spirit.” This opening blessing, written in Greek, does not point simply to economic poverty. Among those listening to Jesus were surely people of social standing, financial stability, and public respect. Their lives may have appeared comfortable and secure. 

The word poor, then, speaks less about money and more about the inner condition of the human heart. 

Jesus’ concern begins with what is happening within us. He looks beyond appearances and into the depths of the mind and soul. There, he sees that many of us are emotionally exhausted, spiritually depleted, and quietly isolated. The Lord knows our need for healing—not just of circumstances, but of the inner life. He knows how deeply we need renewal. 

“And theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” 

Perhaps this promise needs to be re-heard and reinterpreted for those of us living in the modern world. God’s kingdom does not arrive only as something external or distant. Rather, God gently enters the disordered, anxious spaces within us and begins the work of restoration with a careful, healing touch. 

When we reflect on our own lives, we realize that internal anxiety often weighs heavier than the pressures coming from outside. 

And this inner struggle is something only we truly know. Others may look at us and see stability, success, and confidence. But God—the One who created us—sees far deeper. God alone sees the fragile places within our hearts. 

And God knows that, in spirit, we are poor. 

That is precisely why the kingdom of heaven comes to dwell within us.

Lent - Wilderness Training

Matthew 4:1 “Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.”

After Sunday worship, I was talking with Steve Yeakley about the unpredictable weather. He shared a story about how, after enduring several brutally cold days with temperatures below zero, he went outside on a day that felt unusually warm. Thinking spring had arrived, he wore light clothing. In reality, the temperature was still below freezing—around the low 30s. Yet after those harsh days, it no longer felt cold to him.

I realized I had experienced something very similar. After days of –8-degree weather, I found myself wearing a thin jacket when the temperature rose to 23 degrees. Objectively, that is still cold. A few years ago in Los Angeles, when my family went sledding at Big Bear Mountain in winter, the temperature was around 30 degrees. We wore thick ski jackets, gloves, and hats. Yet now, after enduring extreme cold, 23 degrees feels warm to me.

This irony reveals something important: our experience of warmth is shaped by what we have endured before. After severe cold, even modest warmth feels comforting and refreshing.

In Scripture, when God prepares great people for great purposes, He often trains them in the wilderness. Moses was trained in the desert. So were Joseph, David, and Peter. Each of them had to endure long seasons of spiritual winter—

times of loneliness, rejection, hunger, waiting, and uncertainty. These were not meaningless hardships. They were preparations.

In the wilderness, they likely faced deep isolation. They may have felt forgotten by others and even questioned their own worth. In places without hope, they tasted despair day after day. Yet through those harsh seasons, something profound was formed within them. They learned true patience. They learned how to wait. Most importantly, they learned to rely not on people, not on themselves, but on God alone.

By the time they were called into God’s mission, they were ready. No hardship afterward could compare to the training they received in the wilderness. What once felt unbearable became the foundation for peace. Even in difficult circumstances, they were able to rest in God’s presence and experience His quiet assurance.

The season of Lent is a time like that—a season of wilderness training. It is a sacred invitation to endure with patience and to strengthen our faith as we walk through all that God has planned for us this year.

Throughout this season, let us be a little more patient.

Let us wait a little longer.

When we come out of this season, we will be stronger, more secure, and more deeply grounded in faith—ready for what lies ahead in the rest of the year.

A Heart Cleansed for God

Luke 22:42 “Father, if it is Your will, take this cup away from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but Yours be done.”

There is a quiet beauty in watching someone create something with care. One day, while browsing YouTube, I came across a cooking program featuring an elderly grandmother who made healthy bread. Her method was simple yet incredibly intentional. She juiced a variety of vegetables, mixed the fresh juices with wheat flour, and baked nutritious loaves.

But what struck me most was not her recipe, but her discipline.

Each time she finished juicing one vegetable, she completely disassembled the juicer, washed every part, and meticulously dried it with a hair dryer. Only then would she place the next vegetable in the juicer. She explained that even the smallest remnant from the previous ingredient could affect the purity, color, or flavor of the next. To preserve the distinct taste of each vegetable, the machine had to be perfectly clean—empty of anything that came before.

As I watched, a thought settled in my heart:

Prayer is like this.

Prayer is the intentional emptying out of what remains from yesterday—our burdens, our mistakes, our regrets, and our wounds. It is the cleansing of the heart so that nothing old interferes with what God desires to place within us today.

How often do we carry into prayer the unnoticed residue of the day before?

A careless word spoken to a family member…

An unintentional hurt inflicted on a friend…

The guilt of unfinished responsibilities…

The shame of our own inadequacy…

The sting of pride we wish we had resisted…

These things cling to us quietly, just as vegetable remnants cling inside a juicer. And unless we intentionally bring them before God, confess them, and release them, they cloud the purity of what God desires to speak.

In prayer, we wash them away.

In prayer, we empty ourselves.

In prayer, we prepare our hearts to receive.

Prayer is not merely a moment of asking God for blessings or help. It is also a sacred pause—a spiritual cleansing—where we create space for God’s will to be known and welcomed. Only a heart emptied of yesterday can fully receive the grace God offers today

So today, even briefly, I choose to pause.

This simple act—this cleansing of the soul—

This is prayer.