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The Doors Aren’t Locked from the Outside: My Thoughts on Universalism

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  I see my loved ones becoming universalists one after another. Universalism is one of those doctrines that keeps coming back around, partly because it offers a kind of moral relief. The idea is that in the end, God will save everyone, believers and non-believers alike, because His love will not allow anyone to be lost forever. I understand the impulse. I am tempted by it. If you care about God’s goodness, if you’ve sat with the brutal realities of human suffering and human blindness, it is not hard to see why many would want this so much to be true. But when I try to approach this by turning to the Scripture and focusing on its narrative logic, I keep running into a different theme. The Bible does not merely portray sin as a mistake that eventually gets corrected. It portrays sin as a posture: a self-exalting refusal to worship God. And it portrays judgment, often, as God confirming what a person has chosen to become. In C.S. Lewis’s book The Problem of Pain he wrote, “the doors ...
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Terrible Song, But Rejoicing Anyway?

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  I went to church. The worship leader smiled and said, “Today we’ll teach you a new song!” Here we go again. “HALLE!” A pause. “LUJAH!” What a terrible song. Then the song continued as a remix of Amazing Grace . Now it felt insulting. Are we, as Christians, supposed to enjoy a worship service no matter what? The people in the front row were just jamming it out. Was that what I was supposed to do? We hear about Christians with abundant joy in their hearts and on their faces, made possible by their strong faith in Christ. Is that what this is about – to be a strong believer is to rejoice in any worship song, Philippians 1:18 style? I think it’s objectively true that some songs are “better” than others. To go one step further, some genres are more suitable for certain purposes than others. The most popular song at a rave is probably not going to be well received at a funeral. At what point do we decide that a worship song is “not good enough”? Langu...
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Superman, Crashed and Burned

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  For generations, Superman stood as the cultural blueprint for the ideal man. He embodied strength paired with restraint, courage guided by conscience, confidence anchored in humility. He was the man who could lift mountains yet chose gentleness, who could rule the world yet chose to serve it. Boys looked up to him not just for his powers, but for his virtues, a model of what a man could aspire to be at his best. But that man is no more. The new Superman (2025) movie opens with a stunning reversal of everything he once represented. The first image we see is not steadiness or strength but helplessness: Superman, bloodied and defeated, sprawled face-down in the snow, crying out for help. His dog, Krypto, arrives, not as a loyal companion, but as a chaotic, disobedient force that bounces on his injured body, worsening his wounds, then drags him for miles across the frozen ground like a captive in an old Western. Our first encounter with this new Superman is not inspiration: it i...
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How "Two and a Half Men" Damaged Marriage

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  When people talk about Two and a Half Men , they usually describe it as lighthearted fun, a classic sitcom built on raunchy jokes, exaggerated characters, and over-the-top scenarios. But underneath all the easy laughs, the show quietly delivers a message about marriage that is far darker and more corrosive than most viewers ever acknowledge. And I think that message has done real harm. The problem isn’t that the writers set out to attack marriage, or that the show is making some philosophical argument. Intent doesn’t matter. Impact does. And the impact is plain: the show repeatedly portrays marriage as a terrible deal for men, something naïve men fall into and pay for the rest of their lives. For 12 seasons, Alan Harper is the audience’s case study in marital misery. His divorce isn’t just a plot point; it becomes the defining feature of his entire life. He is chronically broke, paying alimony, paying child support, losing his home, and losing his dignity. And every time he tries...
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I Take God for Granted, Because I Can

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  I take God for granted Because I can I’ve done no deed No righteous plan To deserve Him To earn His gaze Not the slightest Totally depraved Yet still He saves With His irresistible grace He takes me in all the same He loves me for who I am He loves me despite my sinful shame. I take nothing for granted Not my family, nor friends I hold Not my money, nor things, Not even myself, truth be told For I am not my own. Yet I take God for granted still Unconditional: this election For I can’t choose what bends my will As I am nothing but His sheep As I am nothing but His son. So I take God for granted Along with His comfort, His unbinding love, And His boundless mercy Forever preserved And granted to me.
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Our Tooth Fairy Tale

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  When my son was six years old, he lost his very first tooth. He was so excited that his tooth finally came off after so long. He carefully put the tooth in a Ziploc bag and placed it under his pillow when he went to bed that night. I waited for a few hours to make sure that the boy was deep in sleep. Then my wife and I sneaked in. Then I searched for the Ziploc bag under his pillow. Then I placed a dollar bill there. My son was still sound asleep. Mission accomplished. We could not breathe. The next morning, my son excitedly showed us his one dollar bill from the tooth fairy. “The tooth fairy must be very tiny!”, he said. “She left me one dollar and I could not tell!” My son also bragged about it at school. Then his classmate Boden said: - That’s nothing! My sister got TEN dollars for her tooth!
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Indians are Now Turkeys

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  When I was a baby in Vietnam, my father would hold me and sing me a song he found in the English book. The song went like this: One little, two little, three little Indians Four little, five little, six little Indians Seven little, eight little, nine little Indians Ten little Indian boys! A few decades later, now I lived in the U.S. My son came home from kindergarten and taught me a song he had learned in his class for the upcoming Thanksgiving. It went like this: One little, two little, three little turkeys Four little, five little, six little turkeys Seven little, eight little, nine little turkeys Ten little baby turkeys! No, I am aware that singing about “little Indians” has become somehow offensive and therefore unacceptable. So now we sing about turkeys.  But what if the people from Turkey also get offended?
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