In Search of an East Asian Christianity

Reclaiming an East Asian pentecostalism

When I was 25, my Korean American theology tutor recommended that for my essay on the baptism of the Holy Spirit (aka Spirit-baptism) I dive into the works of prominent Pentecostal theologians Gordon Fee and Amos Yong.

Yong! An Asian? An Asian!

This was the first time it’d ever been put on my radar that there were Asian theologians working today. I’d never thought about it before. Why had I not thought about it before?! Well, I was new to theological studies, and prescribed reading was dominated by white western men; so was most of my personal devotional reading (think popular Christian books/authors).¹ I eagerly ordered Yong’s 2005 book The Spirit Poured Out on All Flesh: Pentecostalism and the Possibility of Global Theology, and it took only the introduction for me to realise – oh my goodness, this is it. I think I might be pentecostal.

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Having come from a conservative evangelical/fundamentalist background and then subsequently thrust into a pentecostal/charismatic spirituality at the age of 20, I'd never subscribed to a particular denomination before. (Growing up in Japan where Christians are far and few in-between – 1% of the population – there really isn’t the luxury to divide and conquer.) But I wanted to delve deeper into Pentecostalism which I knew considered my extensive supernatural experiences to be not just acceptable but desirable, and thus I thought might be able to provide greater understanding.

Yong, who is Malaysian Chinese American, first expounds the history of the pentecostal/charismatic movements; and the more I read about the beliefs and values of pentecostalism, the more I realised they aligned with my own beliefs and values. And it all hinged upon this radical phrase: the Spirit poured out on all flesh.²

God’s Spirit – power and presence – could be and should be poured out on every single willing human being. There was direct access; there were no gatekeepers. Anyone, and everyone, had a gift to use, part to play, contribution to make; everyone had a dignity to receive, authority to wield, voice to be heard. This included especially those traditionally marginalised and oppressed. Yong was advocating a global pentecostalism that was postmodern, postpatriarchal, postcolonial, posthierarchical, post-Cartesian, post-western/European (p. 20). It was the most holistic and egalitarian form of Christianity I’d ever encountered, especially in contrast to my fundamentalist upbringing. It was revolutionary.

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I was also struck by Yong’s case for applying a pentecostal theology to the unity of world cultures, as well as to engage in interfaith dialogue with other religions. I felt slightly unsettled – as if evangelical/fundamentalist Big Brother was watching over my shoulder – and could see how that could be controversial; but simultaneously I appreciated his challenge to consider that if God is omnipresent, then God’s Spirit is active even in and through other religions.³ This was a far cry from the demonising of non-western and non-Christian cultures/religions I’d grown up with.

Yong’s book changed my life’s trajectory.⁴ This was the beginning of a significant paradigm shift. It helped me not just to open my eyes, but also to gain a robust theoretical foundation and framework to better understand my faith and experiences. It also allowed me to situate myself within a specific tradition/movement which aligned best with my values and convictions. And it made me want to read more East Asian theologians.

Note: I don’t affiliate myself with the Pentecostal denomination. Instead, my faith expression can be described as pentecostal (with lower-case ‘p’) and/or charismatic.⁵ I don’t subscribe to a classical form of Pentecostalism which requires Spirit-baptism with speaking in tongues. I’m much less rigid and stringent, much more loose and fluid – though still prioritising the work and gifts of the Holy Spirit – but that’s no surprise due to my predilection for being in the grey.

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Azusa Street Group Photo (Wikimedia Commons)

The expression and manifestation of my faith best fits within the framework of pentecostalism and the phenomenological categories/explanations it provides. Tongues, prophecy, healing, signs and wonders have all been part of my dynamic and experiential spirituality; and the pentecostal ethos aligns with my values of empowering the marginalised and oppressed. The more I learnt about Pentecostalism’s 1906 origins at the Azusa Street Revival, the more I realised just how multiethnic and multicultural the tradition has always meant to be – it was a thoroughly and radically egalitarian movement right from the start, breaking down barriers of race, gender, wealth, education, church affiliation, etc.⁶

By mid-May 1906, anywhere from 300 to 1,500 people would attempt to fit into the building. […] People from a diversity of backgrounds came together to worship: men, women, children, Black, White, Asian, Native American, immigrants, rich, poor, illiterate, and educated. […] The intermingling of races and the group's encouragement of women in leadership was remarkable, as 1906 was the height of the "Jim Crow" era of racial segregation, and fourteen years prior to women receiving suffrage in the United States. (Wikipedia; italics mine)

The only thing was: the pentecostalism I’d been weaned on was squarely within a white western paradigm. As much as I’m indebted to it in so many ways, it also had a tendency to embody a rather black-and-white approach that at times simplistically demonised Japanese and other non-western cultures (as I’ve explained before). Yet Yong had shown me that pentecostalism was compatible with my East Asianness. I didn’t want to throw away pentecostalism as a whole just because I only knew a western form of it. Its fundamentals still made sense to me.

I wanted to discover and reclaim an East Asian form of pentecostalism that enabled me to champion the theological values of egalitarianism and empowerment of the marginalised and oppressed, the theological characteristics of a belief in the spirit world and the importance of spiritual experiences AND the theological attitude of curiosity and respect – not denigration or condescension – towards East Asian cultures. I wanted to share about my powerful, profound and poignant spiritual experiences with others without the stifling nature of a western-induced stigma. I wanted my faith to align with my cultural/ethnic heritage for greater integrity and authenticity.

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Imagine my delight when I discovered pentecostal forms of Christianity had sprung up organically in Asia distinct from the West!⁷ Wonsuk Ma ‘challenge[s] the notion that Pentecostalism in Asia is a transplanted version of the pentecostal religion “made in the U.S.A.”’ – for example, he points out that although Mary Rumsey was the first western Pentecostal missionary to Korea in 1928, the 1907 Pyongyang Revival is considered by many scholars to be the beginning of the Korean pentecostal movement (aka ‘Holy Spirit Movement’) which was never denominational until the missionaries' arrival.⁸ In other places like India, there occurred a 1905–07 revival at a girls' dorm in Mukti Mission run by Pandita Ramabai – which was unrelated and even preceded the Azusa Street Revival.⁹ Hwa Yung makes a straightforward case for the development of said indigenous movements: many Asian Christians ‘had simply read the bible from within their own cultures and worldviews, and found the supernatural in the bible repeated in their own ministries’.¹⁰

This was so empowering. I didn’t need to fully embrace a white and western (North American) pentecostalism – that wasn’t my only option. The Spirit was being poured out on all flesh, independent of the West. I was tapping into and connecting myself to a heritage whose spiritual roots didn’t always have to be traced back to that one ‘singular’ revival moment at Azusa in the States; I could just look much closer to home.

A quick global survey shows that there are 500–700 million pentecostals around the world – 1 in 4 Christians (2 in 3 Protestants) identify as pentecostal/charismatic. It’s no surprise that so many people in so many different cultures are drawn to this form of Christianity that emphasises egalitarianism, empowerment and the ethereal. It’s emboldening to witness those in Majority World cultures attempt to be faithful to the Bible and faithful to their context; attempt to be realistic about life’s struggles and sufferings and hopeful about present and future restoration and redemption.

Let me end with a quote from Yong that demonstrates the need for pentecostal theology to never be simply theoretical but always practical to be globally relevant:

Let me put it this way: if in the twenty-first century we are looking for a rigidly defined theological methodology that will enable us to engage culture without getting our gospel hands dirty, then we may as well quit now. No such approach is available because gospel and culture are not two separate things. Rather, the gospel always comes in cultural dress. Even Jesus came as a first-century male Jewish carpenter. This leads to the incarnational principle whereby God redeems, at least potentially, all that is taken up historically in the life of Christ. Therefore we proceed best in our time if our theologies are multiperspectival, multidisciplinary, and multicultural. Multiperspectivalism requires taking seriously the insight of all voices, especially those previously marginalized from the theological conversation—for example, women, the poor, the differently abled or disabled, perhaps even the heretics! Multidisciplinarity requires taking seriously the insights of the wider range of human learning, especially those in the hard and soft sciences. And multiculturalism requires that we take seriously the insights of the various ethnic and cultural groups and their experiences. (pp. 239–40; italics mine)

Pentecostalism is just one form of an entirely possible and legitimate East Asian Christianity. There are no doubt other East Asian Christianities one can discover and claim (or reclaim if your only reference points are western) – and thankfully there’s been an explosive burgeoning of wonderful theological work coming from the Majority World to help with that. But the aim is not just to empower ethnic minorities themselves; it’s also for westerners to learn from their global siblings. As for me, I’m just delighted that I’ve found a particular form of faith and theology that allows me to be wholly Christian and wholly myself; to unabashedly embrace Jesus and my cultural/ethnic heritage. There’s no need to compromise and fully assimilate into a western mould. The Spirit was and is moving in every part of the world.

1. This was around the time I’d begun proactively diversifying my own personal reading (e.g. fiction, non-fiction) and deliberately reading more women and non-white authors, so I’d like to think it would have been an inevitable outcome. But I’m still thankful to my tutor for being the instigator.

2. This was uttered by the prophet Joel in chapter 2, verse 28; and later quoted by the apostle Peter at Pentecost in Jerusalem as recorded in Acts 2.17.

3. Yong further presents an interesting exegesis of the parable of the Good Samaritan to argue for more compassionate attitudes towards others who might be considered ‘cultic’ or ‘irreligious’ or ‘demonic’ (pp. 241–44).

4. Amos Yong is Dean of the School of Mission and Theology, and Professor of Theology and Mission at Fuller Seminary. He’s also arguably the world’s most prolific and influential contemporary Pentecostal theologian. Honestly: look at his CV. He’s written extensively about pneumatology, interreligious dialogue, theology of disability, political theology, dialogue between science and religion, etc. It was only later when I discovered pentecostals are often criticised for their weak theology due to their tendency to overly emphasise experience (e.g. anti-intellectualism). But Yong completely refutes and subverts this by taking seriously spiritual experiences and doing serious theological work, serving as an exemplar of how to excel in both theory and praxis. And I completely credit him for kick-starting me on my own theological journey.

5. I follow Yong’s use of capitalised ‘Pentecostal(ism)’ to refer to the classical expression, and uncapitalised ‘pentecostal(ism)’ to refer broadly and inclusively to the movement(s) in general (pp. 18–19). Also: In academic literature ‘pentecostal/charismatic’ is often used as an umbrella term for Pentecostal and Charismatic Christianity.

6. Of course, in every movement there are always corrupt and power-hungry leaders with egos too big for their own (and others’) good – there’s a good reason why the modern term ‘charisma/charismatic’ has an etymological link with the ‘charismatic’ movements (both stem from the Greek word χαρίσ or ‘charis’). But it doesn’t mean the actual principles of the movement are bad or irredeemable.

7. It’s not lost on me that the original Pentecost, not to mention Christianity itself, has its origins in (West) Asia.

8. Wonsuk Ma, ‘Asian Pentecostalism in Context: A Challenging Portrait’, in The Cambridge Companion to Pentecostalism, ed. by Cecil M. Robeck, Jr and Amos Yong (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), pp. 152–72, at pp. 152–53.

9. Allan H. Anderson, ‘Pentecostalism in East Asia: Indigenous Oriental Christianity?’, PNEUMA: The Journal of the Society for Pentecostal Studies, 22 (2000): 115–32, at p. 115.

10. Hwa Yung, Mangoes or Bananas?: The Quest for an Authentic Asian Christian Theology, 2nd edn (Oxford: Regnum Books International, 2014), p. 58.