I carefully considered whether or not I should write this post because I try my best to shy away from throwing my support behind specific individuals. How many times have I supported a person or even a group, famous and pleb alike, only to find out disappointing or downright awful things about them later on? I do not want to lead you, my dear reader, into supporting the wrong person or cause.
However, throughout my years of blogging, more than one person have asked me for mental health and/or spiritual resources, so I do try my best to talk about helpful resources when I come across them. Those of you who follow me on my Insta may have seen me reposting clips from Johnny Chang’s channel. That’s because his material has been so helpful to me and my husband, Albert, and has literally been an answer to prayer. So, I wanted to share on my blog, too, what I’ve learned from listening to him in case anything proves useful to you as well.
A lot of Asian American Christians in California tend to know each other somehow, so I first want to clarify that yes, I am a Christian, but no, I do not know Johnny or anyone on his team. Rest assured that everything I’m about to write comes from hours of doing my own research and listening closely. Full disclaimer, too, that I only found out about Johnny a month or so ago, so please take everything I’m about to say about him with a grain of salt. Whoever and whatever Johnny is, though, I am one hundred percent confident that the following lessons I’ve learned are solid and true.
Long story short, I found out about Johnny because my algorithm kept pestering me to watch an interview he did with the super popular Youtube channel, Soft White Underbelly. I avoided watching the interview for months, if not years, because I’d previously gone on a Soft White Underbelly binge and decided afterward that I didn’t want to watch so much of that channel after all. My binge had consisted of a series of interviews with an active pimp, so when I saw Johnny’s video popping up, I immediately thought, “Oh, great. Now Youtube thinks I want to watch an Asian pimp because it knows I’m Asian. No more pimps, Asian or otherwise!”
I continued ignoring and hiding the video online, and meanwhile offline, my husband and I continued to search and pray for more spiritual resources and mentors. It’s been difficult, you guys. Even without all the ups and downs I’ve shared with ya’ll about our IVF journey, navigating how to heal the scars of trauma from my childhood and beyond has been taxing on both of us throughout our 7+ years of marriage. We’ve always tried our best, but in recent years, we’ve realized more and more that we just can’t navigate everything we need to on our own. We needed someone who could provide trauma-based counseling and meet us where we’re at. I felt like we’d tried everything we could, but none of it was what we really needed. It all felt so hopeless. Sure, my trauma issues were slowly getting better thanks to pure grunt work and elbow grease. But were we really meant to figure out everything on our own?
This isn’t to say that we didn’t have people who cared for us. I think we only lasted this long because we did have loving friends who tried their best to make time for us, pray for us, and help out in whatever practical ways they could. But at the end of the day, we also needed someone who understood both trauma and God on a deep and personal level and could speak about both fluently.
Well, it turns out the video I’d been ignoring for so long had actually been the resource we’d been praying for. Go figure.
I finally gave in and clicked on the video NOT because I had some superstitious tingling or even because I was bored. The video just wouldn’t leave me alone! So I finally clicked, hoping it would leave me be if I simply watched it and got it over with.
The first thing that struck me when I finally did start watching was that I’d been wrong this whole time: he wasn’t a pimp! He was an ex gangbanger. And as he shared his story, I was surprised to find myself relating to many parts of his life despite the fact I’d never been part of the dark underworld of gangbanging and prison life that he’d survived.
Like him, I’m an Asian American millennial born and raised in Southern California. I also come from a broken and broke family and saw a lot of things I shouldn’t have seen as a kid. I also had resented the brokenness of my family and the father who had caused that brokenness. I turned to the wrong things in search of emotional comfort, some kind of meaning, some kind of way out of my awful, uncontrollable circumstances. I faced a lot of betrayal and disillusionment. Anger and my wits were the tools I turned to in order to survive because they were all I had. I managed to achieve a lot of success in life despite my difficult circumstances, but even as I ticked off one goal after another, I could never really understand why the hell I was even alive to begin with, the point of it all. Still, I kept running in the race of life because that was all I knew. What more could I do except to keep on surviving?
As the video continued, I started to notice something more too. Johnny started “weaving in” bits of hope into his story, as Lecrae mentions in his interview with Johnny. And like Lecrae, my ears started to perk, and I thought, “Hold up a minute. Is this guy … a Christian? Wait, is he legit?”
I was afraid to assume anything. After all, how many times have I come across a so-called Christian on the internet or real life only to find out that they believe in all sorts of non-Christian things and just call themselves a Christian for whatever arbitrary reason.
By the end of the interview, though, I was fairly certain that Johnny was an honest Christian. There was nothing about anything he’d said that I could really point at and call “blasphemous.” But I still wanted to make sure. I didn’t want to be too hopeful. It’s not every day you come across as miraculous of a story as a full-bred gangbanger from LA becoming a prison minister who now knows peace and soundness of mind thanks to Jesus Christ. Too good to be true? Probably. Plus, he didn’t talk only about his sinfulness or condemn himself repeatedly throughout the video, and he kept emphasizing stuff like hope and joy and how we’re holy and redeemed. Holy and redeemed? Even though we’re sinners? Was he part of a cult? Or was he one of those emotional, “I let Jesus flutter into my heart” people? And, as it turns out, he charges for Bible study and sells merch. Was he one of those greedy, Pharisaical crazies who was using internet fame to steal a quick buck out of emotionally vulnerable people? Very possible.
I was tempted to believe the worst as I believe that, in general, it’s likelier to come across a bad egg than a good one in life, and a Christian who actually knows the walk, talks the talk, and tries to walk the walk is, unfortunately, rare. But how on earth could an ex gangbanger say such things about peace, know the things that he talked about, or even walk away from the world of gangbanging and drug dealing - the only world he’d ever known - if God Himself wasn’t involved somehow? I may never had entered the underworld of society myself, but I’ve been poor enough and gone through dark enough circumstances to have at least some exposure to it, and I knew people who strayed down incredibly dark paths at a very young age. Plus, Soft White Underbelly knows its stuff and wouldn’t invite a fake gangbanger onto its platform. Johnny was, for sure, an ex gangbanger. Of that, I had no doubt. And it wasn’t hard to guess some of the heinous things he’d chosen to do in life. There was just no way that he, being the kind of criminal he was, could think and say the things he did in that interview if there wasn’t something miraculous at work.
And so, down the related-content wormhole I went.
I learned that he’d been roofied and molested as a pre-teen. I learned about some of the things he’d done and regretted. Some of the things he’d seen. His time in prison. His struggles once he got out. And all of it, as horrible as it was, was still a story of hope. Not because Johnny himself is some kind of great, wonderful, or superhuman person, but because it became so clear that Johnny was still alive and breathing because God had never forgotten him.
Johnny’s mother was powerless and submissive to his alcoholic father, who abused the whole family and had even tried to abort Johnny while he was still in the womb. His older brother turned to gangbanging as well, and they shared a distant relationship as they went down their own paths for survival and meaning. He turned to the streets for comfort, and when he messed up, society threw him into the hell hole that is prison, told him he’s a hopeless case, and threw away the key. When he finally got out, friends only cared so much, and he kept digging himself deeper into the street life because he was too lost and afraid to turn elsewhere, even though he knew deep down that it would simply lead to more violence and his own early death.
But it was only after his mother brought him to church and a pastor shared the good news that Jesus loved him and wanted to bless him if he would only accept the gift of hope that Jesus wanted to give him, that Johnny was able to start seeing right from wrong, to get help from the right places, to think about more than just himself, to care about others, and to consider, just a little bit, his future and not simply his present or past.
Society, friends, brother, parents. No one truly cared about Johnny or remembered him in the ways that he needed. Even Johnny didn’t really care about Johnny as he tried to commit suicide and continued running his life into the ground. But his story so clearly shows that God cared and God remembered him, a ghetto little Asian American boy who had no safe home to return to and only knew a gang that wanted to use him. And despite all the horrible things this world is capable of and all the brokenness, God still reaches down and saves people from their impossible circumstances and even themselves.
I’ve been listening to Johnny’s podcasts regularly for weeks now. Albert and I are also part of his paid Bible studies and group counseling sessions, which, as it turns out, are more of a means to donate to Johnny’s ministry so that he can pump out all of his free content and still make a living.
I’ve unlearned then relearned so many things through all his resources, but one of the first things that hit me was: I’m righteous. I’m holy.
The first place I heard the exact phrase “I’m righteous. I’m holy” was in the podcast Johnny did with his older brother, who, as I mentioned, also was a gangbanger. When his brother shared about how, through Jesus who loves him, he is righteous and holy, I was actually very much put on edge. Wasn’t that blasphemous to say? Shouldn’t we be more preoccupied with how we’re dirty sinners? Wasn’t that the cornerstone on which our faith was built? Was it okay to dare to say that we are righteous and holy as if we weren’t sinners at all?
But as I kept listening to the podcast, I remembered the whole reason I’d become a Christian to begin with fifteen years ago. I became a Christian not because I was a dirty, useless sinner, but because Jesus loves me no matter what I’ve done, what I do, what I will do in the future. He has made me righteous. He had made me whole and holy. It’s okay to say, “I’m righteous. I’m holy.” Because God loves me. He sees me. He remembers me, even when I’m lost. He has redeemed me, even from myself.
How could I have forgotten that our faith is a message of love and hope and not a lesson in condemnation? Since when did I start listening to voices of condemnation, pastors, church elders, and congregation members from my past, who all told me I was somehow inadequate, that I had messed up, that I should focus on all the ways I was horrible instead of God, who tells me through the Bible, that he doesn’t care about any of that and simply wants to have a relationship with me? He has redeemed me. He has made me holy. I am righteous. I am holy.
I began to realize that Johnny’s right when he says that a lot of the time, we’re not thinking. We’re listening. When my thoughts start to condemn me, when I start thinking about how things are hopeless, when I fear, when my anxiety makes sense, I need to step back and remember that anxiety, fear, hopelessness, and condemnation are not from God. And if they’re not from God, it’s probably not a good idea to keep listening to them. It’s okay to simply disregard what is not from God and know that God loves me. I don’t have to listen to anything except His voice, and I can question whose voice I’m actually listening to.
I also learned that anger is a symptom of unprocessed trauma. Johnny’s podcast on anger was the first time I’d ever heard anyone, Christian or otherwise, break down the mechanics of anger so precisely and accurately. It was like I’d gone to years of therapy with him, and he was simply summarizing what he’d discovered about my anger issues. Combined with the habit of condemning myself and focusing on my sinfulness, I was stuck in a whirlpool of constantly getting angry then wondering why I couldn’t stop myself from getting so angry and doing stupid, angry things then getting even more angry because I felt so frustrated and hopeless.
Needless to say, this did not have the best impact on my and Albert’s marriage. There were so many times I’d be angry and not even know it. It just felt so normal, so familiar, and therefore, safe, yet so infuriating and hopeless because like a drug, it felt good and bad all at once. But now that I understand that my anger is a symptom of unprocessed trauma, I’m able to take a step back and think before I act or even feel fully. I think to myself, “Is this something that really is angering me? Or is this simply a symptom of trauma? Is this something I actually want to be angry about? Or is this something I can forgive, or something that I’m simply misunderstanding? What do I think? Not what do my feelings say. Not what does my past say. But me, now. Me, holy, redeemed, and loved infinitely by God Himself. What do I think, and what do I choose? Whose voice am I really listening to right now?”
It’s okay not to get angry. I don’t always have to protect my dignity with aggression as I did during the many years when I had to survive alone in a world that was bent on stripping away every shred of dignity I had even after it had taken everything else away. It’s okay to show kindness, humility, and patience instead of rage. The years of the past are over, and at least within my marriage, it’s okay to lay down my arms and simply love.
I’m not saying that I don’t have anger issues anymore, but changing my mindset in such a way has been such a gamechanger and an answer to prayer. Albert and I don’t argue as much anymore. We have more dialogues instead. I don’t feel so hateful toward him or others or even myself. I can see that I’m healing my wounds instead of fracturing our marriage one argument at a time, one episode of despair after another. It turns out that the cure to anger is hope.
I also realized that forgiveness is compassion. It’s okay to humanize a past enemy in order to move forward. I feel like as a society, we all cheer for people when they’re angry and up in arms about an injustice. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think anger alone is always a bad thing. Nor do I think it’s bad to be angry over genuine injustices. God is also a god of justice. But what society doesn’t care about is what that angry person is left with in their anger. So what if they’re all fired up and it feels good to them and it’s satisfying to watch? Does anyone even care how much pain they’re still in deep down? I think a lot of people would call victims of heinous crimes “crazy” or “weak” if such victims were to humanize their enemies and even forgive them. But is it really that bad and crazy to show compassion if that’s the medicine the victim needs to truly heal and move on with their lives? Of course, boundaries are always necessary, and forgiveness doesn’t mean that a victim has to go anywhere near an enemy ever again. But is it so weak and crazy to have compassion, to forgive?
I felt the truth of this the most when Johnny talked about the teenage girl who’d molested him. She’d had a fixation on him for whatever reason, and when he was a pre-teen, she’d roofied him, had him dragged behind a dumpster, then done whatever disgusting things she’d wanted. Johnny had looked tired and sad while talking about the whole traumatizing ordeal, and understandably so. But he’d also seemed sad that a girl that age had been capable of doing such a thing. He had clearly humanized her and even pitied her. I think that’s how he was able to let go of the past instead of losing himself to the bitterness of it. I can forgive others not because they deserve forgiveness or even asked for it. I am allowed to forgive for my own sake. I am allowed to take care of myself. It’s not a weakness.
There’s more, but I’ll stop here. Albert and I are incredibly grateful for Johnny and his team and the time, talent, and energy they are pouring into their ministry for the sole purpose of spreading hope. We continue to attend Johnny’s Bible studies and group counseling sessions every Saturday. His ministry isn’t exactly the conventional solution that we were envisioning while we prayed, but boy is it still an answer. And boy does it work. These days, I feel happier, safer, and whole as I remind myself without guilt that I am holy. I am redeemed. God brought Johnny out of impossible and terrible circumstances and strengthened him so that he could strengthen others. Looking at Johnny’s life, I remember and am grateful that God also brought me out of horrible circumstances and somehow brought me all the way to where I am now.
Trauma, anger, sorrow, the horrors of this world. They’re all real.
But God’s love does conquer all.