Yes, the time has finally arrived. The moment that handfuls of you have been waiting for. After a two-year hiatus, we pick up the story that began with Telling it to the Church (Part 1) and Telling it to the Church, Part 2.
Oh, my, how the times have changed; so much has happened since then.
Be forewarned: this installment will be different.
And rejoice, for today is your lucky day! You are the winner of Wonka’s Golden Ticket. Reach out your hand. With this V.I.P. pass, we’ll descend into belly of the beast, to the inner sanctum, that secretive world of UBF leadership that has never before seen the light of day.
And this time, I will be naming names. Yes, today you will hear things that I have not yet shared with anyone, except for my wife and perhaps our dog.
Why am I doing this? Because I want to. And because I read an inspiring message from Washington UBF. This part of the message stuck in my heart.
How should we carry out this ministry? Look at verse 2. “Rather, we have renounced secret and shameful ways; we do not use deception, nor do we distort the word of God. On the contrary, by setting forth the truth plainly we commend ourselves to everyone’s conscience in the sight of God.” The gospel ministry is not like the worldly business or political campaign. It is a non-profit ministry. There should be no shameful secret agenda, no distortion, and no deception. Honesty, transparency, purity, and straight talk are the backbone of the gospel ministry.
I couldn’t agree more. Nothing promotes the gospel like honesty, transparency, purity and straight talk. Sit back, relax, and enjoy.
‘Twas the middle of November, the week before Thanksgiving. From my perspective, morale in had fallen to be at an all time low, but the leaders didn’t seem to have a clue. What concerned me most was the lack of communication. In private, a few leaders were becoming a wee bit honest, dropping some lines that sounded sincere. But no one had a grip on what I saw happening all around. Paul Hong was cheerfully chirping about his chapter, with that fancy new building and all. But I knew from firsthand reports that not all was well in Toledo, and dark clouds were looming on the horizon. Jacob Lee was crowing about all that love they were feeling in Washington, how he was so buddy-buddy with the younger generation. But Sharon and I had been to the Harvest Festival a few weeks earlier. We had seen for ourselves how the young people in the audience (virtually all second gens, almost no natives in sight) were rolling their eyes. Many had snuck out of the lectures because they were bored or offended. The title of that Harvest Festival was “Empowering the Next Generation,” but the ones who enjoyed it were the oldest Korean missionaries. The program was designed to tell the elders’ stories, to affirm their values and life-choices. But once again, a report had gone up on the UBF website telling how wonderful that Harvest Festival was, how the next generation had been empowered and accepted their mission and true identity. In most of the chapters that I knew well, members couldn’t be honest with their leaders; there was no safe space for people to express what they truly thought and felt. Leaders and members who saw each other daily had entirely different perceptions of reality, as if they were living in parallel universes.
On my own, I had decided to contact more than fifty UBF members whom I believed I could trust. I had collected their answers to five open-ended questions about the state and trajectory of UBF. I synthesized my findings in this report. That project occupied two weeks of my life. I worked day and night to finish it quickly, because I wanted the report in the hands of UBF leaders before a senior staff retreat. Sharon can testify how hard I worked, even when it was probably a stupid thing to do at a time when I should have been taking care of my health, my career, my finances and my family.
Dear everyone: You can say whatever you like about why I did this. Call me proud, foolish, inexperienced, know-it-all, untrained, too big for my britches, full of typical Ivy League mentality, blah blah blah. Whatever negatives you may say about me, I can give you more. All of those things are absolutely true. Yes, I am the proudest of sinners. But with God as my witness, I say this to you now.
To the leaders of UBF: When I put together this report, I did it on my own time, of my own initiative, without getting paid, knowing that it would probably land me in trouble, yet I did it anyway because I loved you and because I cared about the future of our ministry. I did it because I imagined that, as pastors, you just might be interested in how you were perceived by your flock.
To the Americans who were/are in UBF: When I put together this report, I also did it for you, because I am one of you. I did it because I loved you and because I cared about the future of our ministry. I did it because I hoped that someday you would be allowed to become who you really are, the people that God created you to be, American disciples who live in the American context, free to break out of the hyper-Korean evangelical mold into which you had been so awkwardly forced.
To all the Korean-American second-gens: When I put together this report, I also did it for you. I was not one of you, but I loved you. I hoped to convey to your parents and your leaders some of the things that you wanted to express but could not say directly. I did it because I hoped that UBF could really become a unique multicultural community where the work of the Holy Spirit had broken down boundaries, where unity in diversity was not some farfetched goal but our daily common experience.
On that snowy day in November 2010, I drove up to Camp Wonderland, Wisconsin to attend the senior staff retreat. I had emailed my report to the senior staff members two days earlier, but had not yet received any replies. I shared a ride with a member of the senior staff, and the conversation was fascinating. He was frustrated with the way UBF had been going, sick and tired of all the power plays, petty politics, all the people who couldn’t be trusted. In that car, he opened up and shared two stories that I had never heard before.
The first story was about all the political maneuvering that took place during the first reform movement in America (1989-92). He said that Samuel Lee had come within a hair’s breadth of being ousted. At one point, even Paul Hong and Sarah Barry knew that Lee was out of control, and they tentatively agreed to side with the reformers. But when this man decided to stand with Lee, the tide turned back and some would-be reformers flipped. Paul Hong read the writing on the wall; he flipped back to support Lee, and was rewarded for his loyalty by being appointed director of Toledo after James Kim was forced out.
The second story he told was of his experiences with Samuel Lee. A member of this man’s chapter claimed that his Sunday messages were almost as good as the messages of Lee. When Lee heard about this, he became very upset. He demanded to see copies of this man’s Sunday messages. Those copies were returned to him, with every paragraph marked up with red ink, and the man was forced to make hundreds of corrections under the guise of “improving his English.” Those corrections were completely unnecessary, because the manuscripts had already been checked and edited by an English major from that chapter. Even worse, this man was ordered to come to the Chicago center for message training every Monday. Those trips were very costly, taxing his health, his finances, his family and his ministry. He said that those trips almost killed him. But for some reason, he decided to do it anyway. Finally, he spoke of one American shepherd who stood at Samuel Lee’s side in Chicago, supervising and carrying out this abusive training. Years later, he asked that American shepherd, “Why did you do that to me? Didn’t your conscience bother you?” The American said nothing; he shrugged his shoulders and smiled. That American is still in a place of leadership and, as far as I know, has no intention of ever allowing these issues of abuse to be freely discussed or admitted.
As he told these tales, I was taken aback. The stories themselves were not surprising; I had seen the harsh training since I first came to UBF, and I vaguely knew of the political wrangling in the late 80’s and early 90’s which ousted some chapter directors. What surprised me was his willingness to tell me straight up. As I listened to the stories, I began to wonder: Are we on the verge of something? Are we reaching a tipping point where leaders will finally open their mouths and speak of those dark things that must never be spoken?
If anyone is interested in finding out what happened during the reform movement of 1989-92, I suggest you go and visit this man. Take him out to dinner, order a bottle of wine, and he just might be willing to tell you everything. Five years ago, he couldn’t care less about the reputation of UBF, and as far as I know, that hasn’t changed.
My memories of that Wisconsin retreat are a bit hazy, but I will share what I can recall.
When I saw the schedule for the retreat, I became upset, because it was not going to be a retreat at all. Little time had been set aside for open group discussion. The program was filled with Bible study, business items and committee reports. Still I hoped and prayed that our time would be productive.
The group Bible study was led by Sarah Barry, and the passage was from 2 Chronicles 20. The people of Judah were facing a national crisis. A vast, three-nation army approached from the desert, ready to attack at any moment. King Jehoshaphat had no idea what to do. He called a national assembly, and standing there before the men, women and children of Judah, he cried out to the Lord: “We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.”
As we studied this passage, I was stunned. Kings are not accustomed to showing ignorance or weakness. Even if they have no clue what they are doing, they want to project an air of strength and confidence, so that their followers stay with them and do not lose heart. Indeed, that was the leadership stance I was given by UBF: remain strong, keep choongshim, never stop marching, and when you are clueless, pretend that everything is going according to plan. That’s what I thought it meant to “have faith.” But in this passage, the top leader made himself vulnerable. He became a sitting duck, an easy target for a political or military coup. But when he stood in vulnerability before his nation, and together they all cried out to God, the Lord’s answer came through a prophet, and their deliverance that day was truly miraculous.
I found this passage so appropriate, the perfect metaphor for what was happening in UBF. Problems were mounting, morale was low, strength had run out, and the leaders had no clue. During that Bible study, I remember asking two questions.
My first question was, “What would it look like for the leaders of a Christian organization to actually do what Jehoshaphat did? What if we admitted to ourselves and our members that we have no good plans or answers for our problems? What if we all stood together helplessly before the Lord with our eyes firmly fixed on him, so that we might be open to his answers and his deliverance?”
When I asked that question, the room became still. I waited and got no response.
My second question came a bit later, and it was something like this. “One of the big items on our agenda is to decide what to do at the national staff conference three months from now. As of today, none of us has a plan. There are some big problems in our ministry. Our chapter directors are tired, morale is low, and many of you have been saying that we are burned out. I hope you all read that report I sent to you. Those issues are real; I didn’t make them up. Is it an accident that we are studying this passage today? Or might God be speaking to us through his word, asking us to do something courageous that we have never done before – to openly admit to our chapter directors that have no answers, and to stand together with them as equals before the Lord, repenting together and seeking direction and help from God alone?”
Once again, the room was silent. I knew that my question would make some uncomfortable, but I never imagined they wouldn’t even acknowledge the question.
The Bible study moved on.
That moment was for me a real eye opener. For a long time, I had known that UBF leaders were deeply flawed. But even in the worst of times, I had always sensed in them a stance of openness toward Scripture, a desire to treat the Bible as the word of God being spoken to them, and a willingness to obey what they were hearing. But at that moment, I felt a strange physical sensation. It was as though we had suddenly swung around on a hinge. Instead of looking into the face of God intending to do what he was asking, we now seemed turned away with our backs to the Lord, ignoring his voice and deliberately walking away. That was a feeling that I will never forget. It’s a feeling that I never want to feel again.
Little time was reserved for open discussion. At one point, we were able to talk for maybe an hour or so. I have a few memories of what went on. I remember Jim Rabchuk telling the story of how he had gotten burned out. The demands that UBF had placed on him (and many related demands that he had placed on himself) became overwhelming, and he was learning the necessity of saying “No.”
Jim also began to talk about some of the problems in his ministry.
As he was talking, he was interrupted by Jacob Lee. Jacob said (my paraphrase, but I believe it is accurate): “We can’t keep talking about all these problems. Of course, there are problems, we always have problems. We talk and talk and talk and there is never any solution. We cannot solve all our problems. We must move on from these problems and do the work of God.”
Jim got visibly upset. He shot back, “Missionary Jacob, that is ridiculous!”
I had never seen an American openly confront an older missionary like that, certainly not in the presence of other leaders. I was shocked, and yet I felt strangely comforted. “Good for him,” I thought. “Good. for. him.”
And James H. Kim made a passionate speech about spiritual disciplines. He had begun to read Peter Scazzero’s books on spiritual formation, and was learning the importance of contemplative prayer. He said (again a paraphrase): “Our American staff shepherds are all burned out. They have no time to think, no time to recharge. They are just doing, doing, doing every day like machines. That is not a Christian life. That is not the way to be a leader. Leaders must reflect, must stay in the presence of God. Leaders should meditate with times of deep contemplation!”
I was ready to stand up and applaud.
John Jun didn’t like what he was hearing. He yelled, “Time over! Time over! Time for lunch!”
Then James H. Kim shouted over him: “Each one of our staff shepherds MUST spend THREE HOURS EVERY DAY in quiet study and contemplation!”
My heart sank like a stone. That was the last thing our burned-out staff needed to hear. Three hours a day? I couldn’t contain myself, so I blurted: “Missionary James, you said ‘three hours a day.’ Is that instead of some things they are currently doing, or in addition to everything they already do?”
The discussion was over. It was time for lunch.
Here are a few more things I remember from that staff retreat.
After that exchange with James H. Kim, John Jun started to clamp down. At our next meeting, he brought out a call bell, one of those metal contraptions you see on the front desk of a hotel. When he thought someone was talking too much – which was after about 60 or 90 seconds – he would ring the bell and say, “Time over! Time over!” As he did this, some of the missionaries laughed. To me, this was not a laughing matter. We desperately needed to get real about things that truly mattered, and I didn’t care how long it took. But the funny thing is, at that time I didn’t get upset about the bell. I had lived in UBF-land so long that I was accustomed to that kind of treatment. Months later, when I told some friends what John Jun had done, their jaws dropped. They couldn’t believe that the leader of a Christian organization would do that in a room full of adults, shutting people up by ringing a bell. In retrospect, I see that this was outrageous. But at the time, it felt almost normal.
The so-called retreat shifted into all-business mode. Ron Ward discussed plans for a new CME (Continuing Missionary Education) institute. That 30-minute presentation was the longest three hours of my life. It droned on and on and on. Then Jacob Lee laid out his vision for a UBF school for the education of children, teaching them all subjects (reading, writing, math, etc.) from a standpoint of mission, so that we could pass on UBF core values to the next generation. Of course, we all knew what was really happening: these leaders were angling for pots of money from the UBF treasury to fund their pet projects. To say we were bored would be an understatement. The next item was conference planning. Mark Vucekovich talked about the 2013 International Summer Bible Conference, and it was decided that we would hold it at IUP. When Mark asked questions, he got essentially no response. My strength had been sapped, and I sensed that others were feeling the same way. (Later, some confirmed to me that, yes, they were bored out of their skulls.)
The last major item on the agenda was the North American Staff Conference to be held three months later. No plans had made, no theme was proposed. I spoke up and said something like this: “In light of what we learned from our group Bible study, why don’t we do what Jehoshaphat did, admitting that we really don’t know what we are doing, and stand together in prayer before the Lord to seek help and renewal for our ministry.”
My suggestion wasn’t acknowledged. They fidgeted for a brief moment and then moved on.
After hearing complaints that we needed to talk, John Jun made a small concession. He allowed everyone in the room to speak in turn, saying whatever was on their minds, within a limit of two minutes. Thankfully, he did not ring his bell. I cannot recall anyone’s remarks, except for the elder Daniel Yang, who said something like this: “My main concern is that we have no spirit. In the old days we had great spirit, because we used to study the Bible every day, 365 days a year, on Christmas, on New Year, no exception. It is my opinion that we must go back to intensive Bible study 365 days a year, so that our spirit may be revived. You might think differently, but that is my opinion.”
When my turn came, this is what I said. This is an exact quote. I wrote it down so I wouldn’t stumble over my words, and I saved it on my computer.
As I reflect back upon my life, I see five people who helped to shape my Christian faith. First, my mother, who raised me and my twelve siblings by faith in God alone. Second, a Catholic priest who befriended me and prayed for me during my freshman year at MIT; it was through his influence that I read a Christian book and committed my life to Christ. Third, Mother Barry, from whom I learned to respect and interact with Scripture. Fourth, John Armstrong, whose writings deeply challenged my sectarianism and opened my mind and heart to interact with the Body of Christ beyond UBF. Fifth, my wife, who has taught me countless things that other people could not; through her I am experiencing the love of God in new and wonderful ways.
Please forgive me, but I cannot identify Dr. Lee as my spiritual father, nor can I see myself as the fruit of UBF. I have drawn much spiritual nourishment from UBF, but I would not be the person I am today without those other influences. This is why I will never be just a UBF man, and why I cannot get excited about dedicating the rest of my life to promoting UBF-specific values. To do so would deny my roots and my heritage.
In feeling this way, I am not alone. America was a Christian nation long before UBF missionaries arrived, and a “typical” North American person in UBF will have significant spiritual influences in his or her life outside of UBF. To strongly press the principles of UBF upon us, to force us to claim that as our spiritual heritage, is to divide us from ourselves and from one another.
On the last day of the retreat, three senior staff members excused themselves and left early, saying that they needed to get to the airport. Later I learned that at least one of them deliberately changed to an earlier flight, because he concluded the retreat was a waste of time.
And now, we turn to the question that prompted this article.
What happened after I wrote that report?
Brian guessed this:
I suppose the ubf echelon kicked you out of the Well, and marginalized you in various ways…but I will let you tell the story.
Yes, that did happen eventually, but those events unfolded over a couple of years.
Ben said this:
My short guess is that you were called aside, basically reprimanded, told to “keep you place,” “mind your own business,” and basically asked, “who the heck do you think you are?” Well, probably not in those exact words.
Something like that sort of happened. At the beginning of the retreat, John Jun was not aware of my report. The guy who managed his email hadn’t told him about it. At the retreat, someone urged Jun to look at my report, and that first night, he did. The next day, just as we were heading to lunch, he poked me on the arm and said, “A leader should be humble! A leader should be humble!”
I took one step backward so that he could no longer touch me, looked him in the eye and said, “A leader should be honest.”
He replied, “Okay,” and then we went to lunch.
Reactions from the senior staff were muted. A couple of them said, “Thank you for your report,” and that was it. During the next week, I got feedback from a few more.
Brian’s and Ben’s answers aren’t wrong, but no one nailed it.
The answer to “What happened?” is so predictable, so typical of happenings in UBF-land, that when you hear it, you’ll slap yourself and say, “Duh!”
So obvious that it’s invisible, like that nose in front of your face.
This is what happened after that report.
(Drum roll, please.)
Joe Schafer humbled himself.
That’s right. I did exactly as UBF trained me to do. I sucked it up. I decided that once again, I needed to trust my leaders, believing that they would do what was right in God’s time. So I decided to pray and wait some more. I would lie low, not make waves, and keep following the leaders to God-knows-where.
And I urged everyone else to do the same.
After getting survey responses from dozens of members, I feared that hopes were building that change would be imminent. I knew that nothing would happen for some time, so I wrote a letter and emailed it to everyone who had answered my survey. My key verse for the letter was Ephesians 4:3:
Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.
I did not ask anyone to keep quiet. I asked them to approach their leaders humbly and prayerfully, not with a spirit of division or complaint, but in a manner that was gentle and constructive, realizing that people from different generations and cultures will see things differently.
If you don’t believe that I actually did this, see for yourself. The letter is right here.
If you hear anyone say that I stirred up trouble, print a copy of this letter and place it in their hands.
As I waited for UBF leaders to do something about these issues, I didn’t sit down and do nothing (as several know-nothings have suggested). In the months ahead, I continued to study the Bible and preach Sunday messages. I prayed for our ministry, especially for those who were unhappy. We entertained UBF guests at our home, including Paul and Sarah Hong, who stayed with us overnight. I wrote dozens of positive articles for UBFriends, monitoring the website day and night to interact with everyone who cared to comment. I read dozens of books on various topics, especially the theology of mission.
And Sharon and I enrolled in John Armstrong’s first cohort on missional ecumenism. At a time when we really could not afford it, we paid from our own family budget (not with ministry funds) the full registration fees for the year-long course, for all the books, and for round-trip travel and accommodation in Chicago. We didn’t do this to become know-it-alls. We did it because we needed to understand what Christian unity is about. We were longing for someone, anyone, to please teach us how to relate to other Christians in our community. Most of all, we desperately wanted to know what the gospel required us to do in response to our fellow believers in UBF who, as the weeks and months went by, seemed ever more distant and different from us.
And with that, dear brothers and sisters, I bid you do widzenia.
P.S. – Some of you might say that I’ve gone too far, that it was unethical and unChristian to reveal what happened at that retreat. If so, I suggest that you lodge a complaint with Washington UBF. Then please note that, during the many years that I served on the senior staff, no one ever suggested to me that the proceedings were to be kept secret. In fact, at that Wisconsin retreat, I specifically recall some of the members (I could be wrong, but I think it was Henry Park and perhaps Paul Hong) saying that they are completely open and transparent about these things, and when they return home after a senior staff meeting, they meet with their members and inform them of what happened. And no one never said I should spin the events to make UBF leaders look better than they are. So I have done precisely what they said, explaining what happened as I experienced it.
If you were there and would like to tell it from a different perspective, send us your article, and we’ll publish it right away.
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Change is coming!
A “Person of Peace” And The Family
It was like building a baseball diamond, placing my family as players and attempting play a baseball game, week after week, thinking people would eventually join us, filling the pews, forming teams and a league, like the dream of Kevin Costner in the 1989 movie “Field of Dreams”: If you build it, they will come…NOT!!!!!!
As one who has been participating in University Bible Fellowship for many years, I’d like to offer my thoughts on some of the points in Joe’s recent open letter to the President of UBF.
Another heartbreaking story was recently told to me by someone who played in the Chicago UBF orchestra in the 1990’s. During one of their practices, Samuel Lee walked in. The room fell silent and everyone was on edge. Lee walked up to one of the orchestra members, a young man who was probably thought to be rebellious, and Lee repeatedly slapped him and punched him in the head. The young man wanted to leave, but the orchestra conductor urged him not to go. Then Lee told some members of the orchestra to stand up and punch one another. If they didn’t punch hard enough, he urged them to punch harder. The young man who had been assaulted by Lee was thoroughly disgusted and decided to walk out, and as he went, Lee followed him and said, “Thank me. Before you leave, you should thank me.”
“What did Jesus really mean when He said, ‘Follow Me?’” This is the title of a small pamphlet by David Platt that a friend showed me. I eagerly read it, since “follow me” is repeated at least 17 times by Jesus in the four gospels in the NIV, and implied countless more times. You might not realize it but “Follow me” is the most frequent command Jesus gave. (Incidentally, Jesus did not say even once, “worship me.”)
Please listen. A leader who only wants to teach others, lord over others and control them, but not seriously dialogue with them or listen to them makes a poor leader. A Christian leader is ultimately never one who is appointed (by God or by people), but one who has earned the right to lead others through Christ-like love. I will state categorically that a leader who does not genuinely dialogue with or listen to his or her people will eventually lose them to someone who would listen to them. Isn’t this why so many people, including so many 2nd gen children of hardcore senior leaders, are continuing to leave UBF?
“…it became too painful to stay in UBF, and much of my time in UBF was painful. It was painful to see a so-called church systematically abuse people in the name of shepherding, praise those who did so, and then vilify and ignore those who either left or spoke against the issues. It was painful to see the whole congregation be asked to pray for such and such UBF chapter to have a big conference with many attendees while knowing that that very chapter has hurt people. To see this done, with business as usual continuing, was painful and anger inducing. And then it happened to me too.
Let me conclude with a few excellent words by Pope Francis about what prevents dialogue and about how to have a genuine dialogue with another:
This story illustrates Rohr’s point and the theme of Everything Belongs: