Download Dr. Mang's Manuscript

"When Burmese Christian immigrants left Burma, India, Malaysia, and Thailand for the United States, they brought with them nothing but their own bodies and the clothes on their backs. Upon arrival in the United States, they have built their new lives: they founded churches, communities, businesses, and more. Their story of notable transformation has been a testament to the abiding love, amazing grace, and enduring faithfulness of God."

Pum Za Mang, educated at Luther Seminary (Ph.D.) and Princeton Theological Seminary (M.A), is associate professor of world Christianity at Myanmar Institute of Theology. He is presently a visiting scholar at Princeton Theological Seminary, Princeton, NJ.

His writings have appeared in Asia Journal of Theology, Christianity Today, Church History, Journal of Church and State, Church History and Religious Culture, International Review of Mission, International Bulletin of Mission Research, International Journal of Public Theology, Studies in World Christianity, The Review of Faith & International Affairs, and Theology Today, among other journals.

YouTube Time Stamps

00:00 Speaker Intro by David Chao
01:24 Baptist Missions in Burma
05:15 Independence and Military Rule
06:50 Faith Under Persecution
11:14 Church Resilience and Growth
12:42 Refugee Flight and Loss
17:36 Arrival in the United States
20:12 Freedom and New Blessings
22:12 Gratitude and Welcoming Others
24:49 Building Ethnic Churches
28:27 Remembering Burma After 2021
30:00 Challenges in America and Memory
33:02 Scripture and Final Blessing

Photo credit (thumbnail): Jacob Him, Svolta Film

Together, they beautifully imagine that Christian reconciliation is the creation of a community where cultural sameness is not expected. Where language, histories, and identities can remain distinct without being ranked.

By Danny Fong, co-founder of Dayspring Partners, a digital consultancy.

That’s not Cantonese

My first trip to China was in 1986. I was on the American side of a cultural exchange program hosted by a university in Xi’an. In this summer program, each of us was paired with a Chinese counterpart. Mine bluntly told me,

“Ni bushi zhongguoren. Ni shi meijihuaren.”

You are not Chinese. You are Chinese American.

To be fair, I had made the same claim when my mom was pressuring me to marry Chinese. I told her,

“I am not like people who grew up in China.”

My Chinese partner was from Jiangxi province. I was born in Hong Kong, and my parents were from Guangdong province. In other words, I was Cantonese. To my horror, one day, he found a student from Guangzhou and said to me, “Speak to her in Cantonese!”

Was this a test?

When the student heard me, she bluntly said, “that’s not Cantonese.” My partner had a good laugh. I was deeply embarrassed.

Back then, I was trying to find common ground, saying that I was also Chinese, but I didn’t realize that the dialect of Yue (粤语 / Cantonese) that my family spoke was not intelligible to “standard Cantonese” speakers. My ancestors are from Hoisan (台山, Taishan).

Over the last few decades, Hoisanva (Taishanese) has been at risk of being erased by Cantonese and Mandarin.

First Homeland of Overseas Chinese

My first visit to Hoisan was in 1997. I went with my mom, my wife, and her father. We booked a tour of China and added a visit to our ancestral villages. On that trip, I noticed how much nicer my mom’s ancestral home was than my dad’s.

The homes in my dad’s village (仪风里, Yifengli) were pretty basic. My mom’s new village (东成里, Dongchengli) was built on a hill that included only the homes of her grandfather’s family. Built with overseas money, they were noticeably grander.

I would later learn how our family story fits into the larger story of overseas Hoisan people. In the genealogy book, it reads that my great grandfather “moved to Dongchengli on the 22nd day of the 12th lunar month in the first year of the Republic of China.”

For over a hundred years, from the 1850s to 1960s, Hoisan people were the primary overseas Chinese around the world. Until the late 20th century, 80% of Chinese immigrants to the United States and Canada were from Hoisan. At that time, in Chinatowns from San Francisco to New York City and Vancouver, Hoisan culture was Chinese culture.

In July 2026, I went to Hoisan again with my wife, our children, and their partners. My three adult children were born and raised in San Francisco. When we were in Hoisan, they were amazed by how familiar everything was—architecture, food, music, language, everything.

The massive, multi-story Taishan City Museum of Overseas Chinese Culture (台山市华侨文化博物馆), which opened in 2020, tells the story of how Hoisan became the “First Homeland of Overseas Chinese.” When my children read the story, they could see themselves in it. At my mom’s ancestral home, my daughter had found a broken floor tile that she was going to bring home to clean and fix. In the museum, she walked into an exhibit with a replica village home. She was surprised to see that the replica home used the exact same floor tile design. When she went to the museum store, they were selling a souvenir keychain with the same tile design! The story of Hoisan was also her family’s story.

Toisan people migrated to Southeast Asia, United States, Australia, etc. in the 1800s because of the collapsing Qing Dynasty, ethnic conflict, famine, banditry and lawlessness. Ironically, it was the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act that locked in Hoisan people as the primary Chinese people in the U.S., and the 1965 Immigration and Naturalization Reform act that open the doors to other Chinese. As a result, outside of a few clusters like San Francisco, Hoisan people today are a small minority overseas and in China. Today, Taishanese is an endangered language.

Every Tongue in the New Creation

Christians believe that at the end of the age, there will be a new creation. Scripture does not give us a full picture, but enough to spark our imagination. In the new heavens and new earth, there will be day but no night. There will be no death and apparently no marriage. There will be leaves for the healing of the nations.

Apparently, healing is a process. We don’t instantly become geniuses. We will still learn and grow and create, but with eternity as our time horizon, anything is possible!

Every nation (Greek ethne) and language (tongue) will be there to praise their Creator. There will be ethnic groups, but no modern nation-states, no border patrol, no immigration and customs enforcement. There will be Chinese people, who share common customs and languages, and there will also be many, many distinct regional cultures. Peoples and languages that have gone extinct will be resurrected. While we’re at it, non-human species will be resurrected.

There’s so much we could muse on about new creation, but here we will focus on language.

Accents in the New Creation

Research shows that our native speech patterns are formed at a young age. By the time we are five, our brains are wired, and our micro muscles in our mouth are formed to produce the sounds of our native tongue. Other research says that if we do not start speaking a language by the age of 7 or so, we will have a noticeable accent.

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An AI analysis says that, overall, I speak English with an American accent, but it also detected influence from Taiwan. Apparently, the Taishanese language shares characteristics with Taiwanese. My brain was wired and my tongue trained to speak Taishanese as a baby. Although I speak English like a native, Chinese is in the mix.

Whether we will have accented speech in the new creation, as I believe we will, for sure there will be no stigma associated with the accents, no bullying people into speaking the dominant language, and no looking down on them for speaking with an accent.

Refugees in Hong Kong

When the student from Guangzhou said, “that’s not Cantonese,” she was dismissive of the Chinese American who was not speaking standard Cantonese. I didn’t know then, but my parents and grandmother would have experienced the same in Hong Kong.

In the 1950s and 1960s, millions of Hoisan refugees fled mainland China to Hong Kong. They often arrived with nothing, took low-wage jobs, and spoke with thick accents. Their language was associated with poverty and lack of education. My birth certificate states that I was born in Sham Shui Po, a Hoisan enclave in the 1960s, when Hoisan people made up 18% of Hong Kong. I was born in these tumultuous times.

At that time, Hong Kong was a colony of Great Britain. Even though 90% of the people in Hong Kong spoke Chinese, the official language was English. The border between China and Hong Kong was highly patrolled and militarized. I don’t know the whole story of how my parents got to Hong Kong, but they would have been lumped in with the “loud, dirty, poor, uneducated” refugees from Hoisan.

The pictures that I have of my parents in Hong Kong, though, show them in stylish Western clothing, apparently adapted to Hong Kong culture. I was born in a Hoisan enclave, but my dad moved us to Causeway Bay, where he ran a custom tailoring business. He might even have sold suits to American G.I.’s on leave from Vietnam. In those days, Hong Kong was the “undisputed global capital of custom tailoring.”

Before joining my dad in Hong Kong, my mom was a teacher in “New China.” She taught middle school students in Mandarin, Cantonese, and Taishanese. Even if accented, my parents would not necessarily have stood out. They arrived in Hong Kong when it was a mix of different Chinese immigrants, before the ascendancy of Cantopop and Hong Kong cinema in the 1970s. With the ascendancy of Hong Kong media, and “Chinese” becoming a co-official language of Hong Kong, there would soon be a prestige variety of Hong Kong Cantonese.

Every dialect will be in the new creation, but there will be no prestigious dialects that judge other local dialects, no bigotry towards desperate refugees, who live in ethnic enclaves and speak with heavy accents, no hunger, no poverty, and no militarized borders.

Remembering

Research shows that memories are imprinted with language. Loss of language results in loss of memory. On the other hand, memories can be triggered by hearing the language in which it was imprinted. On my 2026 trip, I spent a lot of time listening. I wanted to remember my elders. I wanted to remember how they were with me and with each other.

In Chikan Ancient Town, there was a grandmother-aged woman. She came to us and said, “ho song,” listening to you all speak (in English). I had not heard the Hoisan word “song” in decades, but it was my grandmother’s speech. The word means, how fun, how delightful! “Ho song hieng niek gong va” triggered memories of my own grandmother, who loved and delighted in all kinds of people.

In my memories, I hear my elders all speaking Hoisanva, my mom and dad speaking to each other. All the elders of the extended family (阿人，阿妈，阿爸，大姑，三姑，阿丈，大姨，三姨) all speaking to each other in their heart language. They were the most passionate, the most animated and loud, the most free, when they spoke in their native tongue. I see myself in their midst. I see how happy they were to be together.

Learning Chinese

As an adult, I have spent countless hours learning Chinese. I am learning Chinese through the resources that are available to me. I study Mandarin with pinyin and simplified characters. I learn Cantonese with jyutping. And I am recovering my Taishanese with the help of niche YouTube channels and Facebook groups.

I don’t study Chinese because I’m ashamed of not being “Chinese enough.” I do it because I want to remember my elders. I imagine how delighted they would be to hear me speak Chinese. I remember how, with a smile, (三姑), my aunt, toggled from Taishanese to Cantonese when she spoke with me. I remember my mom, (我妈), teaching me my times-tables and correcting my Chinese in Stockton. I imagine how delighted she would be to see me studying Chinese.

In the new creation, I will pick up where I left off in this life. I will not instantaneously speak “perfect” Chinese. Even if I did, what variety would that be?

In order to survive, my parents spoke Cantonese in Hong Kong. In the United States, they learned to speak English. My mom spoke to me in Cantonese. When I close my eyes to remember and listen, I hear her speaking to dad in Taishanese, but I hear her speaking to me only in Cantonese. She wanted me to have the prestigious language.

I imagine we will all be multilingual. Every tongue of every time and place will be spoken there. We will learn the languages that we need to communicate with the people we love. We will travel, make new friends, live in many places. The time dimension, however, will be transformed. Somehow, my Tang dynasty ancestors will still be themselves from way back then, even as I am my Chinese American self from my time. With eternity as our time horizon, we will get to know one another and learn one another’s languages.

What will happen to our accents?

Over time, we will all become highly proficient in many languages, but we will speak them with accents. We will understand each other and communicate deeply with each other. We will delight in each other’s accents. Do I detect a Taiwanese accent in your English? No, it’s actually Taishanese. I’m from San Francisco, but my roots are in Hoisan. It’s a long story.

For over two decades, Danny Fong and his wife served as founding pastors of Redeemer Community Church in San Francisco. He is also a co-founder of Dayspring Partners, a digital consultancy based in San Francisco.

Photo by Yuri Oparin on Unsplash

00:00 Welcome and Prayer: Rev. Michele Turek (ABHMS)
01:29 Conference Welcome: Naw Eh Phaw
15:19 Sponsor Greetings: David Chao (CAAC), Tommy Dyo (Epic Movement), Michele Turek (ABHMS), and Tim Tseng (AACHI)
22:24 Burma Diaspora Leaders Welcome: Ci Lian Kap (CBANA), Hrang Hlei (CBCUSA), Lian Hang Do (First Zo Baptist Church in GA), Joseph Liana (Mizo Christian Church)
33:21 Psalm 77 Devotion: Rev. Michele Turek
42:08 Conference Vision and Themes: David Chao
56:55 Closing Prayer

The Our Stories, Our Faith conference series is produced by the Center for Asian American Christianity at Princeton Theological Seminary, the Asian American Christian History Institute at Fuller Theological Seminary, the Asian Ministries of the American Baptist Home Mission Societies, and Epic Movement, a ministry of Cru.

🔗 Links

• Falam Baptist Church of Indiana: https://fbciusa.org/

• Chin Baptist Association of North America (CBANA): https://www.cbana.us/

• Chin Baptist Churches USA (CBCUSA): https://cbcusa.org/

• Center for Asian American Christianity (CAAC): https://ptsem.edu/academics/centers/center-for-asian-american-christianity/

• Imagine Otherwise by CAAC:

  Imagine Otherwise

  All things Asian American theology

  By CAAC at PTS

• Epic Movement, a ministry of Cru: https://epicmovement.com/

• American Baptist Home Mission Societies (ABHMS): https://abhms.org/

• ABHMS Scholarships & Grants: https://abhms.org/empowering-leaders/scholarships-grants

• Asian American Christian History Institute (AACHI): https://aac.fuller.edu/initiatives/asian-american-christian-history-institute/

• Pearl Dive by AACHI: https://pearldive.net/

• Burma Diaspora Christianity Project: https://fulleraachi.substack.com/t/burmese-american

Photo credit (thumbnail): Jacob Him, Svolta Film

This week’s offerings point to the power of the incarnation for building community and meeting us in the midst of struggle and despair. Yewon Park, writing on her experience at the recent Our Stories Our Faith Conference, observes how “Asian American communities are often occupied with the needs of our own ethnic communities, and understandably so. Yet if we hope to build a broader Asian American Christian community, we also have to show up for one another.”

Yewon concludes, “Perhaps presence precedes understanding,” while Dr. Neely encourages us with the promises of Psalm 139: “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.”

00:00 Welcome and Guest Intro
01:18 Jean’s Background and Calling
05:05 Diagnosis and Family Crisis
09:26 Faith Under Depression
12:04 Book Themes Living Amid
18:30 Why Stay Christian
22:54 What the Book Offers
26:42 Practices That Transformed
30:20 Writing Process and Craft
33:26 Guidance for Ministry Leaders
39:14 How Her View of God Changed
43:10 Psalm 139 and Closing

Photo by Stormseeker on Unsplash

Yewon Park is a pastor and a social worker from South Korea.

A reflection from an attendee of the 2026 Our Stories Our Faith Conference in Indianapolis.

This piece is the second in a series of conference reflections intended to recount and ruminate on the insight and fellowship gained at the OSOF conference.

At the closing worship of the Our Stories, Our Faith Conference on the Burma Christian Diaspora in Indianapolis, we prayed a Prayer Before the Cross and a Litany of Healing together. After hearing stories of migration, war, displacement, resettlement, intergenerational conflict, and resilience among Burma Christian communities, I found myself wondering whom we were actually praying for. We were certainly praying for communities still living through violence and displacement. But perhaps some people in the room were also praying for an earlier version of themselves—for the person who had survived something so overwhelming that, at the time, they did not yet have the language to name what had happened.

That thought stayed with me because one theme I heard repeatedly throughout the conference was not simply the presence of trauma, but the difficulty of speaking about it. For many who survived war, evacuation, refugee camps, and resettlement, suffering was something to endure rather than something to discuss. Some had never experienced anything remotely comparable before and therefore lacked a framework for making sense of their distress. At the same time, the language of Western mental health does not always map neatly onto culturally grounded ways of understanding suffering, faith, family, and healing. Cultural stigma can add yet another layer of silence.

What surprised me most, however, was how familiar a story so different from my own could feel. The history of Burma Christian refugees should not be collapsed into the history of Korean immigration. Many members of these communities came to the United States after surviving political violence and persecution while living as both ethnic and religious minorities. Yet as I listened to the challenges they now face within their churches, I repeatedly thought of the Korean immigrant church.

The first generation carries memories that the next generation did not live through. Their faith, their gratitude toward the country that received them, and their commitment to the church cannot be separated from those memories. Meanwhile, younger generations often encounter the church from an entirely different social location. One generation may wonder why the young seem less committed to discipleship; the other may wonder why their parents seem unable or unwilling to understand them. Both may love one another deeply while lacking the language—or sometimes even the willingness—to explain what lies underneath their actions.

One story from the intergenerational panel especially stayed with me. A child of refugees remembered that their parents had never attended school events, even when the child was succeeding academically. For years, the child interpreted that absence as a lack of interest. Only after graduation did the parents explain that they did not understand American school culture and were afraid of being seated among white parents. A single conversation changed the meaning of years of misunderstanding.

As I heard that story, I wondered how many such conversations never happened within Korean immigrant churches. Perhaps we have already allowed one generation to pass without asking enough about what our parents feared, what they sacrificed, or why certain practices mattered so deeply to them. At the same time, perhaps the first generation did not always know how to explain those things to their children.

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The conference also pushed me to think differently about mental health ministry. My first instinct is often to think in terms of resources: Where are the counselors? Which organizations provide culturally responsive care? How might churches build referral networks for addiction, trauma, legal assistance, or other needs? Those questions still matter. Yet the conference made me wonder whether the more fundamental question comes before referral: Have we created a community in which people can say that they are hurting?

During the session on addiction, I was struck by the emphasis on what churches can do through ordinary relationships—welcoming people without shame, speaking openly about addiction from the pulpit, reaching out relationally, and connecting people to appropriate support. It reminded me of something I have often observed while working with refugee communities: people who once received help frequently become some of the most committed people helping others who are walking through similar experiences.

I kept thinking of the image of the wounded healer. Healing does not necessarily mean that a wound disappears. Sometimes the wound becomes the place from which a person recognizes the pain of another. What someone once received can then be offered outward—not because the experiences are identical, but because suffering has enlarged their capacity to notice and accompany another person.

There was something joyful to me in that possibility. The most hopeful thing I heard at the conference was not a promise that trauma could simply be left behind. Rather, I saw the possibility that what had once been a source of pain could become a source of compassion, solidarity, and service.

After returning from the conference, a conversation with the pastor helped me name one more lesson: the importance of presence. Asian American communities are often occupied with the needs of our own ethnic communities, and understandably so. Yet if we hope to build a broader Asian American Christian community, we also have to show up for one another. I went to learn about the Burma Christian diaspora, but in listening carefully to their stories, I found myself seeing the Korean immigrant church differently.

Perhaps presence precedes understanding.

This leaves me with a question for my own ministry: Can immigrant churches build trusted networks of counseling and mental health resources while also creating cultures in which seeking help becomes speakable? Resources matter, but so do testimony, prayer, pastoral care, intergenerational conversation, and relationships strong enough to hold difficult truths. The church does not need to replace professional mental healthcare. But perhaps it can help create the language and trust that allows someone to take the first step toward it.

I keep returning to the Litany of Healing from our closing worship. Perhaps we were praying for others. Perhaps we were praying for our communities. But perhaps some were also praying for the selves they had once been—the selves who survived without words for what they had survived.

Maybe healing sometimes begins when the present self finally finds the words to pray for the past self. And perhaps one task of the church is to make sure that the next generation does not have to wait so long to find those words.

Yewon Park is a social worker and ministry leader serving at the Korean Church of Boston. Her interests center on immigrant and refugee communities, mental health, and the role of faith communities in fostering healing and belonging.

Who does the “American Dream” belong to?

Does gratitude mean we are forever indebted?

What role does the church have in cultural preservation?

In today’s newsletter, we reflect on the valuable questions inspired by the Burmese diaspora in Indiana. Through these written conference reflections, we also hope to welcome readers who couldn’t attend into the post-conference conversations we’re having.

By Daniella Jacob, Editor at the CAAC and incoming PhD student at the University of Virginia.

I have been a part of the team at the CAAC for approximately two years now. This has meant that I’ve experienced two cycles of annual conferences. Out of all the conferences and events the CAAC hosts, Our Stories Our Faith (OSOF) is my favorite. It was actually one of the factors that convinced me to apply for this job. I had heard all about the one in California centered on Japanese immigrants. It was my first time hearing about a conference being in a particular city so that attendees could intellectually learn and then tangibly see what they had just learned.

This year’s conference certainly did not fall short of the OSOF legacy. However, compared to previous years’ OSOF Conferences, this one felt more intimate and maybe even intrusive at times (in a good way). The community we got to peer into this past weekend seemed, to me, to be at a crossroads. One defined by a generation overwhelmed with gratitude towards America and tenacity to keep the Burmese culture as they know it. And, a crossroads in which this tenacity has worn out the succeeding generation. Dreams of the refugees and their children seem to be colliding at this time of intergenerational handoff.

This year, we got the privilege of being invited in to see Indianapolis through the lens of the Burmese Christian diaspora.

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Naw Eh Phaw, the conference’s opening speaker, has done a great job of introducing the Burmese diaspora and the significance of Indianapolis as a place. As was expressed in her opening speech, and underscored by several other speakers, the resilience of the Burmese Christian Diaspora is something that’s difficult to put into words. Although a lot of the history of the Burmese diaspora was deliberately left unspoken during this conference, I was able to grasp that their experiences were not defined by suffering, but rather God’s preeminent faithfulness through it.

As Dr. Hrang Hlei mentioned in his lecture, the Burmese refugees initially migrated from place to place, looking for a home that would accept them. Many migrated to neighboring Asian countries such as Malaysia, Thailand, and India and often sustained even more suffering in those places based on their religion, ethnicity, or refugee status. America–Indianapolis specifically–feels like the place that finally delivered a relief to their suffering and an end to their nomadic sentence.

Speaker after speaker on day one noted this profound and almost insatiable gratefulness the Burmese diaspora owes to America and to the Baptist missionaries who first brought Christianity to Burma. In Phaw’s opening speech, she makes a notable recognition of Adoniram Judson, an American baptist missionary who first brought the gospel to Burma. Dr. Pum Za Mang noted how America has been so gracious to accept Burmese refugees. Dr. Hlei, when addressing the question of why Burmese people chose Indiana, noted the kindness and welcomingness of the Hoosiers (Indiana residents). These were just a few instances out of several in which the speakers recognized why gratitude is warranted towards America.

A picture was painted, with broad strokes, that the Burmese diaspora had been welcomed as a stakeholder to the American dream. And, now they owe something back to the collective American good, whether that is to (a) seize the opportunities at hand (b) spread the gospel to their fellow Americans or (c) contribute to the collective good through jobs and/or community organizing.

A majority of the questions that followed these presentations could be organized into one big bucket: “what does the next generation think of ___?” More specifically, audience members noted and asked:

• Pastor Hlei, you mentioned that it is important for the diaspora community to not lose institutional ties with the local Christian denominations that supported them initially. Is this sentiment common and still held among the younger generations?

• Do you know of churches that practice mutual learning and appreciation across generations? Are there examples of this today?

• What can we do to help the younger generation also love our dialects, language, church, culture, and identity like we (the first generation) do?

• Does cultural continuity and individual freedom exist for the younger generation?

• The younger generation has the weight of carrying this American dream and seizing the opportunities at hand. But, this has led to stereotypes such as the tiger mom and pressure on the second generation. What should we make of this?

• Could you say more about the idea of being ‘indebted forever’? Do you see gratitude as creating an ongoing obligation to the United States -- not just newcomers?

Again, these were just a fraction of the Q&A inquiries that address the broader concern of the pressures that are falling on the second-generation of Burmese immigrants.

As a non-Burmese audience member, noticing this pattern of questions was revealing. These questions felt like ones that Burmese Christian people were sitting on for a while now. I sensed that, in the older generation, many have been thinking: why does my passion feel disproportionate to that of the younger generation? Why are they so passive when they have all this opportunity at their fingertips? How did the younger generation already forget all we’ve been through?

I also sensed that the younger generation of Burmese Christians have been considering: Is my fate to simply inherit the American dream my parents have already planned out for me? Can I choose to blend American culture or Burmese culture or will that mean I’m not Burmese enough? Why do I have to seize every opportunity that I don’t quite want?

OSOF made a space for these questions to move past introspective thinking. These precious questions now broke to the surface and were verbalized in an intergenerational environment. Although the speakers were humble enough to recognize that they don’t have all the answers to these brutally difficult questions, they were finally acknowledged as “good” and “important” questions.

I consider myself lucky to have been invited into this space. I find the crossroad that the Burmese diaspora is facing to be illuminating to the questions I’ve been struggling with for a decade as a second-generation Indian American. I found it comforting that each immigrant community goes through this difficult, intergenerational handoff. And, I found it exhilarating that none of us have the answer and that we may just have to ride the wave and see what this rising generation does with what they’ve been given.

Dr. Hlei ended his presentation answering a huge question: “What is the future of these immigrants?” He offered three potential scenarios that the Burmese Christian diaspora could choose in the near future.

I think I know my prediction. What’s yours?

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Daniella (Dani) Jacob is the child of Indian immigrants from Kerala. She completed her BA in Religious Studies at Bryn Mawr College in May 2026. She is currently a Fulbright Grantee to Bulgaria. After her time in Bulgaria, she will begin her PhD in Religious Studies at the University of Virginia. Daniella has recently savored her post-grad summer road-tripping and watching cooking videos.

By Naw Eh Phaw, a Bible teacher, Doctor of Ministry student, and a prominent leader within the Burmese diaspora of Indianapolis.

Adapted from Naw Eh Phaw’s welcome address at the 2026 Our Stories Our Faith Conference in Indianapolis.

This piece is the first of a series of conference reflections intended to recount and ruminate on the insight and fellowship gained at the OSOF conference.

Dear readers,

It is truly a joy to (virtually) welcome you to our pocket of Indianapolis.

Today, more than 30,000 Burmese people call Indianapolis home. In fact, many people affectionately call our city “Chindianapolis” because it is home to one of the largest Burmese communities outside of Burma.

That nickname always makes me smile. It reminds me of a funny story.

A very good friend of mine lives in the Washington, D.C., area. After living in America for more than ten years, her family decided to take their very first vacation. Her husband told her, “Pick somewhere nice where we can relax, explore, and enjoy spending time together as a family.” She thought about it… She searched… And finally she made her decision.

She picked...Indianapolis! When she told me that, I laughed.

Out of all the vacation destinations in America…Florida, Hawaii, California, New York., etc. She chose Indianapolis!

But then I realized...For many Burmese families, Indianapolis isn’t just another city.

It’s where relatives live. It’s where church friends live. It’s where people speak your language.

It’s where your children have friends. It’s where you can worship in your own language.

It’s where you feel at home.

So maybe Indianapolis really is a great vacation destination after all.

People often ask, “Why Indianapolis?“

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There are many reasons. Some families were resettled here. Others followed relatives. Many found jobs. Many found churches. And over the years, Indianapolis became a gathering place for Chin, Karen, Kachin, Karenni, and many other ethnic communities from Burma.

Today, there are more than seventy Burmese churches throughout our city.

Think about that. Seventy churches.

Every weekend there are Bible studies. Children’s ministries. Youth meetings. Women’s fellowships. Men’s conferences. Marriage seminars. Parenting workshops, Bible camps, Vacation Bible Schools, Leadership training...Mission conferences.

Almost every church is doing something to invest in the next generation. That is something we should thank God for.

If you’ve lived in Indianapolis for very long, you’ve probably noticed something else.

There seems to be a Burmese grocery store every few blocks.

We’re pretty good at that! I still remember when we first moved here in 2005. Back then you couldn’t buy jasmine rice at Walmart. If we wanted jasmine rice, we had to drive about forty minutes to a tiny Asian grocery store on the west side of town.

Today…

You can buy jasmine rice almost anywhere.

And if you’re hungry for Burmese food...

You have plenty of choices.

But as wonderful as these things are, they remind us of something much deeper.

Our community did not become what it is overnight. It has been built through sacrifice. Through perseverance. Through faith.

I was reminded of that this past spring. I attended a high school graduation in Perry Township. As I watched those students walk across the stage, I spent nearly the entire ceremony thanking the Lord.

Some of you may wonder why.

Because I remembered something.

When we first moved to Indiana in 2005, my son started kindergarten. One day he came home and said, “Mom, there aren’t any Burmese or Chin kids in my school.” A couple of years later, another Burmese boy enrolled. My son came home so excited. He said, “Mom! There is another Burmese boy at school!” Just one. That was exciting enough.

Fast forward to this spring.

As I looked through the graduation program, I saw page after page of Burmese names. Many of those students received academic awards. Scholarships. Leadership recognition. I couldn’t stop thanking God.

What touched me even more was hearing teachers pronounce Burmese and Chin names beautifully. No hesitation. No embarrassment. No strange accents. The teachers had learned our names. That may seem like a small thing. But to me, it was a reminder that God has been faithfully opening doors for this community.

Our stories remind us how far God has brought us.

When my husband and I first moved here in 2005, there were no smartphones. No Google Maps. No GPS. When we looked for jobs, we printed directions from MapQuest. We drove around Interstate 465. We got lost. A lot. We stopped at gas stations asking people where we were.

Eventually I found my first job. I made $6.50 an hour making pizza dough. It wasn’t a pretty job. But I thanked God for that job. I worked hard. Saved every dollar I could. And sent money back to Burma to help support my family.

I know many of you have similar stories. Some of you worked night shifts. Some cleaned offices. Some worked in factories. Some worked multiple jobs. Many of us started with very little. Yet here we are today. Not because life was easy.

But because God has been faithful.

That is why this conference is called Our Stories, Our Faith. Because our stories point us to God’s faithfulness.

Our faith has sustained us through refugee camps. Through immigration. Through language barriers. Through culture shock. Through hardship. And our faith continues to shape who we are today. Sometimes we forget something very important. The Burmese people first heard the gospel because faithful missionaries came to Burma. One of those missionaries was Adoniram Judson, sent by the American Baptist Mission.

God used him to bring the gospel to our people. Generations later. Many of us are followers of Jesus because someone crossed an ocean to tell our ancestors about Christ. Today, God has brought us across another ocean. I don’t believe that happened by accident.

I believe God has a purpose. Perhaps He has brought the Burmese people to America not only to receive blessings… But also to become a blessing. Perhaps the Lord is calling us to share the gospel with our American neighbors… To serve our communities...To plant churches, to love our cities, and to point people to Jesus.

One school superintendent recently told our community that Burmese students who are actively involved in church often stand out because they are humble, eager to learn, respectful, and love coming to school.

When I heard that, I didn’t think, “How wonderful our children are.” I thought, “How faithful God has been.“

As we begin this conference together, I hope we remember that every family in this room has a story. Some stories are joyful. Some are painful. Some are still being written. But every story points to the same faithful God.

I would like to leave you with the words of Deuteronomy 7:9:

What a fitting reminder. The God who was faithful in Burma. Was faithful in the refugee camps.

He was faithful when we first arrived in America...And He will remain faithful to the next generation. May our stories always point people to Him.

Thank you, and welcome to our series of reflections from Our Stories, Our Faith.

Naw Eh Phaw is a Bible teacher who has spoken across the nation on women’s and children’s ministry. In 2004, she received her Master of Arts in Theology from International Theological Seminary in Los Angeles and is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry in Biblical Counseling at Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. Naw currently teaches a Biblical Counseling course at Chin Theological Seminary. She is passionate about guiding individuals and families to Christ through the truth of Scripture, and her greatest joy is seeing broken hearts find healing and hope in Christ, the Great Healer.

Burma Christian Diaspora in Indianapolis: Celebrating Our Stories, Embracing Our Challenges

Time is running out to join us in Indianapolis! In-person registration for the Our Story, Our Faith Conference closes Monday, August 3.

🗓️Dates: August 7–8, 2026
📍In-Person Location: Falam Baptist Church of Indiana in Indianapolis, IN
🎟️In-Person Tickets: $60 (group and student get discounts!)
💻Virtual Attendance: Airmeet

On August 7–8, the Burma Christian Diaspora—including Chin, Kachin, Karen, Karenni, and related communities—will gather for two days of worship, storytelling, biblical reflection, and practical conversations about the challenges and hopes of our communities. Together we'll celebrate God's faithfulness, learn from one another, and strengthen the bonds that unite us in Christ.

Register Today

Your in-person registration includes:

• Two days of inspiring plenary sessions, workshops, worship, and fellowship

• Authentic Burmese lunches on Friday and Saturday, generously prepared by Little Myanmar Grocery Store

• A Friday evening fellowship dinner featuring traditional Burmese cuisine from Little Myanmar Grocery Store

• English-to-Burmese live interpretation

• Opportunities to connect with pastors, scholars, community leaders, and families from across North America through worship, meals, and discussion.

Don’t miss the registration deadline! In-person registration closes 11:59 PM Eastern Time on Monday, August 3. Virtual registration will remain available for those who cannot travel.

💻 Planning to attend online?

Virtual tickets are $5 or less per person, and fee waivers are available upon request—we want this gathering to be accessible to all. Groups get discounts of 10%–25%, so invite your friends and colleagues and register together!

Attend Virtually

📖Learn about the Burma Diaspora

Imagine Otherwise by the CAAC

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02. Where Spirits Meet the Cross

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07. Faith Under Fire

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Only 4 Days Remain to Register!

Burma Christian Diaspora in Indianapolis: Celebrating Our Stories, Embracing Our Challenges

You are warmly invited to attend the 2026 Our Story, Our Faith (OSOF) Conference: Burma Christian Diaspora in Indianapolis: Celebrating Our Stories, Embracing Our Challenges—an in-person and online gathering centering the faith and life of the Burma Christian diaspora.

***NOTE***
English to Burmese live interpretation is available for in-person participants.
အင်္ဂလိပ်ဘာသာစကား အခက်အခဲရှိသူများအတွက်လည်း မြန်မာဘာသာပြန် စီစဉ်ဆောင်ရွက်ပေးထားပါသည်။

📍Dates: August 7–8, 2026
📍In-Person Location: Falam Baptist Church of Indiana in Indianapolis, IN
📍Virtual Attendance: Airmeet

Together, we will:

• Celebrate stories of migration, resilience, and faith

• Address trauma, healing, and intergenerational challenges

• Empower youth and emerging leaders

• Reflect on Scripture through the lens of diaspora

• Strengthen unity across churches, generations, and communities

Anyone interested in Asian American history, theology, discipleship, and mental health, regardless of connections to the Burma diaspora, is welcome to attend. You are all invited to join this meaningful space for both lament and hope as we seek renewal together in Christ.

Register Today

Burma Christian Diaspora in Indianapolis: Celebrating Our Stories, Embracing Our Challenges

🗓️Dates: August 7–8, 2026
📍In-Person Location: Falam Baptist Church of Indiana in Indianapolis, IN
💻Virtual Attendance: Airmeet

The story of Asian American Christianity is richly diverse. Every community carries its own history of migration, resilience, and God’s faithfulness. This conference invites us to listen to the experiences of the Burma Christian diaspora—including Chin, Kachin, Karen, Karenni, and related communities—and to consider what these stories can teach the wider Church.

What to expect:

• Powerful plenary sessions on migration, refugee resettlement, biblical theology of the diaspora, and healing from trauma — featuring scholars and leaders like Pum Za Mang, Hrang Hlei, Tansy Kadoe, and Lun Kham Pieper

• Workshops on topics like addiction and family healing, intergenerational dialogue, and immigration/legal literacy

• Panels bringing together voices from across the Asian American Christian community, including Pan-Asian closing reflections

• Worship, lament, and the Lord’s Table — a space for both joy and honest grief

• Community meals, fellowship, and discussion throughout

Registration:

• In-Person: $60 (Student rate: $30) — closes Monday, August 3!

• Virtual: $5 (fee waivers available)

• Group discounts available (10–25% off for groups of 3+)

This gathering is a chance to honor the testimonies of first-generation refugees and migrants, uplift the next generation of leaders, and build bridges across our diverse Asian American Christian communities.

Learn More and Register

Why Does the Burma Diaspora Matter for All Asian American Christians?

The Burma diaspora is a unique group within Asian America, often underrepresented in conversations around the Asian American Church. Many Burma Christians arrive in the United States with particularly acute experiences of war, oppression, displacement, and separation. They have also experienced the faithfulness of God throughout their journeys, successfully putting down roots, creating tight-knit communities, and navigating the intergenerational challenges characteristic of immigrant communities everywhere. The stories of Burma Christians demonstrate the power of the Church to cultivate deep community and raise its people up to survive and thrive. The Asian American Christian story is incomplete without stories from the Burma Diaspora.

From David Chao’s Gathering the Scattered Part II:

The broader Asian American church has things to learn from this community. There are stories capacious enough to hold these differences. There are refugee churches that need support and that already offer theological insight, missionary vitality, institutional creativity, and hard-won wisdom about survival. There are pastors carrying burdens that many seminaries have not trained them to carry. There are young people whose identities are being formed across several languages, histories, and geographies. There is a faith that feeds people, gathers people, sends people, counsels people, buries people, teaches children, remembers the dead, supports the displaced, and prays for peace. To recognize what is here is the first task.

We will be holding a panel session featuring ministry leaders from various Asian American contexts. Hear from one of our panelists, Joshua Joseph here:

Reflections from an Oral History Fellow

Plenary Highlights

Plenary 1: “Scripture and the Scattered Church: Biblical Theology of Migration and God’s Faithfulness”

Plenary 2: “Social History of Refugee Resettlement”

Plenary 3: “Refugee Resettlement: History and Laws that Our Community Needs to Know”

💻 Planning to attend online?

Virtual tickets are $5 or less per person, and fee waivers are available upon request—we want this gathering to be accessible to all. Groups get discounts of 10%–25%, so invite your friends and colleagues and register together!

Attend Virtually

🎟️ In-Person Group Registration Discounts

Register as a group to access 10%–25% off the regular price of $60 per ticket. All you need is your group members’ email addresses to reserve their spots—each group member must confirm their registration by filling out their information!

In-person tickets include 2 lunches and 1 dinner.

Attend in Person

We hope you’ll join us — in person or online — for this meaningful time of worship, learning, and connection.

Only 9 Days Remain to Register!

Burma Christian Diaspora in Indianapolis: Celebrating Our Stories, Embracing Our Challenges

You are warmly invited to attend the 2026 Our Story, Our Faith (OSOF) Conference: Burma Christian Diaspora in Indianapolis: Celebrating Our Stories, Embracing Our Challenges—an in-person and online gathering centering the faith and life of the Burma Christian diaspora.

***NOTE***
English to Burmese live interpretation is available for in-person participants.
အင်္ဂလိပ်ဘာသာစကား အခက်အခဲရှိသူများအတွက်လည်း မြန်မာဘာသာပြန် စီစဉ်ဆောင်ရွက်ပေးထားပါသည်။

📍Dates: August 7–8, 2026
📍In-Person Location: Falam Baptist Church of Indiana in Indianapolis, IN
📍Virtual Attendance: Airmeet

Together, we will:

• Celebrate stories of migration, resilience, and faith

• Address trauma, healing, and intergenerational challenges

• Empower youth and emerging leaders

• Reflect on Scripture through the lens of diaspora

• Strengthen unity across churches, generations, and communities

Anyone interested in Asian American history, theology, discipleship, and mental health, regardless of connections to the Burma diaspora, is welcome to attend. You are all invited to join this meaningful space for both lament and hope as we seek renewal together in Christ.

Register Today

By Chayah Sparsham (pseudonym), a registered nurse in the United States.

This essay is the final part of a three-part series. Although each piece can stand alone, we encourage you to read part one and two to get a full picture of Chayah’s contributions.

“Those who regard worthless idols forsake their own mercy.” (Jonah 2:8)

Is it safe to say that in the Asian Christian community, the worthless idol may be our own community? We say we are Christians, yet we worship what we honor. We worship reputation. We worship marriage prospects, careers, trajectories, church standing and the opinions of aunties and uncles. We say Jesus is Lord, but the moment faithful obedience threatens family image we choose secrecy instead of truth. So if we are called to a field by Jesus alone, but the call He has called you to defies honor, defies reputation, and threatens marriage prospects, threatens careers, threatens church standing, and threatens cultural opinions, what do you choose? My conviction stands in one place, with Christ alone, to be a light in the world of psychiatry, amongst the darkest of individuals. Yet, the Asian Christian community I stem from, has frowned upon this as a call. Allow me to share a few moments that continue to weigh on my heart.

“Thank God you left.”

“But I’m planning to go back.”

“No, don’t ever. Its flaws run deeper than they first appear.”

Oh, Asian ministry leader.

I remember your face before your words. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, as if bracing yourself. It was a sigh of relief–the kind taken by someone who believes they are protecting someone else from danger. You spoke with disturbance. You spoke with finality. You spoke with love, to the extent you understood.

But I stood there unsettled, because what you were warning me against was not sin. You were warning against obedience.

Is this not the Great Commission? This urge to reach the lost, to stand with the broken, to speak hope into hopelessness, and refuse silence while so many suffer in the shadow of this dark world of mental illness. Is this not what Jesus commanded as He stood on the earth after the cross, scars still fresh. He said to go and make disciples of all nations. And, as He was going up to heaven, He placed the weight of the mission into human hands. Did I not tell you how clearly the Lord opened this door, Asian ministry leader? How prayer after prayer confirmed this decision of mine was not recklessness. It was calling. I did not choose the job lightly. I did not drift into it because every other door was closed. I did not step in out of curiosity. I was led. And I fear disobedience far more than I fear the darkness of the place I am called to walk into. I know I am going back. Not impulsively. Not stubbornly. But in His time. Under His authority.

“It’s been so long. What are you doing now, young one?”

“Pediatric psychiatry. Going to leave soon, then return back.”

“Oh boy, that’s not good. It’s not a good thing.”

Oh, Asian family friend.

Your face was serious. Older. Strong. Your words came swiftly, sternly, as though you were stating a universal truth. In your world, some professions are simply labeled as bad, especially the ones that deal with “Mental health”.

But I do not do this profession because it is good or not good. I do this because the Lord gave me this work. The Great Commission was never about cultural approval.

“This is why you can’t get married. I’m glad you left. It stopped a lot of people from considering you. No one wants someone who works in this field.”

Oh, Asian family member.

You said it plainly, as if marriage were the final measure of a faithful life. As if obedience were negotiable if it interfered with others’ desires. But I did not do this for marriage. And I will never lose a calling to be more desirable to a future prospect. I want a husband who covers me in prayer, knowing I am stepping into a mission field. The Great Commission was never meant to protect our image. It is costly.

“Can you pursue another field?”

Oh, Asian friend.

You sat there polished and put together. Trendy clothes. Perfect makeup. Slick hair. A smile that did not quite reach your eyes. You searched my face, hoping I would succumb to worldly ease.

But the Great Commission asks us to go. And going often means entering places people warn you away from. This work is not pleasant. Safety is unknown. The danger is profound. But Jesus never promised ease. He promised He would be with us.

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Well…”

“The mental, emotional, and spiritual warfare there. It can affect you–or your kids or your family– if you are not praying continuously. ”

Oh, Asian Gen Z.

You squinted, avoided eye contact, careful with your words. You gave valid advice --Mandating prayer isn’t refutable. This is why covering matters. I did not walk into this field because it is impressive. I did not walk into it for a following. I walked into it because the Lord made it undeniably crystal clear in prayer. The Great Commission will only be upheld by surrender.

“Can you do general pediatrics? I think it’s a great field. My mom asked.”

Oh, Asian future prospect in marriage who I no longer speak to.

I stared at your sweet smile on the screen. Button-up shirt. Crisp. Eyes looking to the corners of your room in the silence, clinging to hope that I would change my mind about working in this field. But this dear one, was never about what you wanted, what I wanted, or what your mother wanted. This is a divine calling and only Jesus assigns the divine calling.

“You can do psych if you really like it. How about at this hospital?”

Oh, Asian auntie.

You were driving. Jacket zipped, holding tightly to the steering wheel, chin down in your scarf. Focusing on the brisk cold air still in the car more than the awkwardness of silence. You suggested a prestigious place. Clean. Controlled. A hospital that protects its reputation. A place that does not take the worst cases. A place that avoids controversy. A place that is one unit in a medical hospital and not a full locked down facility, which I quickly learned provides two totally different experiences in psychiatry. It looks amazing on paper to come from there. But that is not where I was called. Great pay, great name, great safety, great benefits. It isn’t where I was called. At least not at that time. The Great Commission does not send us where it looks respectable. It sends us where people are breaking to the point where no one wants to go a foot near them. Not even another so called psychiatric unit.

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Writing this hurts.

I did not expect a wound I could feel in my body. A tightness in my chest. A heaviness that presses inward. Especially as someone who rarely feels emotion this deeply. But this wound is clearly felt.

It is a wound for the lost, broken, those labeled the worst of the worst.

It is also a wound for the Asian American Christian community. A community strong in doctrine and discipline. Strong in preaching holiness and separation regardless of denomination. It is embedded in us. Yet often hesitant when obedience, God ordained obedience requires lifelong inconvenience.

This pain is present because I realize so many may never follow their calling if it requires departing from comfort. This pain is present because I realize some may not remain faithful when obedience costs status or safety.

Can we for once, when the Lord of the universe calls for it, break luxury? Where is our fear for disobedience to Christ?

Can we remember what the Great Commission should look like on the ground?

I’m in pain as I write freshly. A pain that ascends from a piercing in my heart and radiates to the bridge of my nose as I tighten my muscles.

Because on the ground, I know the Great Commission does not look clean. Oh, Asian American Christian, stop being poche.

Romans 8:18 reads, “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.”

The Great Commission to me looks like broken glass scattered across a unit floor. Bleeding forearms. A nurse being sent to the ED. Computer monitors ripped from desks and smashed against walls. Sheet rock dust in white smoke as more is being torn open, insulation exposed like bone. The loudspeaker blaring for help until the sound becomes constant. Chairs overturned. Papers soaked with spilled water and sweat. Yet, this suffering is minor to the glory that will be revealed.

This suffering is microscopic but to the everyday individual it does look like chaos.

It looks like the moment I saw a nurse thrown down to the ground three times in less than a minute with multiple punches to his chest. His body hitting wood. His face tight with pain and shock. It looks like a coworker pinned against a wall, breath caught, eyes wide, frozen in the split second where strength is lost. It looks like staff moving quickly but carefully. Muscles tense. Voices firm. Hands shake after the moment passes. Silence is heavy once the crisis ends. Everything cleaned up with no time to process what happens seven, eight, or nine times in a day. And wanting to flinch is frowned upon, is seen as weak, is seen as odd. Showing the love of Christ amongst coworkers who do not know Christ means I do not just make little sense to my patients in crisis, but to my fellow coworkers.

I write this in pain. As I remember the smell of disinfectant and adrenaline and broken doors. It feels like locked doors to units clicking shut with seconds between us and danger. It sounds like sobs and screams. It feels like standing in hallways where pain plays frisbee and trauma is not just a theory in class anymore.

And still, there is a divine pull.

Not loud. Not dramatic. A steady pull.

A drawing toward these locked units. Toward children who cannot name what hurts. Toward families breaking under the crushing weight of continuous torment. Toward places where dignity is stripped and humanity is still somehow not.

2 Corinthians 4:17 reads, “For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.”

The ache is heavy. Pressing. It sits beneath the ribs and does not leave. The ache has a peculiar peace, it outweighs and is light in affliction knowing whose name will be glorified.

The cross stands at the center of this.

Jesus did not move toward suffering reluctantly. He moved boldly. Wood scraping torn skin. Weight collapsing organs. Blood and dirt drenching his body. He entered pain knowingly. And as He ascended, He left behind no illusion of comfort. He left a commission that mirrored the cross.

On earth, it once looked like a fisherman leaving nets. Tax collectors leaving titles. Families leaving families. Safety no longer guaranteed. In Acts, it looked like persecution, exile, prison time, homelessness, hunger. Paul left education, honor, status, and wealth behind. He traded robes for rags and prestige for visible scars.

In comparison, the calling I am walking in is miniscule.

Yet, even this feels unbearable to some.

This painful ache, I cannot describe as I write. This pull to this group is not for success or admiration, but toward wounds that need tending and souls that have been abandoned.

This is why I go.

I go not for goodness.

I go not for an award.

I go not because the ache will one day loosen.

I go because the pull to continue in Christ’s calling does not release me.

I go because the One who sends me still has pierced hands.

And I follow, step by step, into places where light is thin, trusting the same hands once pierced now goes before me.

By Ma May Si, OSOF Fellow and Vice President for the Matu Affairs Organization USA.

Interviewing community members for the Our Stories, Our Faith (OSOF) fellows’ program has truly been an unforgettable and rewarding experience. Not only has this experience allowed me to connect with my community members, close friends and family more deeply, it has also allowed me to better understand the impact of migration and the broader social history of the Burma diaspora in Indianapolis.

A year ago, I moved to Indianapolis from Columbia, a small city in Missouri with a Burmese population nowhere comparable to the size here in Indianapolis. Although it has already been a year, I am still discovering new Burmese-owned businesses and Burmese-led organizations and groups that provide social services for community members. I am deeply appreciative and in awe of the efforts of those working relentlessly to provide resources for our non-English speaking community members to be more independent. As was the case for my family, three out of the four narrators I interviewed revealed that they had also moved from out of state, with the availability of resources and the large community here as deciding factors. It’s human nature to seek belonging, and I believe it’s the opportunities that Indianapolis offers for Burmese people, such as being able to interact and worship in one’s native dialects, that truly make individuals feel like they belong here.

During the recruitment process, I aimed to recruit narrators of different age groups and genders to ensure I captured a variety of perspectives. I hoped to explore both the similarities and differences in experiences, along with ways faith and culture intersect in their lives. However, this process was more challenging than I had anticipated. Many potential narrators, regardless of age, expressed hesitancy, and older individuals often told me to find others who could better answer the questions. While I can’t say for certain why these hesitations existed, I imagine that younger individuals may have had busy schedules or felt unfamiliar with the idea of being interviewed about their everyday lives. For older individuals, the lasting effects of religious and political persecution in Burma may still shape how they see themselves and their stories. After years of having their voices dismissed or their sense of worth diminished, being asked to share about their lives may feel difficult. These possibilities highlight how important it is to continue creating opportunities for community members to share their experiences, and to remind ourselves that ordinary stories are just as important as extraordinary ones.

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I was eventually able to recruit a total of four narrators for my interviews, two that grew up, and another two that spent majority of their lives outside of the US. One of the older narrators I recruited was a 63-year-old-woman, who is one of my friend’s mother, and the other was my father, a 50-year-old. As for the younger narrators, I was able to recruit a friend and a cousin, who were 24 and 20 at the time of the interviews. They offered many meaningful insights and there were several points that lingered with me throughout the interview.

When asked what they appreciate about living in the United States, three of the four narrators spoke about the freedom and the opportunities available to them. Paul, my father, emphasized that life in the U.S. and Myanmar are complete opposites, with examples including the ability to worship freely, work freely, and live day-to-day life without restraint. This sense of deep gratitude was evident through the speech, vocal tone, and facial expressions of the narrators and served as a great reminder of God’s goodness and blessings I sometimes take for granted. Furthermore, their perspectives also stirred a sense of curiosity in me on how responses might differ if the same question were to be asked to individuals who were born and raised in the United States. What would they say they appreciate about living in America? Will their sense of gratitude mirror that of these narrators? The youngest narrator, like the others, was born in Myanmar and spent time living in Malaysia before arriving in the US. Although he left Myanmar just when he was about a year old and arrived in the US when he was very young, his journey still allowed him to compare the differences in livelihood. This type of comparison may not be available to those who have grown up entirely in the United States, and I believe this will play a great role in the probable differences in responses. I am curious of how their understanding of faith and community is shaped within a culture here that often emphasizes individuality over shared identity, and how those perspectives might both differ from and connect with the stories I heard.

One of my favorite parts of the interviews was hearing about their favorite cultural holidays and rituals from their childhood. All mentioned celebrating Christmas as a church community, compared to the norm of only celebrating it with your family here in America, and of the games, food, and laughter surrounding the celebrations. My father also shared about the symbolic firing of traditional muskets during New Year’s to welcome the new year and proclaim joy and good health through Christ. A quiet sadness filled his voice as he recalled the past, which made me greatly empathize with the older folks in the community that may still be longing for the land of their childhood and memories. Another holiday or ritual mentioned was a cultural celebration known as Losak Khotue or Khotue Poei, which one of the younger narrators mentioned as crucial for connecting with other Matu-Chin youth and building a shared identity. The responses for this question highlighted that faith in the Chin and Burmese communities are often intertwined with culture, and that cultural events are essential for identity developments and reinforcing collective value systems.

All four narrators emphasized the profound impact of mothers in strengthening their faith. Ngun, the 63-year-old narrator, mentioned she grew up in a Christian household but did not fully understand what it meant to be saved. Her and her siblings eventually came to know Christ personally due to her mother’s prayers and encouragement, which was also consistent among the other narrators. Almost all mentioned growing up in Christian households but not having relationships with God until personal encounters with Christ through camps and mission trips.

Ngun and Paul both revealed that there are some things their family never talk about, such as things related to suffering or financial hardships. Their reluctance to talk about these things with their family could possibly stem from not wanting to appear vulnerable in front of their children and to preserve their sense of security. On the contrary, Billy, the 20-year-old narrator, revealed he hopes his parents would share the emotional burden of suffering and hardships. Nancii, the 24-year-old, was the only one out of the four to share that her family talks about everything from suffering to joy, while emphasizing the importance of faith as the catalyst for openness among her family members. I believe this openness or the desire for openness from the younger narrators could be attributed to growing up in the US and its emphasis of freedom of expression, compared to social harmony, “saving face,” and the idea of not burdening others that is largely emphasized in Asian countries and likely still among the older narrators. This kind of generational gap was also apparent in other responses. Both the younger narrators believed discipleship training among the older generation is not as common, and that church is seen as a part of culture for many community members. These responses are worthy of consideration for the community. For the church to grow and continue to be a place where all generations can worship together, we cannot merely preach the teachings of Jesus, we must live them. It is also essential for the church to learn how to properly approach differing opinions and perspectives among church members. Today, there are many Chin-Burmese youth who no longer attend their parent church or church in general due to differing political views than that of the pastor on the pulpit. While differences are bound to exist among generations growing up with different values, these differences must be combatted through the cultivation of an envrionment filled with Christ’ teachings of love and compassion, not shame.

I am reminded of the story of Abraham through the stories of the narrators. God called Abraham to leave his native country, and through his obedience, he and his descendants were blessed. I can imagine the similar fear and emotional distress that Abraham and many Burmese folks may have shared when they left everything they knew of for a land thousands of miles away. Through it all, God protected and provided for them, and only through faith and His faithful promises, did Abraham become the father of many nations. Only through faith and His goodness, are we also here today as the Burma Christian diaspora. I pray we continue to live our faith boldly and follow Christ’ teachings to be the salt and light of the world, and I pray we continue to make Indianapolis a flourishing place for people of all tribes and backgrounds to live in. Amen.

Listen to the audio transcript below for a peek into what the interview process looked like for May:

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Ma May Si, also known as Maysi, is a passionate Matu Chin leader in the community. She obtained her Master’s in Public Health from the University of Missouri-Columbia, with an emphasis in Promotion and Policy, and recently moved to Indiana to reunite with family and to better serve the Burmese community. Maysi currently serves as the Vice President for the Matu Affairs Organization USA, volunteers at the Chin Center, and is a youth leader at her church in Indianapolis. Through the OSOF Fellows Program, she hopes to amplify the stories of the Burmese Christian diaspora and highlight the profound role God has played in the lives of community members.

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash

Our Stories, Our Faith 2026: Register Today!

Burma Christian Diaspora in Indianapolis: Celebrating Our Stories, Embracing Our Challenges

You are warmly invited to attend the 2026 Our Story, Our Faith (OSOF) Conference: Burma Christian Diaspora in Indianapolis: Celebrating Our Stories, Embracing Our Challenges—an in-person and online gathering centering the faith and life of the Burma Christian diaspora.

***NOTE***
English to Burmese live interpretation is available for in-person participants.
အင်္ဂလိပ်ဘာသာစကား အခက်အခဲရှိသူများအတွက်လည်း မြန်မာဘာသာပြန် စီစဉ်ဆောင်ရွက်ပေးထားပါသည်။

📍Dates: August 7–8, 2026
📍In-Person Location: Falam Baptist Church of Indiana in Indianapolis, IN
📍Virtual Attendance: Airmeet

Together, we will:

• Celebrate stories of migration, resilience, and faith

• Address trauma, healing, and intergenerational challenges

• Empower youth and emerging leaders

• Reflect on Scripture through the lens of diaspora

• Strengthen unity across churches, generations, and communities

Anyone interested in Asian American history, theology, discipleship, and mental health, regardless of connections to the Burma diaspora, is welcome to attend. You are all invited to join this meaningful space for both lament and hope as we seek renewal together in Christ.

Register Today