The Book of Romans

Below is a Video of a sermon I recently preached on the Book of Romans, Paul’s epistle to the church in Rome, written in the Winter of either AD 56-57, or 57-58.  It’s not my favorite book in the Bible.

Paul was in Corinth when he wrote it, and his letter to that church contains one of the Bible’s most famous passages: the so-called Love Passage in First Corinthians 13.  I suppose Romans does contain the uplifting More Than Conqueror’s passage starting in chapter Eight, verse 31, but so much of the book seems to run in circles with long, complex, seemingly contradictory passages trying to reason their way out of the conundrums posed by The Law. Here is part of the passage I was assigned to preach on:  “(7) What shall we say, then? Is the law sinful? Certainly not! Nevertheless, I would not have known what sin was had it not been for the law. For I would not have known what coveting really was if the law had not said, ‘You shall not covet.’ (8) But sin, seizing the opportunity afforded by the commandment, produced in me every kind of coveting. For apart from the law, sin was dead. (9) Once I was alive apart from the law; but when the commandment came, sin sprang to life and I died. (10) I found that the very commandment that was intended to bring life actually brought death. (11) For sin, seizing the opportunity afforded by the commandment, deceived me, and through the commandment put me to death. (12) So then, the law is holy, and the commandment is holy, righteous and good.  (13) Did that which is good, then, become death to me? By no means! Nevertheless, in order that sin might be recognized as sin, it used what is good to bring about my death, so that through the commandment sin might become utterly sinful.”  Enough said.

My first little Bible, the only one I had for years. Decades later it still has a marker at Romans 3:23.

Yet the Book of Romans has played a profound role in my life.  In the sermon below, I share my conversion story, which begins when I was 17, and was, one Sunday, at Golden Gate Park in San Francisco. I think the day was a beautiful one, one which was seemingly spoiled when I got back to my car and found a religious tract under the passenger’s windshield wiper.  Religious tracts and the people who passed them out irritated me no end in those days when I was an agnostic at best.  The verse the tract first quoted was Romans 3:23—“All have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.”  Oh, sure, I thought, angrily.  Then I thought, even more angrily, I bet this isn’t even in the Bible!

The only Bible I had was one I had gotten as a fourth grade child when we lived on the Fort Ord Army base, just north of Monterey.  It was black and small, measuring only 4 and 1/4 inch wide, and 6 and 1/8 inch high.  I remember being on the steps of the base church, being able from its hillside perch to see the ocean in the distance.  Pastor Paul was talking briefly to my parents, and I noticed the deep cleft in his chin.  I’ve kept that Bible to this day, and when I picked it up to bring to church and tell this story of my first encounter with the Book of Romans, it still had four small bookmarks in it.  One of them was Romans 3:23.  It was to this Bible I went when I was 17 to confirm that “All have sinned and come short of the glory of God” wasn’t even in the Bible.  But it was.  I broke out in a cold sweat, and a heavy burden started to press down on my head and shoulders.  It got heavier and heavier, and a couple of weeks later I gave in to the call of Jesus.

It all still seems illogical to me.  I was, as I said, agnostic and best, and I didn’t believe in the sanctity of the Bible at all. Yet as I was preparing the sermon you can watch below, I realized, decades and decades after this event, that I was skirting the peripheries of what Paul was trying, often clumsily, to get at when he was attempting to align faith with The Law. The good The Law did was to drive us to understand that it was something that could not save us, that it only made us feel worse so that we would turn elsewhere to have the burdens lifted from us.*

* In fact, my sermon conclusion below steers away from this deeper conclusion here and towards a more practical, every day one—one which ties The Law into the things we do at church to prepare us to serve in the world.

♦ Go HERE for a complete list of sermons, like “Pentecost Means No ‘Supremacies,'” “Sacred Doing,” and “Theology and Race.”

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Filipino Heritage Night at Dodgers Stadium

I love Michael Wong’s Instagram-YouTube-Facebook-Tiktok series “Asian Verified.”  He’s a Seattle based commentator, digital creator, writes for Seattle’s The Stranger newspaper,  and calls himself a cultural anthropologist for Asian Americans.  He has a Chinese father, a Filipina mother, and is married to Tasheanna, a Black woman. One of his videos is about his wife and mom becoming fast friends while taking a trip to Paris (without Michael) only a couple weeks after their marriage. It’s quite moving, actually, and more serious than many of his videos, like the Dad Cam series, in which he mainly comments on the ways Asian dads dress.  They’re hilarious.

My favorite Asian Verified video is below.  It’s Wong’s commentary on the dress and food and Filipino swagger on Filipino Heritage Night at Dodgers Stadium, which happened just a few weeks ago on June 15, 2026.  “The Gen-Z lingo hurt my brain,” said my oldest son Rick after his brother Aaron sent the family a link to it.  What Micah, Rick’s oldest, liked best was when a shot of an older Filipino man came up and Wong said, “And the solo lolos* were out and about just swag farming the stadium.” “That looks like you, Lolo!” she exclaimed.

Wong is the master of the last-line, throw-away compliment.  We see an older lady with traditional wide-legged pants topped with a Dodgers jersey, and Wong says, “And ate* here mixes the provincial with the promotional. That’s talent, folks.”  “And while everyone was rocking Dodgers gear, tita* here went for the double pink Aeropostale situation on a Monday night.”  It’s all delivered fast and droll.  But my favorite is when a younger man appears, his back to us, and Wong says, “And Buddy here paired the barong* with the Fjallraven side bag, a never before seen combo pack, a new era in swagapino shit.”  One reason it’s my fav is that at pretty much the same moment I first saw this, I was pulling out all my barongs—a surprising nine in all—wondering which one to wear at an upcoming family wedding.  More about that HERE (the link goes live when I get around to writing about barongs).

At the end he says, “You gotta love Pinoys, the most love-pilled people on the planet.” As an aside, a joke might be that if “pilled” was really meant to be “filled,” many verified Filipinos might have pronounced it “pilled” anyway.  But no, it’s more Gen-Z lingo.  There’s all sorts of “pilled’s,” many of them referring to taking a pill, as in the movie The Matrix.  The pill—often in colors like red, blue, or black—wakes you up to a world view you adopt, or even become obsessed with.  For example, a quick Co-Pilot search yielded this: “‘Black-pilled’ refers to a pessimistic or fatalistic worldview, often linked to nihilism, social defeatism, and the belief that certain outcomes, especially in dating or social hierarchies, are predetermined and unchangeable.”  This may be opposed to “red-pilled,” which “promotes an individualistic approach to self-improvement and awareness of societal structures.” In a political context, it could refer to “taking the red pill” and waking up to “the supposed reality of the world” (my italics everywhere!).  It’s sometimes used as shorthand for radicalization into far-right political beliefs.  Whatever.  To be “love-pilled” seems simpler.  It’s a belief in traditional romance: that you believe men and women can get along, and that long-term relationships are possible and the healthiest places you can be.

Anthony Bourdain’s greatest single TV show throughout his many award-winning series is, I believe, his show on Manila, the first episode in season seven of Parts Unknown.  Near the beginning he says, “Filipinos are the most giving people on the planet. Think I’m talking shit? Keep watching.”  Now here on this short video Michael Wong says we’re the most “love-pilled” people on the planet.  It makes me feel a pardonable pride in my people that we’re so warmly verified.

_____________

♦ Go HERE for a list of my other writings about Filipinos and the Philippines on this site.

* WORDS: “Lolo/Lola” = Grandfather/Grandmother in Tagalog. In my own Philippine language, Ilocano, it would be “Apong/Apang,” which obviously don’t go as well with “solo,” as in Wong’s “solo lolos.”  “Ate” is pronounced ah-teh, and is an honorific used for an older woman.  “Tita” = Auntie.  “Barong“= Our special occasion shirt often made of very sheer material and usually intricately embroidered.

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Defiant Acts

This article is part of two large series, one on CHICAGO WRITERS, and one on BLACK WRITERS. Most of these come from two of my Chicago books—Smokestacks and Skyscrapers (with David Starkey) or Black Writing from Chicago, and there’s some overlap between the two.  The writer below and his work are not, however, included in either of these books.  He’s too young, and his first novel Defiant Acts just appeared in 2025.  He’s a former student of mine, and I’m proud to add him to the long list of important Chicago writers listed at the first two links above.

In a world where things don’t often add up, the short chapters in James Stewart III’s novel Defiant Acts do.  The shortest chapters are only a page long, the longest barely past a dozen, and they read like vignettes, most from a multi-racial family’s life in 1992, though the earliest scenes range back to 1968.  The book moves imaginatively back and forth between these years, but rather than choppiness there’s a building momentum that becomes more whole as the reader moves forward.  You’re not very far into the novel before the characters almost miraculously gain substance and depth. One reviewer said she fell in love with them, and you do. The situations they navigate also begin to strike you more deeply as well.

Because Jim and Connie are a “mixed-race,” Black-White marriage some of the chapters have to do with the racism they face…or their kids do, Nathan and Shane especially, and especially since they move from the Chicago’s Southside to suburban Naperville.  It was easier for Nathan to be the only white kid in his Southside elementary school, but now at a Naperville middle school, Washington (the same one my own kids attended!), he’s called names not only because of his Black step dad, but because his mom likes Black men.  “In his entire life, [Jim] never thought about the effects of racism on a white boy.”  There’s those people who can’t believe her three children by Jim are hers, and the newspaper feature on their multi-racial family that strikes all those tones that infuriate Connie—though Jim himself can’t stop staring at the picture of their family.  They’re beautiful.  There’s so much everyday life, like the scene of joy picking corn and shucking and boiling it only to discover it’s cattle-feed corn, not great for a human dinner.  And, as one reviewer said, there’s every day “work so palpable as to be memorable.”

Me and James Stewart III

That reviewer is one of Chicago’s greatest, most iconic, writers—Stuart Dybeck (who is in Smokestacks and Skyscrapers).  He speaks of James Stewart III’s realism as extending the work of some of Chicago’s greatest writers: Theodore Dreiser, James T. Farrell, Gwendolyn Brooks, Nelson Algren, and Richard Wright.  What James also extends is our sense of what “defiant acts” are, and, even facing racism, they are not necessarily the headline defiances one might expect.  I asked James about this, and this was his response: “I wrote a story titled Defiant Acts that didn’t make the novel but played a large role in inspiring it. This story followed a single father who had fallen on hard times and was living out of his car with his three children. The present action in this story is the father buying his children ice cream, eating it outside their car in a parking lot, and reflecting on the life they had together before their current circumstances. The thing is, he feels guilty about the ice cream; he knows that it would’ve made more sense to buy an actual meal with it, but he realized that the kids needed a break, they needed some joy, that this was essential to their well-being. So he chose, in a world/economy that is so anti-care in myriad ways, to make this small stand. It would take a sacrifice from him in the way of the money he spent, but also realizing that he’d be the one eating a little less over the next few days, so it’s this combination of care and sacrifice that we see in little acts throughout the book, Defiant Acts, that despite however tired the parents are or how little money is available, they realize that love and care is something to be prioritized, and in this world there’s usually a cost they pay for it (time, energy, money, opportunities, etc.) and in this context and against the odds, I see these many small acts as defiant.”

I was privileged to play a small part in the long road that saw James Stewart III bring his first novel to fruition.

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