Han Lee was one of those seminarians whom our faculty adores. He worked hard, asked great questions, and listened intently. When my family was moving into the president’s house he asked if he could help me unpack my books. After he arrived we immediately launched into a fascinating conversation about calling and never made it through the first box of books. Over the past year I was thrilled to watch him claim his call to serve as a Korean-American pastor.
When Han was halfway through his last semester of seminary, his father died. As the oldest son, the expectation was that he would immediately drop out of school, take over the family business, and care for his mother. He was six weeks away from being ordained as a pastor. Instead he would now manage a struggling bar that was open most of the night. He stopped by my office on the way out of school to ask for help.