“Just when I had thought that the hard part was over, I had to carry myself to the hills.”

Since living in New York City, Easter has become an ordinary day for me. Not because I don’t celebrate it but because I have been on a hiatus from attending church. Mainly because I experienced some terrible things from church when I was a college student. From toxic individuals who use the name of God to avoid accountability, to power-hungry men who exploit church politics to control women, it hurts to say this but church has long been a culprit of institutional oppression and a vacuum of judgement. It’s not God or faith that enables the painful reality of church but the people in it.

I grew up attending church every Sundays. During my adolescent years, I went to a Southern Baptist church near downtown Decatur, GA. Although the denomination might sound frightening to some of you, I actually enjoyed the church (except for racist children who joked about me being Asian and called me “kimchi girl”) and learned a lot from the experience. One memorable experience was the Easter service. Being a semi-traditional Southern church, many of us dressed like we were going to Kentucky Derby and joyfully clapped our hands as we praised the Lord in unity. The praise team sang their hearts out to “Oh Happy Day,” and everyone cheered, “He’s Risen!” After the service, families gathered in front of a gigantic cross that was fully clothed in flowers and posed for a photo or two (with digital cameras–we were so “ancient” back then). I wore a pastel-colored dress with wedges (what a 2000s fashionista babe). My family and I stood in front of the cross and softly smiled at the camera (I was conscious of my teeth back then. I didn’t get braces until sophomore year of high school). Following the service was my family’s Easter brunch which typically included quiche, coffee, mixed salad, and fruits (quite simple yet elegant).

Those were the “goody-church-girl” days of my life. Now, I’m 29 years old, and I live in a city where it’s too cold to wear sundresses for Easter service. But this year was a bit different. My mom relocated to the city, and we have been doing a lot of “family” stuff together. So this year for Easter, we decided to go to Riverside Church as a family.

But nothing completes the Kim family without a rigorous hike. Saturday before Easter, we went to Palisades Interstate Park.

I feel like my body has been hit by a truck. I’m still recovering from the hike–or shall I say the “climb” (hey Siri, turn on Miley Cyrus). The trail was recommended by our mother who was totally unprepared for the trip. Despite her wearing full, head-to-toe Vuori clothes and hiking boots, she did not bring a water bottle! Horrible.

Going down to the water fall–by the Hudson River–was not bad. It was steep but we saw random cabbages and streams. Oh did I mention? We brought our 12-year old, senior dog with us (double trouble!). The first hour of the hike was light and fun.

We took some pictures by the water fall and ate some homemade kimbap that mom packed for us (thanks mom but you should still bring your own water bottle). Ina, our dog, nibbled on some apples and blueberries.

Then came the hardest part. Going back to the starting point. Since we didn’t do much research on the trail, we ended up on the long, rocky route. “We will, we will ROCK YOU.” Literally. We leaped, slid, climbed, crawled, and lifted ourselves through the scramble of rocks. Our hike-trained dog also struggled and fell through the cracks a couple of times. There was a point in which we had to put her in our backpack to finish the scrambling part. I had thought that the hike in Korea (back in 2023) was the hardest but boy, was I wrong.

And you know what’s even worse? We were running low on water. I was super dehydrated and worried that I would collapse in the middle. Thankfully, we got to the flat part of the trail (eventually…). And just when I had thought the hard part was over, I had to carry myself to the hills. It was the last stretch of the hike adventure.

We got home safe. We gulped gallons of water. Ina got some rest. We slept like a baby.

Next morning, we went to Riverside Church. It was so beautiful. The talented choir sang Handel’s Hallelujah, some people got baptized in water, and importantly, we listened to the great news: He is risen. Nothing more, nothing less. He is here.

Despite all the tribulations, at the end there was peace. Hiking on Saturday was a humbling experience. I felt most connected to God when I was out in nature exhausted–on a full fight-or-flight mode. None of us can ever understand or imagine the pain that Christ had to go through during scourging and at Crucifixion. In fact, it was unimaginably brutal and painful that the word, “excruciating” was born.

And just like what my church used to say… Thanks be to God.

Happy Spring,