Who Am I?
The title of today’s message comes
from a poem called Who Am I? written
by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German pastor during World War II. Bonhoeffer joined
the resistance movement and even took part in a plot to overthrow Hitler. He
was arrested, imprisoned, and executed just weeks before the war ended.
While in prison, Bonhoeffer wrestled with identity. In his poem he describes two pictures of himself. On the outside, others saw him as calm, strong, and unshaken. But on the inside, he felt anxious, restless, lonely, and afraid. He wondered, “Which one is the real me?” In the end, he didn’t find peace by solving the question, but by confessing in faith: “Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am Thine.”
Bonhoeffer didn’t define himself by outward appearance or inward feeling, but by belonging to God. He humbly embraced the tension of those two conflicting self-images and gave himself wholly to God. In the same way, if we are honest, all of us wrestle with identity. Who am I? Am I who others say I am? Or am I who I know myself to be inside? In truth, life is a journey of “becoming.”
Conversion
This morning we heard two scripture
readings: Paul’s conversion story and Paul’s call story. My prayer is that
Paul’s story may echo in our own lives—that by God’s grace our hearts may be
stirred, transformed, and drawn closer to Christ.
Let’s start with conversion. In the Book of Acts, Paul’s conversion story is told three times. Paul was a devout Pharisee, zealous for the law. He believed he was serving God by persecuting Christians. But on the road to Damascus, everything changed. He met the risen Christ, and his world turned upside down. His direction in life was completely changed.
That’s what conversion means: to turn around, to change direction. Conversion is a defining moment when we encounter not just “a God,” but “my God”—my personal Jesus. John Wesley called it the new birth, when we are given a new heart by the Holy Spirit.
I still vividly remember my own conversion. It was the year 2000, and I was serving in East Timor as part of the UN Peacekeeping Forces. Spiritually, it was a wilderness. There was no church, no mentors, just temptation and sin all around. God gave me a mission: to start a Christian club and hold Sunday services. But like Jonah, I ran. I resisted.
Then I got sick. I was struck with Dengue Fever—a dangerous disease. My body burned with high fever; rashes covered me. I could not eat or sleep. I was delirious. I knew I was walking through the valley of death. That night, kneeling on my camp bed, I cried out to God: “Lord, if You save my life, I will humbly serve You with all my heart, for the rest of my life.” Peace came. I slept. And the next morning, the fever was gone, the rashes disappeared. I leapt out of bed like a calf released from its stall. I was alive—healed both physically and spiritually.
From that day, everything changed. For the first time, I read the Bible cover to cover—not because I had to, but because I wanted to. And in those pages, I met the living Christ. Since then, I’ve never been the same. My heart, my affections, and my life’s purpose were changed.
Journey of Calling
But conversion is just the
beginning. When we are converted, we begin to realize that we are created in
Christ for good works, to join Him in His mission (Eph. 2:10). That’s our
calling.
For Paul, his calling was revealed at the very moment of his conversion. Jesus said: “Get up and stand on your feet; for I have appeared to you for this purpose… to serve and testify… to open their eyes so that they may turn from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God” (Acts 26:16–18, NRSV). Paul was called to bring people back to Christ.
Some of us receive our calling early, while others take years to discover it. Either way, calling is a journey. Even Paul, though called early, spent his whole life discerning, wrestling, and reshaping his call. We see it in the thirteen letters he wrote. Over thirty years, we watch his heart soften, deepen, and widen.
In his early letters (Galatians, 1 Corinthians), Paul comes across sharp, defensive—fighting for truth and being “right.” In the middle letters (Romans, Philippians), Paul is still deeply theological but more pastoral, joyful. In the later letters (Philemon, 2 Timothy), old Paul is tender, fatherly, centered in love. He still stands firm in truth, but his focus is love.
Take his relationship with Mark as
an example. In Acts 15, Paul refused to take Mark on a mission trip because he
had deserted them before. The disagreement with Barnabas was sharp. But later
in 2 Timothy 4:11, Paul says: “Get Mark and bring him with you, for he is
helpful to me in my ministry.” That shows growth—humility, reconciliation,
love. Paul’s journey was moving from being “right” to being “loving.”
From Being Right to Being Loving
This has also been my journey.
Joyce and I are now in our twelfth year here in Aroostook County. But when I
first arrived in 2014, I carried the mindset I had grown up with in Seoul. In
my culture, worth was measured by effectiveness—by
how much impact you could make. Effectiveness became my idol. So my first goal
was to shake things up: fix the church, change the community, do something big
for Jesus. In short, I was focused on being “right.”
But it didn’t go well. After three years, I felt stuck. The church struggled. My sense of self-worth sank, because I thought my ministry wasn’t effective. By God’s grace, I attended a conference in Georgia. There the Spirit gave me one word: abide. I realized I hadn’t truly abided among the people. Jesus did not come just to fix us. He came to make His home among us (John 1:14). He lived among us, loved us, and gave Himself for us even while we were still sinners. That love melts the heart. And I heard God’s gentle whisper: “You are not called to change, but to abide. To be present. To love people as they are.” That changed me. My calling shifted from being right to being loving, from being effective to simply helping people fall in love with Christ.
The Pineapple Story
There’s a story about a missionary
in Dutch New Guinea who planted 100 pineapple plants. After three years, when
they finally ripened, the natives stole every single one. Angry, the missionary
tried everything—cutting off the clinic, closing the store, even bringing in a
guard dog. But nothing worked. And meanwhile, the people stopped listening to
him preach.
Finally, broken, he went out to the garden and prayed, “Lord, I’ve claimed these pineapples as mine. I’ve stood up for my rights. But it’s all wrong. From now on, they are Yours. If I eat them, fine. If not, that’s fine too.” The people kept stealing—but this time, he didn’t get angry. After a while, they came to him and said, “Too-wan, you’ve become a Christian, haven’t you? You don’t get angry anymore when we steal your pineapples.” He replied, “The pineapples don’t belong to me anymore. I’ve given them to God.” Suddenly they grew afraid, realizing they were stealing from God. And they stopped. Soon, the missionary and the people shared pineapples together, and many gave their lives to Christ. For years, he had tried to evangelize without success. But when God changed his heart, their hearts began to change too.
It’s a powerful reminder: the more we fall in love with Jesus, the more loving we become. It’s a journey—from being right to being loving.
I Am Thine, O Lord
As a church, we too have been
through much. Over the issue of human sexuality, each church here lost either
members or a pastor. But by the grace of God, we are still here—together—as one
body of Christ.
So who am I? Who are we? What is our calling? Sometimes we struggle with identity and purpose. But Paul’s story gives us the answer. Our hope, our identity, our purpose, our calling—are found in Christ Jesus alone.
Every morning I begin the day with Wesley’s Covenant Prayer:
I am no longer my own, but thine.
Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt.
Put me to doing, put me to suffering.
Let me be employed by thee or laid aside for thee,
exalted for thee or brought low for thee.
Let me be full, let me be empty.
Let me have all things, let me have nothing.
I freely and heartily yield all things to thy pleasure and disposal.
And now, O glorious and blessed God,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
Thou art mine, and I am thine. So be it.
And the covenant which I have made on earth,
let it be ratified in heaven. Amen.
May we keep falling in love with Jesus—again and again, and all the more. Amen.
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