Who Am I? by Deitrich Bonhoeffer

Who am I? They often tell me
I stepped from my cell’s confinement
Calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
Like a Squire from his country house.

Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders
Freely and friendly and clearly,
As thought it were mine to command.

Who am I? They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
Equably, smilingly, proudly,
like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
Struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat,
Yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,
Tossing in expectations of great events,
Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
Faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.

Who am I? This or the Other?
Am I one person today and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
And before myself a contemptible woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army
Fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine!

“The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust to them; it was not in them, it only came through them,and what came through them was longing.
These things—the beauty, the memory of our own past—are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself they turn into dumb idols,breaking the hearts of their worshippers.
For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited.”
― C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory

Last week I decided to name my car "Cross-bearer."

One of the things I keep reminding myself is that my strength comes only from God. In many ways my car, if work's based salvation was a thing, deserves to be in heaven more than I am. Without my car, all of my ministries would fail. Like one person in my small group calls me, I am literally a glorified chauffeur: driving Moody or UIC students around, dropping off missionaries at the airport, or taking international students shopping. My car does all the heavy lifting, and even others can drive my car and do ministry with it. I still remember when I was going blind and was in so much fear of driving, or when my car was stolen and subsequently held hostage at the shop, I felt so helpless. I believe God showed me grace and reminded me of my weakness through that. My car is currently my greatest spiritual gift and ministry tool I have in Chicago and I should not squander it.

My Cross-bearer continue to advance the Kingdom and bring Glory to my Father.