Who is in your frame?  

Matthew 6:26 “Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?”  

On a late afternoon drive to Wilmington via the freeway, I stumbled upon a stunning scene behind a rest area. Many tourists were gathered, taking pictures of the breathtaking sunset. Among them were a few professional photographers, carefully setting up their cameras and equipment to capture the beauty of the moment. 

I was fortunate enough to speak with one of the photographers and asked, “What does it take to get that perfect shot?” Expecting an answer like “a good digital camera,” “great lighting,” “a high-definition zoom lens,” or even “excellent editing software,” his response took me by surprise.  “Frame,” he said. “Capturing an image in the right frame, from the right angle, is absolutely essential. It’s the most basic lesson but also the most important for a professional photographer.” 

His words lingered in my mind.   What kind of “frame” do you see in your life?   Is it a frame that truly reflects who you are and what you do?   Or is it a frame that confines you, limiting your faith and potential? 

If your frame imposes limitations, it’s often shaped by the world’s standards—a perspective that seeks superficial achievements and fleeting self-worth.  However, the Lord’s frame is entirely different. He sees beyond the surface, into the depths of your heart and soul. He values every thought, action, and intention, even the smallest ones. In His frame, you are not defined by worldly measures but by His grace and love. 

You are a treasure created in the image of God. Through His eyes, your life holds infinite value, and His frame reveals the true beauty and potential within you. 

As we step into this brand-new year, let us embrace the right frame for our spiritual journey. May our perspective be guided by faith, hope, and love in Christ, allowing us to see ourselves and others through the lens of God’s grace and purpose. 

 The True Forgiver  

Psalm 139: 3-5 “You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O LORD, you know it altogether. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.”  

Last week, my brother and I had a long conversation on Zoom. We hadn’t spoken since the beginning of the year, so it was wonderful to catch up, thanks to the marvels of modern technology! In fact, we hadn’t had a meaningful, extended talk like this in several years.  

During our conversation, I realized that something had been weighing heavily on my brother for a long time—a burden he had been carrying in his heart. It was about my relationship with our family in Korea. He had wanted to bring it up before but avoided doing so, not wanting to stir conflict. Instead, it lingered in his heart for years.  He expressed that he had felt a sense of responsibility and obligation to the family since he was there, while I was not. 

At first, his words stung, and I felt offended. But as I listened, I understood where he was coming from. I sincerely apologized for my ignorance and insensitivity to his feelings and the load he had been carrying. My brother, being the kind and humble person he is, accepted my apology, and we reconciled.  

However, after our conversation, I realized that a single apology might not fully address the hurt caused. True forgiveness often takes time and sincerity. To genuinely seek forgiveness from someone, we must: 

 • Allow ourselves to feel the pain of what the other person has lost and endured.   • Reflect on the steps that led to their sorrow.  • Try to grasp the depth of their suffering.  When we take these steps, our request for forgiveness becomes more authentic.  

But can we truly feel the same level of pain the other person has experienced?  Can we fully comprehend the years of agony they may have endured emotionally, physically, or psychologically? 

 Can we find someone who has gone through exactly what we have, so they can truly understand our side of the story?  

The answer to these questions is often no. 

That’s why we must turn to the Lord.  Our Lord knows us better than anyone else ever could. He understands our hearts, our motives, and our struggles—far beyond what even we can comprehend. Jesus has known us not just for a moment, but since before we were born. He is the only one who can see us entirely and deeply understand why we did what we did.  

This is why we need to meet with Him daily, sharing our hearts and confessing our experiences. Jesus is our true forgiver, comforter, and Savior. And when He, who knows us fully, says, “You are forgiven,” we can find peace and restoration.  

Key Prayer    

1 Tim. 2:1 "First of all, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people."  

 I parked my car in a public lot in Mason and walked to a nearby bakery. As I glanced down, I noticed a keychain resting on the structure that separated the pedestrian walkway from the driveway. It was nestled among the plants and bushes, making it barely visible. It was clear that someone had lost it.  

Picking up the keys, I looked around to see if anyone was searching for them. Just then, a couple with an infant walked toward me, scanning the pavement anxiously. The wife rummaged through her bag while holding the baby, her frustration growing with every empty search.  I was certain the keys belonged to them. Holding them up, I asked, “Are these yours?”  Their relief was immediate. They had feared the worst, unsure of what they would do without them—one of the keys was for their rental car, and they were on their way to the airport. The husband grasped my hands, thanking me repeatedly. “You saved my life today,” he said. “I’ve never been more grateful to see my keys.”  

Afterward, in the bakery, I pulled out my own keys from my backpack and made sure they were all accounted for. As I sipped my coffee, I realized how significant each one was.  

• My car key—essential for my daily travels. I prayed, “Thank you for providing me with this car and for keeping me safe on the road.” • The key to Susan’s mother’s house—I prayed for her health.  • The key to my home in LA—I prayed for my family who lives there. • The key to my current place—I prayed for safety and comfort in my home.  

An old Korean saying came to mind: “The darkest spot is right under the lamp.” It means that what we seek is often right next to us, yet we fail to notice it.  

Keys are designed to secure what is valuable, yet we rarely pay attention to them because they are always with us. Perhaps, instead of overlooking them, we can let them serve as reminders—reminders to pray for the people and places they connect us to. 

 So today, let’s take a moment to look at our keys. Let’s not miss the opportunity to pray for those they represent.  

Peek Through  

Psalm 3:5-6 I lay down and slept; I awoke, for the Lord sustained me. I will not be afraid of tens of thousands of people who have set themselves against me all around. 

There was a night, long ago, when the weight of worry settled upon my heart like a heavy mist. My youngest son, Logan, lay weak from illness, his tiny body exhausted from days of restless struggle. Each meal was met with rejection, each attempt at comfort met with helpless tears. In those long hours, my wife and I bore the ache of uncertainty, longing for relief, praying for rest.     Then, at last, came hope. The doctor’s remedy, a simple vial of medicine, brought a quiet miracle. That night, for the first time in days, Logan slept. Peace, fragile yet profound, filled our home. And yet, even in that stillness, my heart would not let me rest. A quiet whisper urged me forward, leading me to his room. 

I did not enter. I did not dare disturb the rest that had come at such a cost. Instead, I stood in the hush of the doorway, peering in through the dim glow of the night. There, in the soft rhythm of his breathing, I found solace. 

For ten long minutes, I stood a silent sentinel, watching, waiting, ensuring that all was well. He did not know I was there, and he could not feel my presence. Yet my love, unwavering and watchful, wrapped around him like a silent embrace. And in that moment, I understood something deeper. 

Is this not the way of God? Is this not how He lingers near, unseen but ever-present? 

We journey through life, at times wandering through valleys of solitude, feeling abandoned in the vast wilderness of our struggles. Yet, just beyond the threshold of our knowing, He stands—watching, waiting, ensuring that we are not alone. 

He does not force His way in, nor does He startle us with sudden revelation. Instead, He remains near, steady and sure, offering His quiet, relentless care. 

His love is not distant. It is not conditional. It is not momentary. It is the love of a Father who delights in His children, who longs for closeness, who watches not out of duty, but out of deep, abiding affection. And in the hush of the night, in the stillness of our unspoken prayers, His presence remains—faithful, watchful, everlasting.   

Christ is Our Only Light  

Romans 7:22-25 

22 For in my inner being I delight in God's law; 23 but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. 24 What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? 25 Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord! 

The book The Shadow by Hans Christian Andersen, written in 1847, explores the concept of a person as an intrinsic being who coexists with a dark side. Andersen suggests that without this dark side, one might lose the essence of existence. To be clear, this is not a reference to the well-known sci-fi theme of “light and dark forces.” 

The story itself is simple yet profound. A man had a shadow that followed his every movement, but one day, they became separated. Years later, the lost shadow returned and remained with him. Over time, the shadow grew wealthier and more powerful, while the man became weaker. Eventually, the roles reversed—the man found himself following the shadow. When he began courting a princess, the shadow, too, desired her. In the end, in order to marry the princess, the shadow had the man killed. 

This tale can be interpreted in various ways, but my reflection focuses on the nature of human existence. The authenticity of the self cannot be completely separated from its inherent darkness. As human beings, we struggle with and confront our sinfulness. 

 Yet, we cannot escape our darkness by our own efforts. We need Christ, the Messiah, who alone can set us free. His light shines upon the weak, the vulnerable, and those burdened by their own depravity or immorality. He alone has the power to separate us from the darkness. 

Hans Christian Andersen once said, “The purpose of light is for a shadow and darkness.” This statement speaks to the reality of human nature. We are in need of the Lord, whose light pierces through our darkness and brings true freedom.  

When wind rises up...  

Psalm 78:26  "He causes the east wind to blow in the heavens and by his power he directs the south wind." 

 Last week, a snowstorm swept across the Midwest, bringing heavy snow and powerful gusts of wind that battered trees and crops. It had been a long time since I experienced weather like that. On TV, I saw scenes of fallen trees and blizzards overwhelming homes. Watching the destruction, I began to wonder: how do tall, strong trees endure such harsh conditions? Wouldn’t the powerful winds and snow eventually weaken their roots and branches, halting their growth?  

The following day, I gained a new perspective that surprised me. While listening to a radio program, a gardener shared an insightful lesson about trees. Every tree needs three essential elements to grow: water, sunlight, and something unexpected—wind.  When the wind blows, it shakes the roots of the tree, which actually strengthens it by helping the roots absorb more nutrients and water from the soil. Trees that grow with wind are healthier and more resilient than those shielded from it.  

Hearing this, I began to see a deeper spiritual truth. Just as trees need wind to grow, God often allows challenging and unfavorable events in our lives for a purpose. These moments shake us, stirring our understanding of His word and aligning it with where it’s most needed. 

Difficult seasons strip away distractions and help us focus on what God is saying to us.  It may feel like hardships slow us down in our walk with God, but over time, they deepen our faith and draw us closer to Him.

Difficult seasons strip away distractions and help us focus on what God is saying to us.  It may feel like hardships slow us down in our walk with God, but over time, they deepen our faith and draw us closer to Him.

Does the wind seem to be rustling through your life right now? Perhaps this is the moment God is using to strengthen your faith and raise you up.  

Mind the Gap

Psalm 29:4 “The voice of the Lord is powerful; The voice of the Lord is full of majesty.”  

A subway station employee in England noticed a woman frequently visiting Embankment Station. She would sit quietly in the same spot for hours, never boarding a train, and then leave. 

One day, she approached the employee and mentioned that she no longer heard the familiar audible warning, "Mind the gap." The employee explained that the old announcement had been replaced with a new digital voice after many years.  

The woman, Margaret McCollum, paused for a moment before sharing her story. Margaret, 67 years old, had met her husband, Oswald Laurence, 44 years ago at this station. Oswald, a theater actor with a beautiful voice, had recorded the original "Mind the gap" announcement. He passed away in 2007, and since then, Margaret had often visited the station to hear his voice, feeling his presence each time the announcement played. She asked if there was any way she could hear her husband’s voice again.  The employee shared Margaret's story with the Northern Line Company, and in response, the railway company decided to restore Oswald's voice at Embankment Station. They also provided Margaret with a digital copy of the recording, allowing her to hear her husband's voice whenever she wanted.  

The story of Margaret reminds us that we should often pause ourselves and listen to the Lord. Amid our busy schedules, we are called to create quiet moments to feel Christ’s presence around and within us.   

While we cannot hear the Lord’s audible voice as people once did, we have his spiritual recording" preserved in the Scriptures. This voice becomes accessible only to those who truly seek and love him.  

 By patiently waiting for him in the stillness of life, we open ourselves to experiencing his presence and knowing that he is with us.  

Prayer of Emptiness  

 Phi 2:7,8 “But emptied himself, taking the form of a slave…therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name.”  

A few weeks ago, my wife and kids were on a flight to Los Angeles. Susan, my wife, was sitting right behind the boys, and next to her were an elderly couple. She struck up a conversation with them, and the wife mentioned that they take a trip around the world once a year. They were originally from Iceland and had traveled extensively. They had just spent a few weeks in New York and were now heading to England for their next stop.   

Curious, Susan asked the wife, “You must have learned so much and brought back so many souvenirs from your travels, right?” But the wife’s response was unexpected. She said they didn’t travel to learn or collect things. Instead, the purpose of their journey was to empty their hearts. As they visited new places, they let go of negative thoughts, anxieties, and hatred. By the end of their trip, they returned home with a peaceful mind and a sense of true emptiness—free from burdens and filled with inexplicable peace.  

This made me think: Shouldn’t our prayers be like that? Shouldn’t we approach God with the goal of emptying our hearts?   Often, when we pray or spend quiet time with God, we’re eager to hear His response or see a miraculous sign in our lives. We want Him to solve our problems or give us clear answers. And when it feels like God is silent or not answering, we get frustrated. We might even wonder if He’s listening at all.   But here’s the thing: Is God really silent, or are we just too full of ourselves to hear Him?   Expecting good things from God is important, but first, we need to empty ourselves—our worries, stubbornness, self-reliance, and pride. When we let go of these things, we become humble and moldable. Only then can God refill us with His peace, His Spirit, and His hope.   So, let’s start by emptying our hearts. When we do, God will fill us with His inexplicable peace  

Restore Your Original Color

1 Peter 4:10 “ Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.  

I wear an old pair of shoes, a gift from my sister long ago. Their soles, once strong, now whisper with wear, edges scuffed, creases deep, telling stories only time knows. The leather, kissed by wind and rain, has lost its glow. And weary laces fray like memories unraveling in the air. 

And yet, these shoes remain my dearest treasure. It was a gift from my sister, who toiled for weeks, 

two decades past, with love beyond measure, her kindness woven in each thread and crease. I feel her warmth with every step.  

So I took them to a craftsman’s care, hoping he could breathe new life into their faded form. 

Two weeks passed, and I returned—And there, before me, stood a miracle. No longer tired, no longer worn, but shining, as if time had reversed its course. Astonished, I said, “You have made them new!” 

But with a quiet smile, he replied, “I did not make them new; I merely restored their color.” 

His words echoed within me, like the voice of Paul long ago—A truth not of leather and thread, but of the soul and the gifts God bestows. For within each of us, a treasure lies, a grace already given, a light already placed. Love, kindness, endurance, and truth—Not things to earn, nor prizes to chase, but jewels already set within the heart. 

But God does not ask for something new, nor does He call us to become another. He whispers instead, “Come back to yourself, To the one I crafted with care, To the gifts I have already placed within you.” 

Not a new creation, but a restoration—Not a different hue, but the true color beneath. 

So let the dust be lifted, let the light shine, And step forward, not as someone else, 

But as the masterpiece you were always meant to be. In this, you will feel the warmth of Divine love, the gentle hands that formed you, the heart that cherishes you still.

The Solitude of the Trail 

Matthew 4:1 Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness 

The founder of Samsung Electronics once said, “Walking a quiet trail solves every problem.” 

On such paths, he built his empire, stepping away from the noise to walk alone. In that stillness, his mind found room to wander, and clarity emerged like dawn through mist. He was my inspiration to start hiking alone. 

Recently, I discovered Wilmington holds seven trails, each a quiet ribbon, woven through the land. 

More astonishing still, these paths were dreamed by Presbyterian pioneers—one, Bruce Saunder. 

Where others saw abandoned railways, rusted metal, and forgotten debris, they saw the promise of renewal, a gift for both body and soul. 

Lent, too, is a journey—a lonely one. The path Christ walked before embracing His mission, a wilderness trail where silence reigned, and shadows stretched long in the deepening dusk. No torch to light His way, no voice to call Him back, only solitude. 

To others, Lent may seem a burden, an obsession with physical distress. But for those who know the Lord, it is a time of spiritual renewal, a season of quiet transformation. 

What thoughts filled His mind in that empty space? 

Did He chart His course in the dust beneath His feet. 

In forty days of silence, Jesus did not rest. His identity as the Son of God burned within Him. A light that withstood the shadow of temptation. His hunger sharpened His spiritual clarity, drawing Him closer to the truth of who He was. 

Lent is such a time for us. 

We, too, are wanderers—broken and searching. But within us lies the divine imprint, waiting to be rediscovered. So we walk this spiritual trail alone, not to escape, but to return. 

 To remember. 

To find, in the quiet rhythm of our steps, 

The truth of who we are.

Dirty Cash 

Phil 5:15 “So that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe.”   

The scent of frying oil clung to the air, wrapping itself around every surface, every breath. 

Shrimp, fish, and chicken crackled in golden heat, their aroma sinking into my clothes, my skin. 

As I waited for my meal, I overheard a conversation—a mother, a son, and a handful of bills. 

She reached into the cash drawer, pulling out his allowance, but he hesitated, wrinkling his nose. 

“Mom, these smell like oil and chicken. Do you have cleaner ones?” 

 With a gentle smile, she placed the bills in his hand. 

“They may smell bad, they may look dirty, but their value never changes.” 

And isn’t that the truth of life? 

We come from different roads, some smooth, some cracked and broken. Some carry burdens of the past, scars invisible but heavy. 

Yet no stain, no sorrow, no struggle can lessen the worth of who we are. 

You are a child of God— 

not defined by the marks of yesterday, 

not diminished by the weight of the world. 

No matter what clings to you, 

no matter how you feel, 

your value in His eyes is unshaken, unchanging, everlasting. 

So walk with confidence, 

not in what the world sees, 

but in what God declares: 

You are precious. You are loved. You are His.