Who Is Leading Whom? 

Matthew 15:14 – “Let them alone; they are blind guides. And if the blind lead the blind, both will fall into a pit.” 

In 2015, the Scientific Report of the Dietary Guidelines Advisory Committee acknowledged something surprising: “No appreciable relationship between consumption of dietary cholesterol and serum cholesterol.” In plain words, eating food high in cholesterol does not directly raise cholesterol levels in the blood. They even stated, “Cholesterol is not a nutrient of concern for overconsumption.” Suddenly, eggs were no longer the enemy. Cholesterol itself was not the cause of heart disease. 

So how did the myth begin? It goes back to Ancel Benjamin Keys (1904–2004). Keys claimed to have studied patients from 22 countries, linking high cholesterol levels to heart disease through diet. Yet the truth was that his conclusions were built on data from only six countries—countries that already had high rates of heart disease regardless of diet. His selective reporting shaped decades of medical advice, convincing people to avoid foods unnecessarily. In fact, since 1961, cholesterol has not even been listed among the seven “dietary sins,” which now include sodium, saturated fat, trans fat, added sugars, refined grains, and excessive alcohol. 

This story shows how easy it is for a misleading interpretation to shape an entire generation, especially when people accept it without question. 

The same thing can happen with Scripture. I have observed many Christians today making bold and controversial claims about politics and international affairs in the name of biblical truth. 

· Some interpret the Bible through a strongly conservative lens. 

· Others through a strongly progressive one. 

But often, when you listen carefully, their arguments are not truly grounded in Scripture itself. Instead, they rely on personal comfort zones or cultural backgrounds, then select verses to support positions they already hold. They have not studied Scripture deeply, but they use fragments of it to reinforce what they already believe. And many follow such teaching as if it were the truth itself. 

Questions That Demand More Than Shallow Answers 

This raises critical questions we must not answer with a few proof-texts or cultural assumptions:  What does Scripture truly say about the relationship between faith and the state?  What about the diversity and identity of human gender?  Is Israel still the uniquely chosen nation of God? If so, can salvation come to them apart from Christ?  Does cremation contradict the biblical promise of bodily resurrection? 

These are not questions that can be answered by sound bites. They require deep study of God’s Word—reading broadly, carefully, and prayerfully. 

If we simply follow selective interpretations or trust popular voices without discernment, we risk becoming exactly what Jesus warned against: the blind leading the blind. The end is a pit. 

But if we submit ourselves to the whole counsel of God’s Word, study it in its fullness, and seek the guidance of the Holy Spirit, then we will be led not by blind guides but by the Light Himself.

Homesick for God 

Genesis 1:27 “So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.”  

A few years ago, when my parents visited from Korea, my mother cooked the spicy beef stew I used to love. I took a big bite, overwhelmed with nostalgia—but it didn’t taste as spicy as I remembered. 

“Mom, I think it’s not that hot,” I said. 

Then, I pulled out a jar of fiery red pepper powder from the cupboard, and added a spoonful to the stew. Then my parents both looked at me and said, “How can you eat something that spicy?” 

“Is it really that hot?” I asked. My father said he couldn’t even stand the smell. 

My mother laughed and said, “Your taste has changed a lot. When you first came to America, you couldn’t handle spicy food, but now you seem to enjoy it more and more.” 

That night, I wondered to myself, 

 Why do I enjoy spicier food as time goes by? 

 There’s a psychological term called “gustatory nostalgia.” 

It describes the longing for cultural experiences of the past—reawakened by certain foods that stir emotional memories. 

The farther we drift from the culture we once belonged to, the more our hearts unconsciously seek to rediscover it. Simply put, it’s a kind of homesickness. 

It’s like hanging old family photos on the wall — reminders of our past and the memories we hold dear. As we gaze at them, we long to hold on to those lingering moments 

When God created us in His image, it wasn’t about physical appearance, for God is invisible and without form. His image within us is the longing to be with Him, the desire to live according to His word, and the faith that hungers to know Him more deeply. That divine image still lives in each of us. So when we feel distant from God, our yearning grows stronger. The world may call it emptiness, but for us, it’s a kind of spiritual nostalgia—a homesickness for God. 

Let us feed on His Word each day and walk in obedience. Then, perhaps, we won’t need everything to be extra spicy all at once.

The Iron and the Word 

 Colossians 2:8 “See to it that no one takes you captive through philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the world, and not according to Christ.” 

My father has many admirable qualities, but one I most want to resemble is the way he irons clothes. He has always ironed for himself and for our family. Even now, he still irons for my mother and himself. His skill is remarkable—he can press any garment so perfectly that not a single wrinkle remains. 

What amazes me even more is that his iron is over thirty years old. It has no steam function, no place to add water, and no temperature control. It stays at one fixed heat, so he uses a damp towel to cool it down when needed. He doesn’t even use an ironing board. Instead, he spreads a towel on the floor, lays the clothes flat, and smooths out every crease by hand. I could never do it like him. I use an expensive iron with automatic steam and temperature settings, yet I can’t match his results. What makes the difference is not the tool, but his patience, calmness, and quiet mastery. 

Our lives hold countless layers of wrinkles. Their depth is shaped by the roads we’ve traveled. Some carry only a few gentle lines, while others bear thick, winding creases that tell of years heavy with sorrow or bright with joy. 

We all try to smooth them out. 

Some turn to exercise, take long walks, or go fishing. Others dance, climb mountains, or study harder, hoping to reach a higher place in the world. 

But can these efforts truly unfold the wrinkles of life—those visible and invisible traces left deep within our souls? 

So today again, I open the Scriptures in silence. 

In the stillness, I listen. What I need most is not another method or means, but the gentle word of God. With patience, I read and wait—trusting that His hands, steady and kind, will one day smooth the creases of my life, just as my father’s old iron quietly restores beauty to a wrinkled cloth. 

Snow—Is It Winter? 

I thought it was still autumn. 

I wanted to enjoy the season— 

to take a quiet drive down a beautiful road lined with fall colors. 

But yesterday morning, snow began to fall. Is it winter already? 

Before I could fully savor autumn, winter had arrived. 

Perhaps snow alone doesn’t mean winter has come. 

Meteorologists and scholars may have other ways to mark the seasons. 

Yet for most people, snow means one thing— 

winter has begun. 

We rush to face the cold unprepared, 

digging through storage for hats, gloves, and snow boots 

buried deep since last year. 

Long ago, people welcomed Jesus in a similar season— 

a cold and unexpected one. 

No one foresaw the time or the manner of His coming. 

No one imagined their Messiah would arrive 

quietly, humbly, 

seen only by a small family and a few shepherds. 

The form of His coming was never the point, 

nor the moment He realized who He was. 

What matters is this: 

the Son of God came. 

That truth cannot be denied. 

Even if we are unprepared, 

we must still receive Him. 

Snow and the coming of the Messiah share something in common— 

we never know exactly when they will come. 

But when they do, 

everything changes. 

The Son of God has come to you— 

perhaps not when or how you expected— 

but He has come, 

and He changes everything. 

Maybe He has been changing you all along. 

This winter, 

let us truly welcome Christ again.

Thankfulness Hidden in Plain Sight 

Last week, Ted sent me a picture he took from his backyard at night. 

At first glance, it looked like an aurora—soft waves of light stretching across the sky, the kind of beauty that makes you pause without knowing why. It was a rare sight, something that appeared briefly across parts of the nation, and then vanished as quietly as it came. 

While staring at that picture, I found myself wondering what the most beautiful natural scene on Earth might be. And surprisingly, it wasn’t a rare aurora, or a distant waterfall, or a mountain peak hidden in clouds. It was something far simpler: the moon lighting up the quiet night,  the stars scattered like prayers across the sky,  and the gentle glow of a sunset slipping behind the horizon. 

These are gifts only Earth receives, and yet we rarely call them the greatest beauties of our lives. Perhaps it’s because they are always there—so familiar, so close, that we forget how miraculous they are. 

When something is always beside us, its value fades in our eyes. 

In Korean we have a saying: 등잔 밑이 어둡다—“the base of the lamp is the darkest.” The brightest light often hides what is closest. 

Maybe our lives are the same. Maybe God’s blessings lie right at our feet, but we overlook them because they are steady, faithful, always present. In this season of gratitude, I began noticing my own unseen blessings. 

Many pastors I know share a small office with others, or work beside a noisy road, unable to find a quiet place to pray or study. And yet here I am—with a peaceful office where I can breathe, think, and meet God without interruption. What a quiet, hidden gift. 

Not long ago, Susan had a car accident. Thank God, she walked away unharmed. And the insurance company gave her a rental—a brand-new car with unlimited miles. Because of that, she can drive the long hours to see Jayden every week without worry, and with a little joy in her heart. That, too, is a blessing I could have easily missed. 

Some church members kindly invited me into their home for Thanksgiving. I felt bad for not being able to go. But even the invitation itself—this gesture of welcome—reminds me that grace often comes through the doors others open for us. If I were not a pastor, perhaps those doors wouldn’t open so easily. And so I am thankful. 

And in our church, there are members whose bodies are tired and fragile. Yet their hearts remain strong, full of faith, full of love for the church and their family in Christ. Even in weakness, they give strength to others. What a holy, humble blessing that is. 

When I look back at all of this, I realize something: God’s greatest gifts are not always dramatic. They are often quiet, steady, close, so close that we walk past them every day and never notice. 

But when we pause—just long enough to look— we begin to see what the lamp’s base had been hiding: the small mercies, the unnoticed graces, the gentle presence of God woven into our ordinary days. 

Sometimes the deepest thanksgiving is simply opening our eyes to what has been beside us all along.

Because of the Holy Spirit 

 1 Corinthians 12:3 “Therefore I want you to understand that no one speaking by the Spirit of God ever says, ‘Let Jesus be cursed!’ and no one can say ‘Jesus is Lord’ except by the Holy Spirit.” 

Not long ago, I went to an optician for an eye exam. 

There, I overheard a father and his young son talking—a brief exchange that stayed with me long after I left. The boy, about preschool age, was already wearing glasses. He had taken them off for a moment while choosing new frames, then put them back on and blinked, surprised by what he saw. 

“Dad, with these on, I can see the cars far away!” 

He had already come to feel that his glasses were a part of himself—something inseparable, almost invisible in its closeness. 

Faith works like that. 

Our confession that God is real and that Jesus is His Son is not something we can do by our own will. Look around: many of our friends or family who don’t believe are still kind, moral, and deeply respected people. Yet to confess Christ as Savior—that is not easy. 

So why can we? 

Why do we keep coming to church every week, offering our time and hearts to serve? 

Because it is the Holy Spirit of Christ within us who moves us, who awakens what we could never awaken ourselves. Without the Spirit Jesus promised, none of us could truly confess an unseen Christ or follow His quiet, demanding way. 

And if someone were to ask, 

“How do you know the Spirit of Christ lives in you?” 

We could answer, simply and surely: 

“I confess Jesus Christ as my Lord.” 

That confession itself—is the whisper of the Spirit breathing within.

The Chain of Love 

Genesis 2:15-17 Then the Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to tend and keep it. 16 And the Lord God commanded the man, saying, “Of every tree of the garden you may freely eat; 17 but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die.” 

I often go to a small local restaurant for lunch or dinner. Usually, I sit at the bar—watching TV, eating quietly, sometimes talking with a stranger nearby. 

One evening, a father and his young son sat next to me. The little boy kept glancing at me, smiling, and offering his french-fries. I couldn’t resist the generosity of that tiny hand. His father laughed and said, “My boy somehow loves you.” 

I answered with a grin, “He knows I’m hungry.” 

That small act of kindness reminded me of a familiar saying: 

There are three things you cannot resist—a sneeze, a yawn, and falling in love. 

If you’re human, these simply happen. They continue to happen. 

But love—unlike sneezing or yawning—can be broken. 

The story of Adam and Eve should not be seen merely as disobedience to God’s command. That view is too shallow. The Creator’s sorrow was not only that they ate the forbidden fruit. It was that they broke the chain of love that once bound them to Him. When we focus only on the act of eating the apple, we fail to see the depth of the Creator’s love behind His command. 

At the heart of God’s instruction was not restriction, 

but love—so deep, so mysterious, that no human could fully understand it. Even when we cannot grasp His ways, God desires that we keep loving Him, keep following Him. 

So we must pause and ask: 

At the center of all that happens in our lives, 

Does our love for God still remain? 

Do we truly love Him? 

Are we ready to obey His word? 

This is not merely a matter of choice. It is the question of our very being. All human troubles, in one way or another, may come down to this one thing—our love for God. 

Who Would You Be Now? 

1 Corinthians 15:10 – “But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me was not without effect.” 

Last summer, I began tending the church garden almost by accident. 

At first, it was simply to make it easier for the preschool kids to play outside. 

But as I worked, something changed. What began as cleaning soon turned into joy—a desire not just to be tidy, but to make a garden beautiful. 

A few church members brought me tools and showed me how to use them. 

One member approached me one day, teaching me the names of the flowers and how to care for them. Almost every day, she told me how to keep the trees, grass, and blossoms alive and growing strong. 

Then one morning, she brought a tomato plant. 

“Plant it yourself,” she said. 

To be honest, I didn’t even know tomatoes grew on vines. 

I had thought they came out of the ground like potatoes. 

“I’ve never done this before,” I told her. 

She smiled and said, “That’s because you hadn't met someone like me.” 

That summer, the tomatoes thrived. Susan and I really enjoyed picking the delicious cherry tomatoes. 

I sometimes wonder— 

What would my life be like if I had never met Jesus? 

What experiences would be missing? 

If I had never come to church because of Him, who would my companions be today? 

Would I have met these dear people anywhere else? 

It’s hard to imagine. 

Without Jesus, my life… I cannot picture it. 

I sit behind the church, in the small garden, 

contemplating His works of beauty. 

And I think of all the people I have met— 

those from the past and those I meet today— 

each one a gift I encountered through Jesus. 

Because of them, I am who I am today. 

All of this is possible because I met Jesus. 

Without Him, where would I find such beauty? 

Without the Lord— 

Where would you be now? 

Who would you be now?

Academic Lesson : Holding Jesus again - A New Renaissance 

1 Peter 2:24  “He Himself bore our sins in His body on the tree… by His wounds you have been healed.” 

Among Michelangelo’s major works, one stands out with particular poignancy: the unfinished sculpture The Florentine Pietà (also known as The Deposition, c. 1555). 

This piece depicts a scene drawn from Scripture—the body of the crucified Jesus being held by Nicodemus. 

Nicodemus was a member of the Sanhedrin, a traditionally educated Jew deeply rooted in the religious establishment. His actions in this scene would have carried significant social and political risk. All the disciples had fled, yet he stepped forward publicly and took the body of Jesus into his arms. 

What demands our attention in this sculpture, however, is the face of Nicodemus. 

Michelangelo carved his own self-portrait into the figure. 

It is Michelangelo himself holding the broken body of Christ. 

This work captures the very essence of the Renaissance spirit. It represents the meeting of God and humanity—a meeting that takes place in the midst of human suffering, not apart from it. 

Here we do not see Christ solely as the divine Son of God, but as the deeply human Jesus who suffered and sacrificed. And we see Him held by another frail, sorrow-marked human being. Michelangelo’s own face appears worn, sorrowful, and humble—the very posture Renaissance humanism sought to express. 

This is a sculpted confession of faith: 

that God knows human pain, 

and that through human struggle and anguish, we also strain toward the grace of God. 

It is not merely humanity interpreted through God, but God recognized in the raw, agonized reality of human life. 

This raises a pressing question for our own time: 

From what perspective do we now look upon God? 

Do we still trust the purpose for which Christ offered Himself for humanity? 

We live in an age defined by: 

increasingly complex scientific and metaphysical questions,  competing ideological frameworks,  identities shaped—and sometimes distorted—by social pressures,  and pervasive feelings of relative deprivation. 

In the midst of these, 

Where do we stand? 

Are we truly close to God? 

Where does Jesus stand in the midst of all this? 

How are we to navigate our present crisis through the principles of Scripture? 

Perhaps what we need today is a new Renaissance. 

Because within our grand church buildings, and beneath the flood of religious printings and digital media poured out every day, we often lose our way. 

Where is Jesus now?

Nothing between 

Ephesians 2:14 "For he himself is our peace, who has made the two groups one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility." 

A few days ago, a friend sent me a photo from his trip to Greece — a picture of the Parthenon. 

Of course, I’ve seen it countless times on TV and in books, but seeing it through the lens of a close friend made it feel startlingly real, almost as if I were standing there myself. 

I called him right away. As we talked about the Parthenon, I asked him when the temple is most beautiful — sunrise, perhaps, or at sunset when the sky glows gold? 

But his answer surprised me. 

“The best time,” he said, “is when there’s no one between me and the temple.” 

He explained that the Parthenon is never truly empty. People from all over the world come to see it, and it’s rare to find the temple standing alone. 

But when that moment comes — when nothing stands between him and those ancient pillars — the grandeur of the place becomes almost overwhelming. In the open space between his eyes and the temple, he can finally feel its weight, its beauty, its power. 

There is a wall that once stood between God and humanity — a wall built not by God, but by us. 

It was a wall of laws, rituals, and endless rules. 

People believed those things would help them honor God, but instead they became barriers. 

The law became heavy, the guilt became heavier, and people found themselves unable to draw near to the One who loved them. 

That is why Christ came. 

He tore down the wall between God and us. 

So I ask myself — what still stands between God and me today? 

Is it sin I haven’t confessed? 

Is it a strict, joyless sense of religion that keeps my heart distant? 

Jesus carried all of that — every barrier, every burden — upon His shoulders. 

And on the cross, He removed them. 

Now, between God and us, nothing remains. 

Nothing but open space. 

And in that open space, we can finally see His greatness — 

and we can go to Him, freely, at any moment.