Next to the parsonage runs a highway called Sunrise Highway. During rush hour, countless cars pass by, and because our children’s school lies across it, we also meet that stream of traffic every morning and evening.
True to its name, the highway glows each morning with waves of brilliant sunlight rising from the east. As I watch the long line of cars pouring out to begin a new day, I sense God’s gentle blessing over the diligence and faithfulness of people striving toward their life’s goals.
A radiant new year has dawned—announcing a fresh beginning for our lives. Just as we take the wheel and head toward our daily destinations, we have now entered the “Highway of the New Year, 1996.” We make plans, check our direction, and do our best to find the road of happiness, all while hoping for a smoother, safer journey ahead. Perhaps this is the quiet expectation we all carry into a new year.
As for me, I also welcomed the year with many hopes, plans, and thoughts about new beginnings. Yet I found myself wondering: What can I expect or plan when I cannot suddenly become a different person just because a new year has come? Even so, something rises from deep within my soul—a desire to become “the fragrance of Christ” and to live this year more beautifully and meaningfully.
Human thoughts may seem grand, yet they often collapse into foolishness. Truth itself shifts with the times. Even our discernment and judgment can change depending on circumstances. Our courage in the face of the unknown can turn into cowardice. And as if change were natural, even the objects of our love can shift with time.
But there is a fragrance that does not change—though the sun rises and sets, though people come and go. God has placed His wisdom within our souls so that we may fill every corner of life with light, resolve, and love. He invites us to paint the canvas of our days with His transparent beauty, His fragrance, and His radiant light.
A few weeks ago, I visited Korean youth inside a prison and learned something important. The pastor asked them, “If the warden announced that all your crimes were forgiven and you could walk out of this prison right now, is there anyone who would choose to stay?” Every face brightened—they all said they would leave immediately.
Then he asked again, “But if you walk out with the same desires and resentments you carry now, will you truly be able to live as free people?” At that question, their faces sank back into worry and darkness.
Tomorrow is something sacred and holy.
— Yoon Wan‑Hee, June 16, 1997









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