© Yoon Wan-Hee, 1996

One day, I had a brief experience of how fragile I truly am. That day, my mind was blank — no inspiration, no motivation, and nothing seemed interesting. Even sitting still felt difficult, so I simply rested my head on the desk, listening only to my own breath. Then, as I tried to move my arm, a thought struck me — “Why does my body feel so heavy?” and then another, “Yes, I am nothing but dust.” That sad realization overwhelmed me.

I asked myself, “If I am this powerless now, what strength have I been living on all this time?” Suddenly, my past days seemed miraculous — all those times I ran, laughed, and cried from morning till night. “What have I been doing all along?” No matter how I thought about it, I could not deny that it wasn’t by my own strength that I lived. I had to admit that my thoughts and ways had been so narrow, bound tightly by my own small understanding and pride. Yet even so, it is a truly amazing miracle that the Holy Spirit dwells within me — lifting me up as a temple of God.

A few years ago, my family and I drove about 3,000 miles from New York to Walt Disney World in Florida. In the blazing summer heat, we experienced the world’s most magnificent human-made wonder — filled with colors, creativity, and fantasy. We spent a week seeing, feeling, touching, and enjoying it all. Yet after all the expense and hardship, strangely, nothing lasting remained in my heart. The memories of what I saw and did faded like a distant picture.

But during the journey, we stayed one night at a beautiful campground in Smoky Mountains surrounded by nature. The sounds of the stream and wind, the echoing songs of birds, the sweetness of the water, the chill of the creek we waded through, and the stars glittering like jewels in the night sky — all of it left a deep, holy affection in my soul. In that moment, I felt the breath of God hidden in nature. The peace and joy born there have remained alive in me, shaping who I am today. The joy found in Disneyland was momentary, but the inspiration and peace from God’s creation continue to live within me.

One early morning, another wave of spiritual weariness came upon me. Even the privilege of being in the sanctuary at dawn had become routine — my prayers were passionless. Then, deep within, I heard a sighing voice: “Gain strength! Spread your wings like an eagle soaring into the heavens!” I cried out, “I want to be strong! I want to fly! But my wings will not open anymore!”

Then the message from Psalm 124 was proclaimed from the pulpit:

“If it had not been the Lord who was on our side—when men rose up against us,
then they would have swallowed us alive;
the waters would have overwhelmed us,
the torrent would have gone over our soul.
Blessed be the Lord, who has not given us as prey to their teeth!
Our soul has escaped as a bird from the snare of the fowlers;
the snare is broken, and we have escaped.
Our help is in the name of the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.”

It was strange and wonderful. The wings of my soul, once too weak to move, began to rise again. In the Word, I was being recreated. I knew that Immanuel — God with us — was with me, and my salvation was near.

Then came the divine question: “Are you holy? Does the God of Immanuel dwell within your soul?”

Through the echoing Word, my weary wings began to flap toward the mountain ridge, and I saw the dawn breaking brightly over the sky that once seemed so dark. Tightening my belt and preparing to soar again, I realized with awe that truly amazing things were happening within me — strength, hope, and a living awareness of God’s presence.

Indeed, the most amazing thing is that God lives in me — and continues to renew me day by day.

(Letter from the Parsonage, O Souls That Leap Like Deer, Story Sixteen)