These days, bookstores are filled with books telling the success stories of ordinary people. In particular, after last year’s IMF crisis in Korea, many who lost their jobs or experienced failure have shared how they rose again—and their stories have given courage and strength to countless others. When you look closely, these stories share one common thread: when people discover their own individuality and make use of their unique strengths, they unexpectedly find themselves grasping the ball of success.

As a pastor’s wife, I wandered for years without knowing my own identity. It was because of the many expectations church members placed on me, each assigning different responsibilities. One person insisted that a pastor’s wife must always be devoted to the church kitchen. Another said I must pray more than anyone else and become a spiritually powerful pastor’s wife. Yet another expected me to help with all church administrative work, be diligent in visitation, and play the piano or organ skillfully whenever there was no accompanist. Still others said I should not only be a mother to my own family but also a mother of the church—possessing an ocean‑like generosity and Christlike sacrifice and love.

Unfortunately, I did not fit any of these expectations. I did not enjoy kitchen work, and the church kitchen was even less appealing. My personality—easily hurt by a single word from my husband—made the idea of ocean‑like generosity or Christlike sacrifice feel impossible. So I constantly asked myself, “What is my true life supposed to be?” and stumbled through life, living out my half‑formed personality and character.

After years of being tossed by waves of expectation and wounded by not knowing who I was, I finally asked God, “What do You want from me?” And He answered, “What I want is simply for you to become yourself! Find your own color! Live in harmony with the world within the very light I have given you!”

But with my vision already blurred, finding my own light was not easy. Yet, in the ordinary rhythms of daily life, my simple desire to become myself slowly became a healing ray—like spring sunlight—leading me into a season of restoration.

Ah! How great a comfort and strength it was to acknowledge my own circumstances, to accept myself, and to know that the One who works great things within me was walking with me.

Bishop Ernest S. Lyght of the New York Conference of the United Methodist Church once shared his own story. In the 1970s, wherever he went to pastor, he faced difficulties for various reasons. When this African American pastor was appointed to a white congregation, the members rose up with three objections: first, he was too young; second, he was Black; and third, he was single—so how could he counsel couples in marital crisis?

One Sunday, he addressed these concerns during worship: “Let me answer your three questions. First, you say I am too young. Well, my birthday is next month—I will grow older anyway. Second, you worry that I am Black. Please don’t worry. No matter how much you worry, my face will remain the same. Third, you worry that I am single. I am engaged, and I will be married soon. And if anyone needs counseling for their marriage, I will do my best, holding onto the Word God has already given me.”

After several years of fruitful ministry there, he was reassigned to a Black congregation. But another issue arose: how could someone who had pastored a white church for nearly ten years understand Black people and minister to them properly? He had to answer again: “My friends, I was born African American. Even if I showered in white paint, I cannot hide the blood that runs in me. My ancestors were slaves in this country, and my Black parents raised and educated me. These are facts no one can erase.”

His confidence and dignity—rooted in discovering his God‑given identity and light—eventually led him to the role of bishop.

Today, many Christians struggle with the responsibility of living faithfully. But unless you know who you are, you cannot truly know who the other person is. I am a sinner, weak and not someone others would naturally expect much from. Yet I must not forget that the One who is great and good dwells within me, enabling me to shine with my own unique and beautiful light and fragrance. And when I acknowledge that the person I admire, respect, and love is also the same—unique, God‑shaped, and God‑guided—perhaps then we will grasp the ball of success in both our spiritual lives and our human relationships.

— Wanhee Yoon, February 4, 1999