One morning, I noticed something strange—the small hand mirror that always sat in our bathroom was missing. No one else in the family used it but me, so I searched for a while, then gave up. I must have misplaced it, I thought, and let it go.

But days later, I found it in the downstairs bathroom. Curious, I asked my eldest, and learned that my second daughter, Serim—just past thirteen—had started using it.

I was quietly surprised. The child I still thought of as little had begun caring about her appearance, checking her profile, adjusting her hair. Each morning, I’d see her tilting her head, lifting her eyes, studying herself in the mirror with growing attention.

Even our youngest, Sejun, who used to rush off to school with a cap over his messy hair, had changed. On picture day, his older sister styled his hair, and when classmates said, “You look nice!” he began using hairspray and checking his reflection too.

Now, when all three children prepare to go out, they crowd around the mirror, asking, “Does this outfit look okay?” “Is my hair weird?” Even after checking, they often leave with a dissatisfied look, still unsure of themselves.

I, too, stand before the mirror several times a day— not to admire, but to check: Is there something on my face? Is my collar torn? Are my buttons straight?

The mirror is essential to daily life. It shows us what we cannot see on our own. It reflects our image with objectivity, helping us adjust, prepare, and present ourselves.

But there is another kind of mirror— one that reflects not our outward appearance, but our inner self. That mirror is the Word of Life: Scripture.

When we stand before the mirror of God’s Word, we see the stains on our soul— pettiness, pride, impatience, hypocrisy. We see what the world cannot.

The mirror of Scripture reveals how little value lies in outward show, and opens our ears to eternity.

Those who stand before this mirror regularly walk into the world with confidence— not because of what they wear, but because they are clothed in humility, love, and the beauty Christ cherishes.

I confess, I often neglect this mirror. And when I do, my soul becomes clouded— rushed, restless, proud, discouraged. I become a defeated soldier in the battle of life.

In those moments, I remember the words of Thomas à Kempis: “You are weaker than you know.”

Yet the miracle is this: when I return to the mirror of the Word, all that is dirty and unnecessary is washed clean again— like fresh snow, like light through glass.

Just now, my daughter stood before the mirror in jeans and a beige sweater. Moments later, she reappeared in a black skirt and red shirt, adjusting her look with uncertainty.

She asked, “How do I look? Is this weird?” I replied, “It’s fine! You look great!” But not quite trusting me, she turned to her younger brother.

“Sejun, how do I look?” He grinned mischievously: “You look cool… but kind of like a grandma!”

Laughter and squeals filled the house, and I thought to myself— maybe it’s time I looked in the mirror a little more earnestly too.

— Yoon Wan Hee, June 16, 1997