We journeyed southward,

to the city where King Yeongjo‘s Suwon HwaSung Fortress beneath the patient hills,

where generations pass

and memory lingers among the pines.

There I met again

my old friend,

Rev. Dr. Se-Hyoung Lee,

teacher of teachers,

a sower of minds and souls.

Twenty-six years he stood

before eager students

at Hyupsung University,

opening the deep wells

of theology,

drawing water from ancient springs

for those who would one day

preach, teach, and guide the Church.

Before the statue of John Wesley,

we embraced.

No ceremony.

No audience.

Only two pilgrims

meeting again upon the road,

forty years after northern Manhattan,

forty years after Drew University,

forty years after dreams

still searching for their shape.

I looked around this place.

Once a modest seminary,

born in faith and necessity,

gathering the scattered streams

of Methodist education.

Then the years unfolded.

Buildings rose.

Libraries opened their doors.

New disciplines found a home.

The seed became a tree.

A seminary became a college.

A college became a university.

Four colleges stretching their branches

toward new generations.

And through many of those years,

my friend stood among the builders,

serving as dean,

guiding the graduate school,

helping the vision grow

beyond what many imagined.

Ah!

How mysterious

the work of the Creator.

A vision planted in one heart

becomes shelter for thousands.

And still he does not rest.

Translating wisdom

from distant languages into Korean.

Publishing volume after volume—

thirty-eight books and more.

Listening to wounded souls

through the lens of psychoanalysis.

Teaching.

Writing.

Healing.

Encouraging.

The labor continues.

The river continues.

The calling continues.

Indeed,

a pillar among Korean Christian theologians,

a careful interpreter of the human soul,

a servant of both mind and spirit.

And beside him,

his gracious wife,

sharing the long journey,

the hidden sacrifices,

the quiet faithfulness

known only to those

who walk together through decades.

Today my soul rejoices.

Not only because of achievements.

Not because of titles.

Not because of buildings raised

or books written.

But because I have witnessed

what becomes possible

when one life remains faithful

to a vision greater than itself.

And standing there,

beneath the gaze of Wesley,

among students who carry tomorrow in their hands,

I gave thanks.

For friendship.

For vocation.

For the strange generosity of time.

And for the Creator,

who is never finished

with any of us.

— TaeHun Yoon, June 14, 2026