요근래 사람과 사람 사이의 관계에서 상대방에게 갖는 기대감이란 것이 얼마나 무익한 것이며 불필요한 에너지를 쏟게 하는지를 생각할 기회가 있었습니다. 사실 기대감이란 것은 일방적인 상상력에 의한 나의 문제임에도 불구하고, 그 기대감이 채워지지 않았을 때의 불편한 심사는 전적으로 상대방에게 떠맡기는 일이 우리에게 너무나 비일 비재하게 일어납니다.
몸이 둔하여 전혀 무용에는 소질이 없는 아이에게 무용수가 되기를 기대한다거나, 음악적인 감각이 없는 아이에게 세계적인 음악가를 기대한다거나, 선천적으로 몸이 기형아로 태어난 아이를 정상적인 신체 를 지닌 아이와 비교하여서 가족들이 창피하게 생각하거나 절망과 고통 속에 살아가는 일은 서로의 불행을 초래하는 일이 됩니다. 그러나 그 모습 그대로 서로 인정해 주고 받아들일 때, 불필요한 스트레스를 받지 않음은 물론이요 행복의 조건이 따로 필요치 않음을 깨닫게 됩니다.
몇 년 전에 교회를 돌봐주던 사찰 할아버지의 손주 중에 선천성 신체 기형아로 많은 병을 앓고 있는 다니엘이라는 열두 살짜리 손주가 있었는데, 온 가족이 그를 얼마나 열심히 진심으로 사랑하는지 놀랄 정도였습니다. 사찰의 며느리 되는 부인도 가벼운 선천성 신체 기형 증세가 있는데, 손주까지 그런 증세로 태어났으니 얼마나 안타까웠겠습니까? 그러나 그 가족은 오히려 신체가 정상적이고 부자인 사람들 보다도 더욱 자주 모여 사랑을 나누고, 그 가정에 웃음꽃이 밤이 맞도 꼭 떠나지를 않았습니다. 그 가정엔 전혀 그늘이 없었습니다. 행여나 목사님이나 저희 가족 누구를 만나게 되면, 손주 자랑을 하느라 붙잡고 놓아주질 않을 정도였습니다. 다니엘은 늘 휠체어에 앉아 고개도 못 가는 채 입을 헤벌리고 침을 흘리고 있음에도, 다정하게 가서 소개를 시키고 손을 붙들어 주게 하고 포옹과 키스를 꼭 하게 하였습니다.
또한 미국인들의 입양아 자식 사랑은 참으로 눈물겨울 정도입니다. 제가 알고 있는 분 중 두 딸아이를 입양해서 살고 있는 미국인들이 있는데, 한 명은 한국에서, 한 명은 중국에서 입양을 하였습니다. 이분들 은 딸들의 뿌리를 찾아주기 위해, 한국에서 온 딸은 한국말을 가르치고, 중국에서 온 딸은 중국말을 가르치며 그 나라의 예절과 풍습을 연구하느라 부부가 무진 애를 쓰고 있는 것을 보았습니다. 머잖아 신체 부자유아를 더 입양할 예정이라는 말에 고개가 절로 숙여졌습니다. 사랑할 수 있을 때, 후회함 없이, 아무런 기대감 없이, 최선을 다하여 그저 사랑할 줄 아는 저들의 자연스러운 생활이 참으로 부러웠습니 다.
사랑하는 데는 조건이 없어야 함에도 불구하고, 저 자신도 무언가 ‘기대 라는 조건을 은근히 붙일 때가 많았던 것을 솔직히 인정케 됩 니다. 아이들이 공부를 잘해 주기를 기대하고, 어디 가서든지 남보다 인정받기를 기대하고, 모든 일에 나의 기대에 어긋나지 않아 주기를 기대하는 일들은 곧잘 나 자신을 피곤케 하고 절망케 하고 화나게 하 는 어리석은 경험을 남깁니다.
예수님은 이 추하고 약한 자에게 아무것도 기대하지 않으시고 무조 건적인 사랑으로, 이 모습 이대로 받아주셨는데, 가족이나 성도를 사 랑하는 것조차 조건을 달고 무엇인가를 ‘기대’ 한다는 일이 얼마나 큰 죄악인가를 회개하게 됩니다. ‘그 모습 그대로’ 사랑할 줄 알고 받아 들일 수 있는 심령은 분명 하늘의 선물입니다. 그것은 결국 남을 위한 것이 아닌, 내 자신의 영혼의 평안을 위해서, 더 높은 삶의 질과 행복을 위한 자세인 것 같습니다.
The Futility of Expectations in Human Relationships
Recently, I had an opportunity to reflect on how useless and exhausting expectations can be in human relationships. We often invest so much emotional energy in what we hope others will do for us, only to discover that such expectations are entirely of our own making. And yet, when those expectations are not met, we frequently project the discomfort and disappointment onto the other person — something that happens far more often than we realize.
For instance, expecting a child with no sense of rhythm or movement to become a dancer, or a child without musical sensitivity to become a world-class musician, or feeling ashamed of or despairing over a child born with a physical deformity — these are all acts that bring unhappiness to everyone involved. When, however, we learn to acknowledge and accept one another just as we are, we free ourselves from needless stress and come to realize that happiness requires no special conditions.
Several years ago, there was an elderly church custodian whose twelve-year-old grandson, Daniel, was born with severe congenital disabilities and suffered many illnesses. I was deeply moved by how sincerely and wholeheartedly his entire family loved him. Even the custodian’s daughter-in-law had a mild congenital condition, so one can imagine the sorrow she must have felt when her own grandson was born with similar difficulties. Yet, rather than living in despair, the family came together more often than most wealthy or healthy families. Their home was always filled with laughter; it seemed that joy itself never left their door.
Whenever they met me or any member of my family, they would proudly introduce Daniel and talk about him endlessly. Though Daniel sat in a wheelchair, unable to lift his head or close his mouth, often drooling, they would gently take my hand and place it in his — encouraging me to touch, to hug, and to kiss him. In that home, there was no shadow, only love that overflowed.
I have also been deeply touched by the way many Americans love their adopted children. Among my acquaintances is a couple who adopted two daughters — one from Korea and one from China. To help them embrace their roots, the parents diligently study each child’s native culture and language: they teach the Korean daughter to speak Korean, the Chinese daughter to speak Chinese, and they learn the customs and manners of each land. When I heard that they plan to adopt another child with physical disabilities, I could not help but bow my head in admiration. Their capacity to love without expectation, to give without thought of return, is profoundly beautiful.
Although love should be unconditional, I must confess that I, too, have often attached hidden conditions to it. I expect my children to excel in their studies, to be recognized wherever they go, to behave in ways that do not disappoint me. Yet such expectations only wear me down, leaving me tired, disheartened, and sometimes angry — foolish remnants of self-centered desire.
Jesus never expected anything from the weak or the broken. He accepted them as they were, loving them unconditionally. When I realize how easily I place conditions and expectations even upon my family and congregation, I am led to repent. The heart that can love and accept others “just as they are” is surely a gift from heaven. Ultimately, such acceptance is not merely for the sake of others, but for the peace of one’s own soul — a path toward deeper joy and a higher quality of life.
신앙생활을 하면서 종종 영적인 파산 상태를 맞게 될 때가 있습니 다. 조금 전까지만 해도 남을 위로하며 모든 것을 믿음으로 극복하며 살고 있는 것 같았으나, 갑자기 영혼과 육신이 무력해지고 약해질 대 로 연약해져서, 도대체 내가 진정한 그리스도인인지조차 의심스러울 때가 있습니다. 하나님의 수많은 기적의 체험이 과거 이스라엘 민족 에게만 나타난 것이 아니라, 내 생의 굽이굽이 길에서 함께하시며 기 적과 이적의 순간들을 보여주시고 체험했음에도 불구하고 ‘하나님 어디 계십니까? 하고 엉뚱한 질문을 던질 때가 있는 것입니다.
저 자신도 이런 영적인 파산 속에서 헤매일 때가 가끔 있습니다. 그 럴 땐 틀림없이 내 영혼의 초점이 하나님을 떠나 무엇인가에 흐트러 진 바 되어 침체의 늪에서 허덕이게 됩니다. 이럴 때 나타나는 증상은 감사와 찬송이 입술에서 떠나고, 자꾸 무엇인가에 불만을 갖게 되고 삶에 대한 자신과 용기가 사라지는 것입니다. 불필요한 것에 대한 근심과 걱정에 사로잡혀 현실 속에 전혀 자유치 못하는 숨막힐 듯한 답 답함을 갖게 됩니다.
신앙인이 아무것도 할 수 없는 영적 파산 선고를 당하게 되면, 농부가그 넓고 광활한 토지를 앞에 두고 농사를 포기하는 것과 같습니다. 흙을 일구어 씨를 뿌리고 부지런히 물을 대주고, 때 맞추어 약을 쳐주 어야만 마땅히 거둬들일 열매들을 얻게 되는데, 무기력 상태에 빠져 아무것도 소출을 기대할 수 없는 것은 물론이요, 가꾸지 않은 땅덩어리는 영정퀴와 잡초들로 뒤얽혀 나쁜 뿌리들이 땅을 모두 점령해 버리고마는 결과를 넣게 됩니다.
감리교의 창시자인 존 웨슬리 목사님도 하나님을 사랑하는 뜨거운 열정으로, 식민지 조지아 주에 선교사로 왔다가, 2년 만에 실패하고 영국으로 돌아가게 되었습니다. 그리고 영적인 파산에 빠져서 헤어나 오지 못하는 가운데 설교조차도 할 수 없는 무력감으로, 친구에게 다시는 설교할 수 없을 것 같다고 고백합니다. 그러나 친구는 권면하기를 “믿음이 생길 때까지 설교를 멈추지 말라.”라고 하였습니다. 그는 올더스게이트에서 로마서 서문을 듣고 있다가 가슴이 뜨거워지는 체험 후에, 하나님께서 주신 은혜의 도구들을 발견하고 그리스도인은 누구나 이것을 사용하여, 영의 세계에 기름진 옥토를 가꾸어 풍족한 열매를 거둘 수 있음을 확신시켰습니다.
존 웨슬리 목사님이 사용한 은혜의 도구에는 기도, 성경 공부, 금식, 성도들의 모임 참석, 공중예배, 성만찬에 참여함으로, 계속적으로 하나님께서 우리를 길러주시고 돌보고 계심을 체험토록 하였습니다.
우리의 영혼을 아프게 하고 병들게 하여 영적인 무기력 속에 빠지게 하는 요소들은 너무나 많습니다. 지난 달에 이유없이 폭파당한 TWA 800기의 원인을 아직도 밝히지 못하고, 230여 명의 탑승객들이 공중 분해된 현실 앞에 우리는 아연실색게 됩니다.
그러나 하나님은 영적인 파산 선고와 무기력 속에 빠져들어 가는 개인과 국가의 영적 파산 속에, 은혜의 도구들을 쥐어주시며 어느 때 보다도 더 긴급히 사용하기를 원하고 계십니다. “건강한 신앙은 소망이 결코 병들지 않는다.”라고 존 버니언은 말하였습니다. 소망과 믿음이 있는 한 우리는 영적 파산을 경험할 이유가 없습니다.
영적 파산 선고, 그것은 개인과 국가의 죽음 선포와 같습니다. 2000 년 전, 광야에서 시험을 받으시던 주님이 “사람이 떡으로만 살 것이 아니요 하나님의 입으로 나오는 모든 말씀으로 살 것이라”(마 4:4) 라고 담대히 외치신 주님의 말씀이 그 어느 때보다도 절실히 가슴에 와닿는 때입니다.
In the life of faith, there come times when one suddenly faces a state of spiritual bankruptcy. Only a moment ago, I may have seemed to live by faith—comforting others, overcoming trials, and trusting God in all things. Yet suddenly, my soul and body grow weak and powerless, and I begin to question whether I am truly a Christian at all.
Even though I have witnessed God’s miracles—not only as they appeared to ancient Israel, but also within the twists and turns of my own life—I sometimes find myself crying out in confusion, “God, where are You?”
I, too, have wandered through such seasons of spiritual bankruptcy. Whenever this happens, I know that the focus of my soul has drifted away from God toward something else—some distraction or self-centered desire—and soon I am sinking into the mire of stagnation. The symptoms are always the same: gratitude and praise vanish from my lips; discontent begins to grow within me; courage and confidence fade. I find myself imprisoned by needless anxiety, weighed down by worries, gasping for freedom that never seems to come.
When a believer reaches such a point—when one can do nothing but acknowledge spiritual bankruptcy—it is like a farmer standing before a wide, fertile field yet giving up the will to farm. Unless he plows the soil, sows the seed, waters it with diligence, and tends it in its season, the harvest will never come. The neglected ground soon becomes entangled with thorns and weeds until the very roots of corruption claim the soil as their own.
John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, once burned with holy zeal for God and sailed to the colony of Georgia as a missionary. Yet after two years, he failed and returned to England, overwhelmed by despair. In the depth of his spiritual collapse, he confessed to a friend that he could no longer preach. But his friend urged him, saying, “Preach faith until you have faith.”
Later, while listening to the preface of the Epistle to the Romans at Aldersgate, Wesley felt his heart “strangely warmed.” There he discovered anew the means of grace—divine instruments by which every believer may cultivate the rich soil of the spirit and bear abundant fruit in the life of faith.
Among those means of grace were prayer, study of Scripture, fasting, fellowship with other believers, participation in public worship, and communion at the Lord’s Table. Through these practices, Wesley experienced anew how God continues to nurture and care for our souls.
There are countless forces today that wound the soul and draw us into spiritual paralysis. We still remember the tragedy of TWA Flight 800, destroyed without known cause, leaving more than two hundred thirty souls scattered in the sky—a shocking reminder of human frailty and confusion.
And yet—even amid such despair—God places the instruments of grace into the hands of those who are falling into spiritual bankruptcy, both individuals and nations alike. He urges us to use them now more urgently than ever.
John Bunyan once said, “A healthy faith keeps hope from ever growing sick.” As long as we hold onto faith and hope, there is no reason for spiritual bankruptcy.
To declare spiritual bankruptcy is nothing less than to declare death—both personal and national. Two thousand years ago, when the Lord was tested in the wilderness, He proclaimed with unwavering strength:
“Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.” (Matthew 4:4)
That same Word still speaks to our hearts today, more urgently and tenderly than ever before.
묘지는 먹구름 아래 고요히 잠든다. 스무 해를 넘도록 자라온 곳— 돌이 아니라, 잊지 못한 자들의 가슴 속에서 자라온 땅. 그 한가운데, 뼈 위에 세운 집 아래서 늙은이는 또 하나의 생명을 품에 안는다. 그의 어깨 위로 비르나의 비가 내린다. 하늘이 속삭인다. “너는 잊히지 않았다.”
아기는 첫 숨을 내쉬고, 공기는 떨림으로 가득 찬다. 그 미약한 숨결 속에 창조의 고통이, 하나님의 상처가, 여전히 살아 숨 쉰다. 늙은이의 손— 굳고 마른 손—이 작은 생명을 들어 올린다. 그의 손금마다 마른 강이 다시 흐르고, 오천 년의 기억이 깨어나 비르나의 묘 위로 떨어진다.
울산, 마산, 구로, 창원의 도시들이 신음한다. 쇠 냄새와 땀 냄새가 뒤섞인 공기, 그 속을 걷는 목수의 어깨는 세월의 무게에 꺾이고, 땅은 그를 보며 한숨을 쉰다.
그러나 어둠 속 어딘가에서 하나의 목소리가 피어난다. 탄식이기도 하고, 할렐루야이기도 한 소리— 남도의 한(恨)이 빛으로 바뀌는 노래. 그 노래는 공장과 연기, 논과 강을 지나 마침내 죽은 자의 귀에도 닿는다.
눈물만 먹고 살던 아이, 새벽이 오기 전에 숨을 거두었으나 그 마지막 숨결 위로 다시 비가 내린다. 묘 위에, 거친 손 위에, 기다리는 땅 위에— 그 비는 고요히 떨어져 하늘이 땅에 입맞추게 한다.
그때, 마음이 깨닫는다. 고통은 끝이 아니라 희망이 들어오는 문이며, 눈물은 모두 부활의 씨앗임을.
The graveyard sleeps beneath a quilt of cloud. For twenty years it has grown— not in stone, but in the hearts that refuse forgetting.
At the center of its hush stands a house raised on bones. Beneath its roof, an old man receives a newborn into arms that tremble with memory.
Rain begins—Birna’s rain— a soft repentance falling from heaven. Each drop whispers: You are remembered.
The child draws a single breath, and the air quivers with mystery. In that fragile intake lives the ancient ache of creation— the longing of all flesh to be seen, the wound of God still open in the world.
Hands shaped by labor and grief lift the small body like an offering. The dry rivers in his palms begin to flow again, carrying five thousand years of prayer, of nations that spoke and then fell silent.
The river returns— moving through his hands, spilling onto Birna’s grave like mercy recalled.
The cities groan— Ulsan, Masan, Guro, Changwon— air thick with metal and sweat, streets heavy with unsung hymns.
In a narrow alley, a carpenter sets down his saw. His shoulders, bent like reeds in wind, shake beneath the long weight of time. The earth, noticing him, exhales.
Still, from the shadows, a voice begins to rise— half lament, half alleluia— Namdo’s sorrow turning slowly toward light.
It moves through factories and smoke, through fields and rivers, until even the dead can hear.
The child, who had known only tears, dies before the dawn. Yet in that last release of breath, the rain comes again— clear, swift.
It falls on the grave, on the cracked palms, on the waiting earth. In that quiet descent, the sky bends low, and God breathes through the wounds of the world.
Then the heart understands: suffering is not the end, but the doorway through which hope enters.
A life led by the Holy Spirit overflows with inner strength and joy. In such a life, one feels at every moment that I am no longer the master of myself. God, even now, cherishes my existence—insignificant as I am—and desires to pour His Spirit upon me, to use me as His good instrument.
Last spring, I returned to my homeland after sixteen years. From the moment I arrived, through every day I stayed there, I experienced the presence of the Holy Spirit again and again.
At Incheon International Airport, after collecting my luggage, I took a taxi. The driver, a man in his early forties, and I began a casual conversation about life. As I listened with interest, he began to open his heart about his recent family troubles—his voice trembling with despair and a weariness that bordered on hopelessness.
He told me that though he had worked sixteen hours a day to support his wife and children, his wife had recently become unfaithful. Now, he said, he no longer had the will to work; his heart was filled with anxiety and anger, and life had lost all meaning.
As I listened, I silently prayed for the Spirit’s wisdom.
“Sir,” I said gently, “you’ve worked hard and lived faithfully, haven’t you?”
“Of course,” he replied.
“But there’s one thing you haven’t done your best in,” I said softly. “Your wife may have needed the house and the money—but there’s something even more precious you couldn’t give her.”
“I did my best,” he protested.
“No,” I said. “Your wife’s heart feels empty. Not only hers—every human heart is made that way. Sir, you don’t go to church, do you?”
“No, I don’t.”
“It’s not too late. For your wife, your family—what you need most urgently as a husband and father is to invite Jesus into your life. Then you’ll find joy and purpose greater than before—and even your wife’s heart will change.”
He nodded slowly. “I’ve sometimes thought about going to church,” he said. “But I’ve been too busy working. Madam, you seem to be a truly happy person.”
“Yes,” I replied. “Before I knew Jesus, my heart was always empty. I used to wander, chasing happiness over the next hill. But now that I’ve met Him, every day is filled with joy—and my family is truly happy.”
The driver nodded again, his eyes soft with peace. When we reached my destination, I gave him a generous tip and said several times, “Please meet Jesus.” As I stepped out, I felt deeply that God was urgently seeking to save this man and his household.
A few days later, I took my mother to a beauty salon before a wedding. After running some errands, I returned to pick her up. As I entered, one of the hairdressers asked, “Would you like to have your hair done?” Almost without thinking, I said, “Well… I only came to pick up my mother—but perhaps you could make my hair look nice?”
Without any plan, I found myself sitting in the chair. Amused at my own spontaneity, I watched her quietly in the mirror. She was a young woman, perhaps in her late twenties, her face pale and bare of makeup, shadowed by sorrow.
“You look tired,” I said gently.
She gave a faint smile. “I’m all right,” she whispered.
“How long have you been doing this work?” I asked.
“About ten years,” she said. “I’m sorry I look this way—I haven’t even been able to put on makeup. My youngest brother died two days ago in a motorcycle accident. He was the only son, born after seven daughters…”
Tears streamed down her face.
“Oh, you’re still in mourning,” I said softly. “It’s remarkable that you’re working despite your grief. Did your brother know Jesus?”
“No,” she said. “My parents are Confucian.”
“And you?”
“Yes,” she said. “My father-in-law is a pastor. Because of his encouragement, I sometimes went to church, but not seriously.”
“So your brother was twenty-two?” I asked. “He’s entrusted the rest of his life to you now. You must live for both of you—but something must change, don’t you think?” She nodded quietly.
“I hadn’t planned to come here at all,” I told her. “But I believe the Holy Spirit led me—because He wants to comfort you. Shall we pray together for a moment?”
There, in the middle of the salon, with her hands still tangled in my hair and customers waiting nearby, we prayed earnestly for God’s comfort and peace. When we finished, she wiped her tears and thanked me. She refused to take payment, saying she could never accept it. I embraced her before leaving, feeling a deep love and connection as though parting from a lifelong friend.
There is a line in hymn #427 that says:
“I’m rejoicing night and day, As I walk the pilgrim way, For the hand of God in all my life I see. And the reason of my bliss, Yes, the secret all is this: That the comforter abides with me, … ” (H. Buffum)
I have always confessed this hymn as my own testimony. Walking daily with the Spirit, I find joy even on the narrow road.
The Holy Spirit is not mine alone—it is God’s free gift to all who have been baptized and forgiven (Acts 2:38).
And so today, once again, I pray that the Holy Spirit may fill me— that I might be used as God’s living instrument.
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