A star did not hide its trembling light, and on the branches where dawn rested, before the ripe persimmon fell, on one autumn morning— a child was born.
It was autumn, a morning at ten, dew resting on the hill, birds winging fresh songs through sky and branches, apples falling one by one, while God dwelt in heaven— and the earth was at peace.
I long to see Semi, to hear her voice— to teach me joy, to show me peace, to bring me mercy in my fears, comfort in my pain. My heart is held captive by her.
I long to see Semi, to behold the overflow of God’s mercy and love, His power, His promised compassion that holds me fast.
In the beauty of mercy’s glow, in the peaceful breath of life, I long to see Semi’s face.
Look upon us! Look upon us! Look upon us! O incomparable One!
Semi—overflowing with light.
Please! Turn Your kind and gentle face toward me, show me my blessedness.
The One I once longed for in ages past— now Semi has returned.
Oh! Blessing beyond all measure, beyond every expectation!
I come to a quiet and safe place. Alone. Still. Present.
Yesterday lingers: my heart restless, my mind chasing news from Korea, my soul unsettled by heavy rains. My eyes blurred, my memory faltered, my spirit wandered.
Two movements stir within me: to recall the past, or to rest in God’s presence now. I choose the present— to seek God here, not cling to yesterday’s shadows.
I pray with Sundar Singh:
“The world is so vast, yet it cannot satisfy the tiny human heart. Only in the Infinite God is peace found. As water is restless until it reaches its level, so the soul finds rest only in God.”
I lift my heart with George Matheson:
“Make me a captive, Lord, and then I shall be free. Imprison me within Your arms, and strong shall be my hand.”
[LECTIO – Reading the Word]
I breathe deeply. I open the Word: Psalm 103.
The words fall gently upon my soul:
“Let my whole being bless the Lord! Let everything inside me bless His holy name!”
“He forgives your sins—every one. He heals your diseases—every one. He redeems your life from the pit. He crowns you with love and mercy.”
“As far as east is from west, so far has He removed our sins from us.”
“As tender as a father with his children, so the Lord has compassion for those who fear Him.”
“All God’s creatures, bless the Lord! Everywhere, throughout His kingdom, let my whole being bless the Lord!”
The words echo: “Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not a single blessing.”
[MEDITATIO – Reflecting on the Word]
I let the words sink deeper. David’s psalm is both praise and memory— a festival song, a hymn for all creation.
God’s love is not distant. It is active, tender, unending. He forgives. He heals. He redeems. He crowns. He renews.
How easily I dredge up the past— old wounds, old sins. But God wipes the record clean.
To follow Him, I must forgive as He forgives— fully, freely, forgetting the sin.
We are fragile like grass, but His mercy endures forever.
St. Augustine reminds me:
“If we do not recognize our sins, we cannot receive grace.”
Yet in God’s mercy, even weakness is gathered up, transformed by compassion.
[ORATIO – Praying the Word]
So I pray:
Lord, let Your Word not only enter my ears, but my soul.
Your anger is not vengeance— it is justice tempered by mercy. Only the Cross reveals Your eternal love.
You know my weakness, my hidden impatience, my restless heart. And still, You embrace me.
All creation sings with joy— the wind, the trees, the stars.
Jonathan Edwards once said:
“The whole world rejoices and sings, embracing one another in love.”
So may I, too, rejoice in You.
[CONTEMPLATIO – Resting in the Word]
I enter silence. No words. No images. Just being with God.
Two pictures arise within me:
(1) A frame hangs on the wall— inside it, a painting of nature. When I step back, the frame becomes part of the landscape.
(2) I sit quietly with my two dogs. Simple. Peaceful. Loved.
I do not force meaning. I simply rest.
There is work to do— lawns to trim, gutters to clean, choir to prepare for.
But in this moment, I have peace. I have a home. I have God.
[INCARNATIO – Living the Word]
I open my eyes. I breathe again—slowly, deeply.
I lift my heart with the hymn:
“Draw me nearer, blessed Lord, to the cross where You have died. Draw me nearer to Your bleeding side, where love flows without end.”
이 가을, 내 영혼 한 마리의 새가 되어 산야를 날아봅니다. 하나님의 솜씨 어찌 그리 아름다운지요! 산의 능선과 들녘, 강줄기따라 흘러 넘치는 오색 축복의 잔치, 기쁨의 빛으로, 평화의 물결로, 사랑의 폭죽으로 불타고 있나이다. 수려한 산등성이와 바닷가 갈대 숲을 걸으시는 주님의 옷자락 스치는 소리, 찬양하는 갈잎들과 갈대의 노래, 들국화 춤의 향연이 골짜기마다 물결을 이루며 거룩하다! 거룩하다! 주님의 솜씨 거룩하다!” 하며 기뻐하고 있나이다.
주여! 보시옵소서! 피조물들의 경배를 … …. 아침과 낮, 저녁과 밤을 통하여 주께서 일년 내내 베푸신 햇살의 풍성함과 단비의 촉촉함과 청명한 이슬과 천둥 번개로 무르익은 향기로운 단맛의 과실들이, 가지마다 휘청하게 매달리어 찬미의 합창을 부르고 있나이다. 한 입에 물씬 깨물리는 붉게 물든 단감과 탐스러운 포도송이의 단물 속에서 당신의 속삭이시는 사랑의 고백을 듣나이다. 인간이 무엇이기에, 사람이 무엇이기에 당신의 성실하시고 지극하신 사랑, 그토록 진하고 향기로우며 달콤하옵니까?
아름다우신 주여! 요즈음엔 어디를 가든지 당신의 모습뿐입니다. 찬서리 내린 이른 아침에 유유히 물위를 헤엄쳐 가는 백조의 모습 속에 당신의 우아함을 뵈오며, 코스모스 가는 허리 높이 펴고 방긋거리는 해말간 웃음, 속에 당신의 순결하심을 뵈옵나이다. 낙엽쌓인 숲속을 장난질치며 질주하는 다람쥐들의 빠른 걸음 속에 당신의 쾌활하심을 뵈오며, 저 높고 높은 하늘의 뭉게구름 떠오름 속에 당신의 인자를 뵈옵나이다. 들녘, 농부의 손길을 기다리고 있는 노오란 옥수수 단에서 당신의 풍요를 뵈오며, 우수수 흩어져 내리는 낙엽을 흔드는 바람 속에 당신의 손길을 뵈옵나이다.
전능하신 내 주여! 이젠 뉘엿뉘엿 서산에 넘어가는 붉은 노을을 바라보면서도 슬프지 않은 것은, 당신이 그 어느 때보다 가까이 와 계심 입니다. 주룩주룩 내리는 가을 빗속을 옷이 젖도록 걷고 걸어도 외롭지 않은 것은 당신의 관용이 온몸에 가득함입니다.
나의 왕, 나의 주님이시여! 떨어지는 낙엽을 밟으면 언제나 흐르는 뜨거운 눈물이 있사오니, 못다한 날들과의 이별과 회한의 눈물이 결코 아니옵니다. 그 눈물은 위대한 당신의 언약 앞에 이 연약한 인간이 두 팔을 벌리고 감격하는 환희의 눈물입니다.
주여! 지난날의 게으름과 용기없음과 덧없는 허무에 사로잡혀 귀한 세월 허송하였음을 용서 구하기도 전에, 당신은 어느덧 나를 용서하시고 받아 주시옵기에 염치없는 얼굴로, 눈물을 닦으며 다시금 당신께 향하곤 하옵니다.
나의 하나님, 나의 아버지시여! 이 산야에 오색으로 타오르는 불덩이 속에 호렙산 가시불 앞에 선 모세를 생각하며 떨리는 가슴으로 하늘을 우러러봅니다. 당신은 언제나 불이시며 빛이시옵니다.
소멸의 불이 아니요, 생명의 불로 오시는 이여! 말씀하소서. 이 가을엔 당신의 감추인 비밀을 내게 말씀하옵소서. 이 작고 무지한 생명이 감당하기엔 너무나 엄청난 주님의 뜨거운 가슴을 안고 무릎 꿇었사오 니 말씀하소서!
팔씀이 육신이 되어 생명의 빛으로 오신 이예! 영접하오니 나의 가장 깊고 깊은 곳으로 오시옵소서, 나의 냉기어린 빈 땅에 오시옵소서,
오늘도 사람을 위해 베풀어 주신 당신의 사랑은 창고마다 가득할진대, 정작 마땅히 베풀어야만 했을 나의 사랑은 변변치 못하였음을 어찌하오리까? 당신의 가슴은 지금도 자식과 남편을 잃은 르완다 여인과 함께 빨갛게 타들어가고 있으며, 굶주린 독수리 한 마리 광아에서 죽어가듯, 죽어가는 소말리아의 어린것들과 함께 노오랗게 굶주려 가고 있건만, 내 가슴은 아직도 설익어 퍼렇기만 함을 이 가을날 고백하 옵나이다.
앞뜰과 뒤뜰, 산골짜기마다 쌓여가는 낙엽조차도 그냥 내버려두시지 않으시고, 흩으시며 모으기도 하시며 흙으로 돌아가는 날까지 돌보시며 거두시는 주여! 높고 높은 빈 나뭇가지 꼭대기에 덩그러이 남게 될 새들의 둥지를 지키시고, 벌거벗은 산짐승들을 먹이시며, 상한 갈대를 꺾지 않으심같이, 내 수치와 자애 (자신 만을 사랑 함) 조차도 결코 꺾지 않으시고 무르익기를 기다리시옵니다.
주여! 한 해 동안의 시련과 고난을 넉넉히 이겨 나갈 수 있는 은총을 허락하시고, 생명의 처소에 쏟아지는 별빛으로 내 영혼의 어둠 밝히시며 열매마다 미래를 심으셨사오니 감사하옵나이다.
이 가을! 내려덮이는 낙옆 속에 내 영혼의 겹겹이 쌓인 껍질들을 미련없이 벗어놓습니다. 그리고 벗은 몸으로 또 하나의 거룩한 약속을 위하여 묵묵히 겨울로 떠나가는 나무를 닮고 싶습니다.
나의 주님이시여! 이 가을, 주님이 지으신 산야의 성소가 가슴 뭉클 하도록 참으로 곱고 아름답게 물들었습니다. 인간에게 당신의 가장 아름다운 것으로, 가장 풍성한 것으로, 가장 소중한 것으로 주시기를 즐겨 원하시는 주여! 이 생명의 찬양 받아주시옵소서! 아멘.
This autumn, my soul becomes a bird, Soaring across mountains and fields. How marvelous are the works of God! Ridges and meadows, rivers and valleys overflow with the feast of blessings— a festival of radiant colors, waves of peace, and firebursts of love.
I hear the rustling hem of the Lord’s robe brushing over ridges and reeds by the sea. The reed leaves sing in praise, wild chrysanthemums dance in fragrant delight, and every valley resounds: “Holy! Holy! Holy is the work of the Lord!”
O Lord, behold! Through morning, noon, evening, and night all creation bows before You. The fruits You have ripened all year long— by sunshine, gentle rain, pure dew, thunder, and lightning— now hang heavy on branches, singing a chorus of thanksgiving. In the crisp sweetness of a ripe persimmon, in the bursting juice of the grape, I hear Your whispered confession of love. What is man, O Lord, that You crown him with such steadfast, tender, fragrant love?
Beautiful Lord, these days I see only You. In the swan gliding over frosted waters at dawn, I glimpse Your grace. In the bright smile of cosmos flowers, I behold Your purity. In the scampering steps of squirrels through fallen leaves, I find Your cheerfulness. In towering clouds rising in the sky, I perceive Your mercy. In golden ears of corn awaiting harvest, I sense Your abundance. And in the wind scattering leaves, I feel Your hand.
Almighty Lord, even as the sun sinks in crimson glow, I am not sad— for You are nearer than ever. Even walking through drenching autumn rain, I am not lonely— for Your grace fills me wholly.
My King, my Lord! When tears fall upon fallen leaves, they are not tears of regret for days lost, but tears of awe and joy before Your covenant. In weakness, I stretch out my arms and weep with gladness.
Lord, though I wasted time in laziness, fear, and vanity, before I could even ask forgiveness, You forgave me, and welcomed me back. Ashamed, I wipe my tears, yet again I turn toward You.
My God, my Father! Amid the flaming colors of autumn hills, I recall Moses at the burning bush. You are always fire, always light. Not a fire that consumes, but a fire that gives life. Speak, Lord! Reveal to me the secret of Your heart this autumn. This frail soul bows trembling before Your burning love.
Word made flesh, Light of life— come into the deepest place within me. Come into the barren, cold ground of my heart. Though Your storehouses overflow with love, my own love remains so small, so unripe. Even now, Your heart burns with a grieving mother in Rwanda, with the hungry children of Somalia. But my heart is still pale and immature. Forgive me, Lord, I confess.
O Lord, You do not leave even fallen leaves to decay unseen. You scatter and gather them, tending them until they return to earth. You guard the lonely nests in high bare branches, You feed the wild beasts, and like a reed You will not break, You bear patiently even my pride and weakness until they ripen in Your mercy.
Lord, grant me grace to endure the trials of this year. Shine upon my darkness with the starlight of life, and let every fruit bear the seed of the future. I thank You.
This autumn, under falling leaves, I lay down the many shells of my soul. Stripped bare, I long to resemble the silent tree that enters winter faithfully for the sake of another holy promise.
O my Lord! This autumn sanctuary of hills and fields is clothed with unspeakable beauty. You, who delight in giving the most beautiful, the most abundant, the most precious things to humankind— receive this hymn of life! Amen.
Yesterday, I leapt from the hollow of a vanished “now.” I danced upon a birch, a totem coiled like a serpent in one hand, a legend clutched in the other.
I grew smaller as the mirror swelled. I died, and rose again. I died, and rose again.
Today— I am no longer yesterday’s self. I see, I resemble, yet I leave the house and shoulder a bundle into the cave, seeking tomorrow.
Not the lost tomorrow, but the discarded one— not torn between peaks, but crawling quietly into the unseen bundle on my back.
The road stretches like the totem, my dance turns wholly mine, and the song spills free.
Where the bluebird vanished, names gather like forgotten days. Even departing, I cannot cast myself away.
My soul stays, building its cave, leaping beyond the future.
On a spinning top, my legend is born. The wind— the day— was lost.
Beneath the tall stone embankment by the elementary school beside my home, the sound of murky water trickling— the black, stagnant water seeping from every corner of the city of Present where I live.
Deep in the mountain valley, where ancient trees and rocks keep watch, water falls upon small pebbles— a stream that belongs to my imprisoned self.
Yes— the human fate: the sudden nightfall (within), forcing Present to turn far back upon itself, grows ever deeper.
Television, knitting, magazines, boiling stew, gossip, mass-produced cars, the endless rotation of screws, air regulated indoors, machines that serve our convenience— all make human dwelling seem vast and expansive.
Yet under the bed lies the desert’s fire, its sharp tentacles waiting for the days to come.
The accelerating rush, the stilled car, already— even the face etched with the count of a full moon’s cycles upon the axe’s blade has become forgetfulness.
The form beneath a single veil, the crippled beauty of an endless aria, grows larger.
From Karl Marx’s Second Story, from George Orwell’s 1984, the brave new world has rolled away; both Nausea and I have disappeared.
No trace remains— so bury your time, your heavy thoughts, in the grave!
The only thing needed— is the wind filling the heavens and the earth, the wind everyone knows, but only the wind that I can breathe.
(Note: The piece I was honored to present—without title, yet full of memory—earned me the privilege of delivering the very first recitation in our Philosophy class and at the school’s anniversary event, Confession of Poetry and Music, held at Seoul Methodist Theological University.
It spoke of the autumn of 1969, when the sky was high and piercingly blue, casting something deep and unshakable into my heart. Though unnamed, the poem carried the weight of that season’s silence and longing, and it became my voice before a gathering of minds and spirits.)
Daily Sauntering 
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