Who Am I?
I recently have been reading The Cost of Discipleship written by Bonhoeffer. When I came across this poem. Bonhoeffer struggled with the battle between flesh and spirit. He was a humble man of God that radiated the love of Christ, yet, he was human, he struggled with loving this world, with giving in to the flesh. Thus, the reason for the poem and the battle that lies within.
Who Am I?
Who am I? They often tell me
I stepped from my cell's confinement calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
like a Squire from his country house.
Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders
freely and friendly and clearly,
as though it were mine to command.
Who am I? They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
equably, smilingly, proudly,
like one accustomed to win.
Am I then really that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat,
yearning for colours, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
thirsting for words of kindness, for neighbourliness,
tossing in expectation of great events,
powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.
Who am I? This or the Other?
Am I one person to-day and to-morrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
and before myself a contemptible woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army
fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?
Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine!
After reading this, I knew this was apparent in my life. The inner struggle of life and knowing who I really am. People say one thing, I know another. There is no way people can really see who I am truly; I sit in turmoil knowing what I've done and what perverse demented things flow from my mind. How can one say I am, but a wretched sinner clothed in filthy rags? And that I am, yet I am a wretched sinner saved by grace. A hypocritical woebegone purposefully redeemed from the imprisonment of myself, made solely for glory of God.
Who Am I?
Who am I? They often tell me
I stepped from my cell's confinement calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
like a Squire from his country house.
Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders
freely and friendly and clearly,
as though it were mine to command.
Who am I? They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
equably, smilingly, proudly,
like one accustomed to win.
Am I then really that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat,
yearning for colours, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
thirsting for words of kindness, for neighbourliness,
tossing in expectation of great events,
powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.
Who am I? This or the Other?
Am I one person to-day and to-morrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
and before myself a contemptible woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army
fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?
Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine!
After reading this, I knew this was apparent in my life. The inner struggle of life and knowing who I really am. People say one thing, I know another. There is no way people can really see who I am truly; I sit in turmoil knowing what I've done and what perverse demented things flow from my mind. How can one say I am, but a wretched sinner clothed in filthy rags? And that I am, yet I am a wretched sinner saved by grace. A hypocritical woebegone purposefully redeemed from the imprisonment of myself, made solely for glory of God.
"For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person-though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die-but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Since, therefore we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life. More than that, we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation." Romans 5:6-11
