Who am I?

Today's readings were from Exodus 20:15, Zechariah 5:3 and Romans 2:21. It is amazing how the Holy Spirit works.  These readings could have been a simple devotion on stealing. "You shall not steal."  And that would have been the end of it.  But nope, God decided to throw in Romans 2: 21.

This passage in turn led me to Matthew 23:3-28, Psalm 50:16-21 and Matthew 15:1-9.  I found this astounding considering over the past few days through prayer, bible study and other readings I have been really examining my fitness to serve the Lord.  It has been deeply on my heart to examine my motives, my desires and my faithfulness.  And here in these passages, God squarely confronts this exact topic.  He also gives some pretty stern warnings about leading people down the wrong path and being hypocritical.

Last night, I began reading (once again) The Cost of Discipleship by Dietrich Bonhoeffer.  Here was a man who by all accounts served the Lord as excellently as anyone in the last 100 years and yet he wrote the following poem:

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 home.

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, smiling, 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!

Now make no mistake about it, I am no Dietrich Bonhoeffer. But I struggle greatly with this inner/outer battle. It feels as though if those around me knew what was happening in me I would be considered an entirely different person. Lord, I am convinced that my only hope is to rest...No!...to cling to the truth in the last line of this poem. Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine!