Who Am I

 

Who Am I?

I constantly ask this question—but to whom do I pose it?

Typically, I think of this as a question asked by myself to myself. An inward dialogue, exploring who I think I am.

But being unable to transcend thought in order to think has been my greatest obstacle—or perhaps the quickest way to bring those thoughts to a halt. Thoughts seem like packages of information, each containing both questions and answers. When there is a question on one end and an answer on the other, I call that sanity. But rogue questions—those unanchored, unbidden ones—can ignite runaway thoughts. These are the questions we ask in silence, hoping the answers are somewhere out there.

When I ask, Who am I?, my thoughts return the usual prepackaged answers: my name, my story, the history of my experiences. But on a deeper level, I’m aware of a universe in which even this thought is breathing. It occurs to me: I could not have thought this thought in the absence of such a universe.

It’s not simply that I am connected to this vast universe—it’s more accurate to say that even my questions and my answers are products of it. There is a Who-Nature that pervades all things, and it is to this Who that my ultimate question is directed.

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The Ocean of Consciousness

As vessels, we sometimes ask questions to sound out other vessels—to see where they are in this vast ocean of consciousness. But rogue questions are sounded beyond the reach of our senses. When there is no echo, our thoughts are drawn back to the one who asked.

Meanwhile, bottles filled with prayers—tossed into the ocean years ago—may just now be washing up on the shore where the answers have always been. Every question you’ve ever asked, and every prayer you’ve ever prayed, is eternally buoyant, riding waves among islands of answers scattered in every direction.

They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength…

Here is a collage of verses to consider. I’ve removed their citations to let their flow reveal something deeper:

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The LORD is good unto them that wait for him, to the soul that seeketh him. Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the LORD. For the vision is yet for an appointed time, but at the end it shall speak, and not lie: though it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not tarry. But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint. Rest in the LORD, and wait patiently for him... And now, Lord, what wait I for? My hope is in thee… Therefore will I look unto the LORD; I will wait for the God of my salvation: my God will hear me… And therefore will the LORD wait, that he may be gracious unto you… My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is from him… Be gracious unto us; we have waited for thee… Our soul waiteth for the LORD: he is our help and our shield… Because of his strength will I wait upon thee: for God is my defense… Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ… Be patient therefore, brethren, unto the coming of the Lord… I will praise thee forever, because thou hast done it: and I will wait on thy name; for it is good before thy saints.

~ Various KJV Verses (Partial)

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As you can see, the concept of waiting, of patience—it’s not mine. It’s ancient. As old as recorded longing.

We tend to look for answers within the scope of our experience. But what good is an answer if it lies just beyond our reach?

I no longer believe that life’s answers escape us. I believe they always have an appointed time.

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The Archer and the Delay

I consider those scriptures that say God is a God of judgment. That doesn’t just mean God is judging me—He knows my aim is terrible. What if it also means He’s judging His own responses to my questions? What if He weighs His answers with great precision?

God is an archer who never misses.

God is love. Love is patient.

God is always sending answers back to me. It’s just that I—the target—keep moving.

Sometimes His arrows, dipped in answers, pass so close to my head that I can feel them as they whiz by. And still, He smiles and says, “Be still.”

It’s not physical movement that causes the problem—it’s the inner withdrawal. We shift our inquiries; we rearrange the questions mid-air. We leave the positions we once held when we cried out.

If that's true—if I’m the one who moves—then why do the answers take so long?

Perhaps it's because we’re tossed about by every wind of doctrine, every mood, every despair. What if, in the depths of that despair, I mutter, “I wish I’d never been born”—and God, in infinite patience, waits for me to move again before that request is granted?

Like a pet-owner who refuses to feed his dog chocolate, God withholds what could poison me—no matter how much I beg.

A delay in God's response is often just as meaningful as an immediate answer.

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The Forgotten Reflection

This essay revolves around a question that remains unanswered: Who am I?

And yet I believe—if that question were answered fully, right now—it would undo me. It would overwhelm me. It would kill me.

So, for my protection, I’ve forgotten my reflection.

“For now, we see through a blurry mirror, but later, we will see the face. For now, we know some things, and we imagine separations; but later, I will know, as I am known, that I Am.” — I Corinthians 13:12 (MCV)

“If you hear this and do not carry on within the framework of this truth, you are someone who has looked in a mirror and stepped away, forgetting who You Are.” — James 1:24 (MCV)

“We are the sons and daughters of God, and we cannot see what we will become: but we know that, when God appears, we will be like Him; We will see Him as He is.” — I John 3:2 (MCV)

So… Who am I?

I am a wave—never as divided from the ocean as I imagine myself to be. In this ocean I live, and move, and have my being.

Somewhere on a distant island, the question Who am I? has washed ashore inside a bottle I once tossed. A man picks it up, reads it, and then—smiling—pulls a mirror from His pocket. He holds it carefully in the direction from which the bottle came. Redirecting the Light back to me.

I’ve been following those glimmers ever since.

When the One holding the mirror appears, I will see myself—asking the question for the first time.

In that moment, I will no longer identify as the one who asked. Instead, I will pull a mirror from my pocket... and shine it back toward Him. 

Selah

MCV – Mark Coker Version. A personalized, contemplative rendering of selected Bible verses, reflecting the author's own insights, language, and spiritual understanding.