My grandfather used to say with a straight face that he owned one of Abraham Lincoln's axes. "It's had eight handles and six heads since he owned it," he'd say, "but it's still his."

I laughed at that when I was a kid, but now it sounds to me like something a bunch of philosophers might sit around a table and argue about: "If every part of a thing has been replaced, is it the same thing?" As it happens, there is a big table and a big bunch of philosophers, and they're still arguing. It's known as "The Ship of Theseus Paradox."

Theseus was a legendary Greek hero who saved Athens by slaying the minotaur. The Athenians preserved his ship in their harbor as a tribute. Over the years, as planks rotted, they replaced them with new wood. Eventually, every original plank had been swapped out. Is it still the same ship?

Is my grandfather's axe still one of Abraham Lincoln's?

It's a great question, and philosophers are still arguing about it.

Paul's words to the Corinthians would fit right in at that table full of arguing philosophers. If anyone is in Christ, he's a new creation - the old has passed away, the new has come. But that raises the same puzzle: If I'm a new creation, am I still me? If everything old has passed away, what am I then?

Here's what I know. The person I was twenty years ago—the habits and fears that once shaped me have been replaced, and probably will be replaced again. God's been replacing my rotted planks: bitterness for forgiveness, shame for acceptance, anxiety for trust. When I look back over the years, I can see it: I'm being rebuilt.

This is what Paul means when he says we become new creations in Christ. The moment we put our faith in him, something instantly changes. Our relationship with God is restored, and we're adopted into his family. But it's also the start of a lifetime of God rebuilding us to be more like Christ. We're not the same people we were, yet we're still ourselves. We become both new and more truly who God created us to be all along.

The Church itself has been under the same kind of reconstruction for two thousand years. Members who sat in these pews decades ago have gone home to be with the Lord. New believers have joined. Children have grown up and brought their own children. The "planks" of the Body are constantly being replaced.

Yet it's still the Church. The same Body that gathered in upper rooms and sang in catacombs. What makes it the same isn't the individual members—it's the Spirit dwelling in us, the mission we carry forward, the grace that flows through us.

So when you wonder if you're still you after all God has done in your life, the answer is yes. And when you wonder if the Church can really be the same after all these centuries, the answer is also yes.

Because our identity isn't found in the planks or the handles, it's found in the Builder.

Father, thank you for your patient work of rebuilding us, plank by plank, into new creations while keeping us wholly ourselves. Help us trust the process of transformation, both in our individual lives and in the life of your Church. Amen.

This devotional was written and read by Cliff McCartney.

Grace for All is a daily devotional podcast produced by the members of the congregation of First United Methodist Church in Maryville, Tennessee. With these devotionals, we want to remind listeners on a daily basis of the love and grace that God extends to all human beings, no matter their location, status, or condition in life.

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