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People change. We have the wedding pictures to prove it.
But how do we know that the figure in that long-ago snapshot is the same person we can share coffee with today?
This is what psychologists call the Problem of the Self. Is there something lasting and durable at the core of every human being – a “self” that endures through every transition – or does a person’s identity change with every new social situation?
To address this question, philosophers have spent centuries wrestling with something called the Paradox of the Ship of Theseus.
According to Greek mythology, Theseus, the mythical king of the city of Athens, journeyed to Crete, where he slew the Minotaur – a half-man-half-bull monstrosity. In the process, he rescued the children of Athens who had been enslaved by King Minos.
To commemorate his great victory, the citizens of Athens commissioned an annual celebratory voyage in the ship of Theseus, which they kept moored along the coast.
As the years went by, the timbers of the ship began to rot. The Athenians faithfully replaced them, one by one, until not a single original plank remained.
Philosophers then posed this question: Is the ship of Theseus still the same ship of Theseus? If the components of the entire vessel have been swapped out, in what sense did the Athenians have the original ship that Theseus used to rescue the children?
We can address the same question by considering some of the world’s most popular rock bands. Over the years, Fleetwood Mac, Genesis, and Lynyrd Skynyrd have experienced significant personnel changes but have tried hard to retain their iconic identities.
The progressive rock band Yes has seen a revolving door of musicians and songwriters. If you go to a Yes concert in 2026 – and yes, Yes is still performing after almost 60 years – are you seeing the same old Yes because they’re playing the same old songs, or are you experiencing a new and different Yes because most of the band members are new and different?
How about your identity as an individual? Is there something about “you” that goes on and on no matter what?
Even though we never feel it, the atoms that make up our bodies are constantly being replaced. It’s estimated that the 1027 atoms in an average human being (that would be 10 followed by 27 zeroes – a very big number) are swapped out every seven years or so. Thus if you’ve ever thought that you’re not quite the same person you were just before the 2020 pandemic, it’s because you quite literally aren’t.
Each one of us is a living, breathing ship of Theseus. We’re the same. But different. But somehow still the same.
It’s worth noting that the atoms that used to hang out in your body may go away, but they don’t disappear. They’re just hanging out somewhere else.
Scientists state confidently that each of us is currently “home” to a number of atoms that have been part of virtually any historical figure you can name. About a billion of your atoms were at one time or another a part of Julius Caesar, Elizabeth I, Frederick Douglas, Babe Ruth, and Eleanor Roosevelt.
Elvis may have left the building, but he left his atoms behind. It takes a little longer for the atomic recycling of the recently deceased, but it’s likely that each of us right now owns a little bit of what used to be the King of Rock and Roll.
Which brings us to a much more interesting and redemptive observation: Physicists estimate that at least one billion of your atoms were once part of the King of the Universe, Jesus of Nazareth.
This is where the Problem of the Self truly comes into focus. Yes, we share some of the physical components that were once part of God’s own Son, who entered his own creation. But that clearly does not mean we are Jesus, or any other figure from the past. We are still “ourselves” in a unique and special way.
What does that mean?
The 20th century sociologist Erving Goffman popularized the notion of “impression management.” Goffman suggested that there’s no such thing as a human self. You are just the sum total of the masks you wear in various social situations – the impressions you try to make as you go from one conversation, one meeting, and one encounter to another.
Peel back all of your masks like the layers of an onion, and there’s no “you” anywhere to be found.
The authors of Scripture could not disagree more.
Throughout the Bible, human beings are identified as image bearers of the living God. Old Testament psalmists address themselves as a “soul,” a uniquely crafted whole person: “Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name” (Psalm 103:1).
Your soul is what has endured all the changes you have already gone through, and all the changes that still lie ahead.
And if you belong to Jesus, the Holy Spirit is renewing – “making new” – your very soul.
The apostle Paul reminds us that “though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all” (2 Corinthians 4:16-17).
Jesus declares, “What does someone gain by winning the whole world at the cost of his true self?” (Mark 8:36). Nothing matters more than letting Jesus continue the work of renewing our very souls.
Having just read these words to my wife, my wisest and most faithful critic, Mary Sue made the comment that this was one of the tougher reflections for her to receive and understand – that the notion of the ship of Theseus and inheriting one billion atoms from Genghis Khan might not be the most natural way to communicate God’s Good News.
If that happens to be where you are right now, let me offer some final thoughts:
There is something about you – something God-created and uniquely special – that is enduringly you.
And the one and only you has been called, chosen, forgiven, and redeemed by the God who has promised to grace you with his love forever.