Am I the Same Me I Was Before? No!

I had an old friend who was a professional carpenter all his life. He had a hammer that he inherited from his great grandfather (also a carpenter), through his grandfather (also a carpenter), and, finally, through his father. He treasured it, because he knew it had been a cherished tool through four generations. He used it his entire life.

Over the time that hammer had belonged to his great grandfather, grandfather, father, and finally himself, the handle wore out several times, and each time it did, it was replaced with a new handle of similar form. Also, on several occasions, the metal head of the hammer wore away. On those occasions it was replaced with a head of similar form. The question arises of course, in what way was it still the same hammer?

Some folk will say, "no," perhaps, because they need the comfort granted by knowing that some sort of balance exists in the material, physical universe of laws that one can count on. They'll say, "of course it's not the same hammer. The original hammer is gone for good." While they may not admit it, they find comfort in the knowledge that human beings have a beginning and an ending in this world as well.

While we can reasonably assume it was not actually the same hammer, to my friend it was. Its identity continued to be that of his great grandfather's hammer. When my friend, and his father and grandfather swung that hammer, they knew they were swinging the same hammer its original owner worked with all of his life.

While we may think, "what difference does it make . . . it was only a hammer," in fact, we're quite similar to that hammer in a profound way. Not any cell of our bodies is the same cell as we started with when we were born. Every single cell of every single part of our bodies has been replaced by another physical cell many times. This is not only true from newborn to old man. It happens on a regular basis throughout our lives. According to experts in the fields of human biology and physiology, every atom in our bodies will be replaced approximately every seven years of our lives. For some parts of us it’s even more often. Every four months our red blood cells are entirely replaced. Our skin cells are replaced every few weeks. Our combinations of cells that go together to create blood, bone, muscle, liver, heart, brain, and so on are totally replaced on a regular and continuous basis until our bodies die. Yet, I go on being me. You continue being you. No matter how we may change, we have a continuity of self that we recognize and those who know us recognize. What is the nature of that self that remains uniquely the same, in spite of the fact that my physical body is continuously being replaced cell by cell?

The major distinction between me and the hammer is that while I'm still that same recognizable self, I've improved, deepened, matured, become more versatile, more intelligent; different, yet the same. There's a "me" inside this body that's beyond my physical frame; a consciousness, a mind . . . a soul, that's me; that regardless of how many times my body is replaced one cell at a time, continues to be me.

I wonder, if as science continues to develop, we might come to an age when our entire body can be replaced, cell for cell, neuron for neuron, memory for memory, with a more endurable body; a body that stays young and efficient for a thousand years for instance. Will that self within me hang around for the new replacement super-body? Will those who know me still recognize me as me? Will I still be the living soul that God recognizes as his child?

Some will say, "why delay Heaven?" My answer to them is that, according to the Bible that tells us about Heaven, Adam and Eve were created to live forever, and God told them to "take dominion over the earth (creation)", and God encouraged them in many ways to become all they could be.

It seems to me that God created us to become creators (in His Image), and just consider the magnificent marvels we've created. Eventually, we'll be able to create replacements to our physical selves that will last far longer than the bodies we were born with . . . perhaps as long as Methuselah (969 years old) . . . perhaps much longer. But the rest of my answer to those who seem to not appreciate this life enough to want it to last as long as it takes to do what one feels aspiration or calling to do, I say, no one will force you to take advantage of the science that may extend your life in the physical realm. If they offer you a vaccine or a heart transplant, just turn it down if you prefer to die and go to Heaven sooner, but don't try to limit the possibilities of those who don't find this life so boring or difficult.

Anyway, it's simply one of my thoughts. Peace and Love to you.

Robert Clemons, Author of The Four Rivers of Eden available at www.amazon.com/dp/B07YGQH and The Hiroshima Agenda at www.amazon.com/dp/B00XXCVODO If you liked this article you may like my novels. In them, I discuss the important things of life in the fictional world of a novel.