The day you die to yourself
No one talks about the day you die to yourself.
There's a sound to death. It's heavy and felt deep inside your soul. "I don't know what to say," is murmured with a downward gaze in the receiving line. Death. It seems like it's so far away on your timeline, in the outlying plans of our busy lives. We can barely make death out, a tiny mirage wavering in the distance. If you squint, you might be able to make it out. As Christians, we hear about dying to ourselves, laying down our flesh at the feet of Jesus and crying out please change it, remove it, eliminate it, or give me the strength to fight it. But what happens when you altogether die to yourself, not because the Lord is pushing you to but because He's asking you to choose it? The day you stop hiding behind yourself and finally start understanding what it was you were pretending not to know, dying to yourself. Your world as you have forever known it ceases to exist. You know you mentally, physically, emotionally, and faithfully, you can't move forward in some or all of those aspects. Just think about the most absolutely true thing that you've revolved your whole framework of life around... out of family obligation, out of financial need, out of people pleasing, parental pleasing, out of sheer praise for the talent, out of the motivation to be seen, to hold value, and to matter to others around you, out of fear of failure... and that thing becomes too immensely heavy to carry anymore. Jesus kindly asks you to hand it over.
You could certainly avoid the day you die to yourself.
You can escape the conversation with yourself. I have for years. I wasn't willing to sit down and take the time to see how my self-made situation was eating away at my mental health, crumbling my once-upon-a-time fervent passion, and draining my flimsy finances with a constant rapid drip. Maybe my skin has thinned after so many years of trying to show up for people. I couldn't process how to "not take it personally" anymore, even when, perhaps, it wasn't. How much longer was I willing to frantically hold on and struggle internally? (Too many years to make it make sense) How could I ever let so many people down? (I did) How many more nights could I doom-scroll without sleep? How long could I have attempted to make ends meet and yet burn the candle at both ends, ultimately affecting my family in more ways than one? How many more days would my friends and husband have to remind me to eat? (or take my meds, or shower, or...) How many more times was I willing to entertain self-hate and self-harm?
I began to see how I would undoubtedly not just believe but claim every bad/negative/underhanded/low blow/complaint/inadequate thing said about me behind closed doors or in public. That realization was the moment I knew I was letting the enemy get extremely close. He'd been creeping in for a long time now. And wouldn't that make the enemy so happy? The knife of pressure cut into my self-esteem so much that I felt incapable of making any decision, unable to move in any direction without injury. The fear of disappointing people, making one wrong move was crippling for me. How would this all really end? (I was scared to find out) How much longer could I pretend and mask to everyone that everything was fine?
No one talks about the day Jesus says it's time to shift priorities.
When He tells you no more, to this identity you've created, to this life that you strived for from the very beginning, to die, to the image you built (or your parents constructed or your significant other has imposed on you, etc., etc.). He clearly says it's time to embrace the change you've resisted for years. Suddenly, you see how Jesus is trying to save you from every spiral you've lost your way in and white-knuckled down. How He's trying to wipe every tear, you hysterically cried. He's trying to show you that your identity is in Him when you've questioned your value, importance, and worth in every other person beside Jesus.
No one talks about the day you die to yourself because it's a different level of honesty.
It's incredibly hard and painful. It would be impossible if not for the Lord. Dying to yourself isn't something anyone desires to do. You know there will be an aftermath. You know hearts will break. You know people will question it. You'll see the ugly side of attempted character assassinations. You understand that an explanation will not be enough for some. Few will know how brutal it was to turn away from something that you poured your heart, soul, blood - every single thing you had - into. You died honoring God, honoring your family and children, honoring your mental health. You’ll mourn for what was.
No one talks about the day you die to yourself because there is no timeline for when peace will come.
There's no acceptance letter you anticipate into the "other side." You can't hang on to the arrival of that immediate relief because this journey in death isn't over in an instant. This process isn't ripping a Band-Aid. Its long haul surgery. When you acknowledge just how powerless, limited, and out of control you really are and have been as a mortal human, you find that you have to walk out your death every day. Every single second is a second where you must cling to the hem of His garment.
No one talks about the day you die to yourself.
This world is so loud and determined, and death is so quiet sometimes. In the silence and prayer, we face our fears. The rejected Man of sorrows understands grief and dying. When the day comes that you have to die to yourself for Jesus, I know He will hold you tight because Jesus is close to the brokenhearted, to the misunderstood. Ask me how I know...
K Bye
Megan
Doing life… the best I know how…