Hammer on Anvil '

Toward the end of 2011, I began to re-read a favorite biography titled Rees Howells, Intercessor. In some ways I wish I had not done it. I only got as far as chapter four, when God so convicted me that I spent an evening on my knees, weeping and crying out in repentance.

This particular chapter detailed Howells’s own experience of dying to self. I know – not a popular topic, but one we are called to if we profess Christ. My eyes began to blur with tears as I read the account. I was humbled and filled with remorse as God began to show me how my own life needed to be brought under His control. Sounds pretty basic, right? When you accept Christ as your Lord, it’s a contract of sorts – He saves you from hell and eternal death, and in turn, you give your life in service to Him. I think many of us stop short of fulfilling our part of the bargain.

Why do we run from God as we do? Mark Galli explains it well in his book, A Great and Terrible Love:

Why do we avoid the call of God on our lives? I know that the more I give
myself to that call, the more I must crucify the self. The more I do that, the
more I meet Jesus the crucified, and that is indeed a mercy. But in that
meeting, I am always called to a deep crucifixion. No thanks, I say. And so
I flee the call of God, and run from the presence of the Lord.

Our culture does not do “dying to self” very well. I remember very clearly a meeting of church deacons several years ago. We were seeking God about important church matters, and my husband and I suggested that we all fast and pray. One of the deacons immediately objected and said, “Are you kidding? I can’t even stay on Weight Watchers!” She thought it was funny, but I know it grieves the heart of God when His children are undisciplined and their faith is shallow.

As I prayed that night, God reminded me (again!) that I am not my own – I have been purchased with the precious blood of His Son. Dying to self means exactly that: dying. I cease to be. My wants, my desires, my prejudices, my stubbornness, and my need to be right all the time. All of it is nailed to the Cross, and I become entirely His. The result is a life poured out in service to God and His purposes. And, as Oswald Chambers says, “The only impression left by such a life is that of the strong calm sanity that Our Lord gives to those who are intimate with Him.”