As a college student, I remember a conversation with an acquaintance of mine who was known to be a very intelligent, A+ kind of student. We talked about school, and I joked with him, saying he must really like to study, seeing as he was so academically accomplished. He looked at me, surprised, and shook his head. He then something that has stuck with me ever since:
“Sometimes, it feels like dying.”
Sometimes it feels like dying…
Throughout nursing school and into my personal and professional life, I have been reminded of this conversation. And recently, I’ve been ruminating on this again.
Perhaps it’s a combination of living through a pandemic, listening in on the constant and divisive rhetoric between political parties, hearing about another act of gun violence, all combined with me just trying to raise and love my family well, but I find that the little things are becoming more and more difficult to raise my eyes and hands to do. Work feels hum-drum, and I’m struggling to stay interested in the day-to-day tasks at my job and also being present with my kids and my husband in meaningful ways. Sometimes, doing the day-to-day feels like dying.
I am very aware that in today’s culture, there is a strong push to lean in to the things that feel good, natural, and joyful. And I actually agree with some of that. In the Westminster catechism, the first question is “What is the chief end of man,” to which the response is,
“The chief end of man is to glorify God, and to enjoy Him forever.”
Joy is meant to be an integral component in our relationship with God. In Psalm 144:15, David writes, “joyful indeed are those whose God is the Lord!”
However, we also have verses that show how difficult it is to live in line with God, and it doesn’t always feel good. We have conflicting emotions and thoughts all the time (see Romans 7:19 – For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.)
Suffering is real, and the writers of scripture acknowledge that life includes suffering (See all of Lamentations)
But the writers of scripture also acknowledge that there is something in suffering, specifically in the act of discipline, that deepens and shapes us in true and meaningful ways:
Psalm 119:71-72 – “My suffering was good for me, for it taught me to pay attention to your decrees. Your instructions are more valuable to me than millions in gold and silver.”
1 Corinthians 9:24 – “Don’t you realize that in a race everyone runs, but only one person gets the prize? So run to win! All athletes are disciplined in their training. They do it to win a prize that will fade away, but we do it for an eternal prize. So I run with purpose in every step. I am not just shadowboxing. I discipline my body like an athlete, training it to do what it should. Otherwise, I fear that after preaching to others I myself might be disqualified. “
There is a concept in the Christian faith that we call “dying to self.” In a conversation with his disciples, wherein Jesus addressed his own coming death and sacrifice, he said to them, “whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but however loses their life for me will find it.” (Matt. 16:24-25)
There is a personal reason why these reflections have been coming up; the last few weeks have been labor-intensive, perpetually exhausting, and it has felt like dying. There is a constant, constant chipping away at my personal desires and my hunger for rest in order to love well and live by my values, not just my feelings. Granted, rest is a valid need in scripture, and in fact, it’s a gift given to those whom God loves (Psalm 127:2). I’m learning to balance rest with living, but I think right now, I’m in a season of life where rest is hard to come by.
In today’s culture, I can imagine a certain level of outrage at this. Why shouldn’t I get rest?! Why shouldn’t I do what gives me joy?! Life shouldn’t feel like death, and it’s unhealthy to think that way! OR… I should find ways to trick my brain in order to make it feel good about things I don’t normally feel good about! (Tiktok abounds with stuff like this!)
I absolutely understand that, because I do believe that there needs to be healthy boundaries in order not to burn out and eventually burn down our lives and the lives of those we love. I don’t mean that we should look for suffering or the experience of pain in a masochistic way, hoping that we can use suffering to buy or force our way into joy. What I am trying to speak into is that struggle of reconciling what scripture tells us about the joy that is supposed to exist in living with God, while also addressing what it looks like for us to die to ourselves in order to have more life, more substance.
I felt compelled to address this because there are a few things about the concept of “dying to self” that matter when we have decided to try and steward our whole selves in a way that aligns to God’s purpose. There is Joy. But there is sometimes soul wrending work. (Imagine Jesus as he sweat blood in his anguished prayers in the garden of Gethsemane.)
An old pastor of mine explained spiritual disciplines to me in a way that feels relevant to this idea. Performing spiritual disciplines like reading scripture, prayer, or fasting do not in and of themselves mean that God will feel present with you every time, that Jesus will always show up, and that the Holy Spirit will always move when you do them. Sometimes, the reading is droll, prayer feels dry, and fasting just aches. However, when we make intentional movements towards God, God honors these movements. There is no 1-to-1 ratio or equation that ensures God will feel tangibly present, but by moving ourselves into spaces to meet with God, we may find ourselves more frequently in God’s presence.
This goes for a lot of things in life; in the way I love my husband, in the way I love and disciple my children, in the way I care for my patients, in the way I try to be a blessing to my coworkers and friends and family… There will not always be joy. There is no guarantee of it either. The great hope is that in the act of dying to myself, in practicing elevating the needs of others before my own in God-conscious ways, Jesus will somehow make himself more known and more beautiful to me than I might have found him before.
I know it’s been a long post already, but I quickly want to tie this in to stewarding our bodies well. We’ve all done a diet or gotten really into a workout regimen, but found ourselves bored, uninterested, and failing over and over again. We have been discouraged, and maybe we’re on our umpteenth try. I want to remind us first of Grace, that God is not in this relationship with us because we are perfect. He finds us valuable because we are his children. He is interested in our whole selves. And he knows we are not perfect.
But I also want us to be aware that the journey toward wholeness, health, and wise stewardship of the resource that is our bodies (and minds!) won’t always be exciting, interesting, fun, and joyous. It will sometimes be painful, difficult, and it will feel like dying. The goal isn’t to do it for the sake of finding an adrenaline high or to look terrific in the mirror, or even to feel confident in ourselves. Our bodies are a resource God has given us to use for his glory (and thereby our joy), and are meant to be used from nerve-ending to nerve-ending and cell-to-cell for the sake of worship.
I send this out, not to discourage those of us trying to steward our health and bodies well into anticipating only drudgery. If you are feeling that sense of hum-drum, that being faithful in the little things like holding on to a fitness regimen, or a healthy diet, or battling all manner and kinds of addictions is difficult, know that we will have moments of weakness. But also know that God may be doing something when we make the effort to show up. He is with us in those moments. Our hope is that through the daily, regular acts of faithfulness, he is able to do more with our efforts than we ourselves are capable of.
What are things you are trying in an effort to steward your body well where you might resonate with the idea of “it feels like dying”? What has helped? What hasn’t? Do you have a story of encouragement to share? Please feel free to comment below! I would love to hear from you!
wxxp0n