Something Has to Die: The Surprising Grace of Dying to Self

Lately, I have been thinking about death.

I know.

Not exactly the opening you expected.

But stay with me.

I have not been thinking about death in a morbid sense. I have been meditating on the kind of death Scripture repeatedly invites us into—the death of self.

And, as I try to do whenever I read Scripture, I have been pulling the principle off the page and into the ordinary details of my life.

What does dying to self actually look like on a Tuesday afternoon?

What does death look like in marriage?

In friendship?

In parenting?

In my health?

In my schedule?

In the thoughts I entertain?

The more I have considered it, the more I have realized something:

There is a requirement for death in almost every area in which I desire life.

Something usually has to die for something better to live.

Relationships Require a Little Death

Consider relationships.

We all want meaningful relationships. We want good marriages, deep friendships, close families, healthy churches, and genuine community.

But relationships require something from us.

Time. Attention. Listening. Patience. Forgiveness. Presence.

Sometimes you have to take time out of a schedule that already feels full to call someone.

Sometimes you have to stop talking so someone else can be heard.

Sometimes you have to inconvenience yourself to show up.

Sometimes you have to put aside what you want to do because someone you love needs your attention.

Sometimes you have to surrender your need to be right long enough to understand someone else's perspective.

Something has to die.

Maybe it is convenience.

Maybe it is pride.

Maybe it is selfishness.

Maybe it is the need to have the last word.

Maybe it is simply the desire to make every moment about what I want.

That does not mean healthy relationships require us to erase ourselves, tolerate mistreatment, or live without boundaries. Dying to self is not the same thing as allowing someone else to destroy you.

But love does require the death of self-centeredness.

Friendship, marriage, parenting, family, and our church community require it.

Even our relationships with coworkers, clients, and people we serve require moments when self moves out of the center so love can take its place.

And that is a kind of death.

Apparently, Life Requires a Lot of Funerals

Then I started noticing this principle everywhere.

You want to become healthier? Something may have to die.

Perhaps it is the habit of staying up far too late.

Perhaps it is eating in ways you know do not serve your body well.

Perhaps it is a sedentary routine you have become comfortable with.

Perhaps it is the belief that caring for yourself is selfish.

You want to become more productive? Something may have to die.

Procrastination.

Distraction.

Perfectionism.

The constant need to be entertained.

You want greater peace? Something may have to die.

Perhaps resentment has to die.

Perhaps the need to control every outcome has to loosen its grip.

Perhaps the habit of continually rehearsing offenses needs to be surrendered.

You want to grow spiritually? Something may have to die.

There will certainly be things that cannot come with you.

Life, apparently, requires quite a few funerals.

And that sounds terrible—until we understand what is actually being buried.

Not Everything in You Is Supposed to Survive

We live in a culture that frequently tells us to embrace ourselves exactly as we are.

And there is truth hidden inside that message. Shame is not a healthy foundation for transformation. We should understand our worth and receive ourselves as people deeply loved by God.

But God does not want us to stay the same.

Not everything currently operating in us should be preserved.

Some things need to die.

Jesus does not merely come to make every desire I already have more comfortable.

He transforms me.

There are desires, habits, attitudes, thought patterns, and ways of relating to others that are inconsistent with the life He is producing in me.

Paul puts it rather dramatically:

“For if you live according to the flesh you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.”— Romans 8:13

Put to death.

Scripture does not always use gentle language about the things that are destroying us.

But notice something incredibly important in that verse: “By the Spirit.”

There Is Grace for Death

This is where the gospel changes everything.

God does not stand at a distance shouting: “Kill it!” while we desperately try to transform ourselves through willpower. He gives us His Spirit.

There is grace for death.

Grace to say no when the flesh says yes.

Grace to forgive when resentment feels justified.

Grace to remain quiet when pride desperately wants the final word.

Grace to get up and do what needs to be done when comfort wants another hour.

Grace to walk away from something we once thought we could never live without.

Grace to surrender an identity, habit, appetite, relationship, ambition, or attitude that no longer belongs in the life God is creating within us.

This kind of death is not self-destruction.

It is Spirit-empowered surrender.

We are putting to death what competes with the life God desires to bring forth.

The Flesh Will Not Volunteer for Its Own Funeral

Here is the uncomfortable part.

The things that need to die rarely volunteer.

Pride does not wake up one morning and announce: I think I'll leave you alone now.

Neither does selfishness.

Neither does unforgiveness.

Neither does an unhealthy appetite.

Neither does procrastination.

Neither does the need for approval.

The flesh wants to live.

That is why Scripture speaks of taking up our cross.

Jesus said:

“If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow Me.”— Luke 9:23

Daily.

There are deaths we choose again and again.

Yesterday's surrender does not automatically settle today's decision.

And that is why discipline matters.

Discipline gives our convictions somewhere to go.

It is one thing to say, I want God's way.

It is another thing to repeatedly choose His way when another desire is pulling in the opposite direction.

But Look at What Gets to Live

If we stop at death, we miss the beauty of the message.

Romans 8:13 does not end with putting things to death.

It ends: “…you will live.”

That changes everything.

The purpose of death is life.

Selfishness dies so love can breathe.

Pride dies so humility can grow.

Bitterness dies so the heart can become lighter.

Unforgiveness dies so we are no longer chained to yesterday.

Unhealthy patterns are surrendered so our bodies can be better stewarded.

Distraction is restrained so purpose can receive our attention.

The need to control everything loosens so trust can deepen.

We are not dying for the sake of dying. We are making room for life.

Wholeness Requires Surrender

This is deeply connected to our journey toward wholeness.

We sometimes imagine wholeness as continually adding things.

More knowledge.

More healthy habits.

More prayer.

More exercise.

More boundaries.

More productivity.

But perhaps becoming whole requires subtraction too.

There are things we cannot carry into the life God is forming within us.

Some things must be released, others unlearned.

And some must die.

Not because God wants less life for us.

But because He wants more.

Jesus described the paradox perfectly:

“Whoever loses his life for My sake will find it.”— Matthew 16:25

The Kingdom has always contained this strange mathematics:

We surrender and receive.

We decrease and somehow become more.

We die—and discover life.

Join Me in Thinking About Death

So yes, lately I have been thinking about death.

And perhaps you should too.

What needs to die in you so something better can live?

What keeps occupying space that God wants to fill with something else?

What appetite keeps overpowering your convictions?

What offense are you keeping alive?

What habit has survived long past its usefulness?

What part of self keeps insisting on being at the center?

Don't answer those questions with condemnation.

Bring them to the Holy Spirit.

Because the same Spirit who reveals what needs to die supplies the grace to surrender it.

And perhaps that is the beautiful mystery of death to self:

God is never asking us to die to something without inviting us into greater life on the other side.

So bring on the funerals.

There is life waiting to bloom.

I love you,

Oyin.