May I be the husband of the Scripture. I know all too well that these are tritely impious words if I shun death. For I shall never love as Christ loved me, nurture as Christ has nurtured me, protect as Christ has protected me, or bless and edify as Christ has edified me unless I die to self. But oh my Lord Jesus, dying is so dreadfully painful and difficult because my flesh is so brutally enthralled with the sensate stimuli of this world.
For my flesh passionately desires to be served, recognized, encouraged, extolled, catered to, agreed with, and know the future is secure, and therefore opposes with a hellish ferocity even the very mention of death. Although I surrender to die to self and make no place for the deeds of the flesh (Galatians 5:19), it is a daily and at times moment-by-moment battle, for the flesh vigorously and rigorously wills to live, and so my flesh and spirit are in constant war (Galatians 5:17).
With bemoaning so deep in my being that I dare not, yea even cannot utter it, I have often been startled as one stormed in the still of night with the truth, “The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak” (Mark 14:38).
May I be meek, not weak and not relish in ingratitude.
For I must not merely be willing to die, I must choose death, pursue death, and will to being devoured by death so that Christ may live through me so that “I may know the power of the resurrection and the fellowship of his sufferings” (Philippians 4:10).
