“We want to follow Jesus into the abundant life of resurrection, but we are less than enthusiastic about following him into the garden of Gethsemane.”
Peter Scazzero, Emotionally Healthy Spirituality Day by Day
These words jumped off the page at me during my morning prayer time. The truth within them required reflection. Have I ever followed Jesus into the garden? What has God asked me to turn over to death? And what has God resurrected in its stead? Tough questions to consider, and yet I found myself drawn to these two truths: there can be no new life without resurrection, and there can be no resurrection without a death.
The idea of dying to self was certainly something I learned growing up. Pastors spoke of “taking up your cross” (Luke 9:23), which they said meant laying down my own desires and find out what God desired for me. Bible studies reminded me that unless “a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (John 12:24). Over and over again, the Scripture and my teachers showed me the necessity of dying to myself.
Still, it wasn’t until my 40s that I really wrestled with God over the death of myself. Not my literal death, of course, but the death of the false identity I had built for myself up to then. Why did it take so long? Really, if I’m honest, it was because the false identity worked for me. Being the smartest person in the room, who always had all the right answers, was who I wanted to be, and I acted the part well.
A few years after I turned 40, however, my false identity came crashing down. The truth that I was not, in fact, the smartest person in every room, and that I did not, in fact, have all the answers became clearer and clearer. This realization, along with some buried medical trauma, left me sapped. I had come to the end of my own strength and knowledge. It even got to the point that I could not get out of bed each day without the help of God.
Thankfully, God’s great mercy revealed where I was in error. I was able to relinquish the false identity, constructed of my own thoughts, feelings, interests, and passions. I knew it was time to put this identity to death and surrender it to God. Additionally, I needed to grieve this false identity. Grieve its death, and also grieve the fact that I had believed lies. Grieve the limits of my humanity. And grieve the hurt I had caused others through my own arrogance.
On the other side of my grief, God resurrected the true identity He has created in me. God gently reconnected me to the world of women as I listened to His words about me. Through time spent being with God and being with God’s people, I was able to hear God’s voice more clearly. I could hear the truth of my identity and begin to walk in that truth.
My true identity, however, could not come to life until I had fully laid down my false one and allowed it to die. And I couldn’t lay it down unless I was willing to follow Jesus into the garden of Gethsemane: the garden of grief and death.
This past month, I realized God is inviting me into another round of death and resurrection. Taking on the top leadership role here at Outpost was not a decision I really considered until last summer. But after much prayer and discussion with others, I believe God called me into this responsibility. It would be easy for me to do this job through my own strength and wisdom. After all, God has equipped me in many ways specifically for this type of role and its responsibilities. My resume reads as a handbook of how to prepare for this job.
In these first six months, however, physical health challenges have resurfaced. Changes in our schedule at home requires my time and attention throughout the day. These circumstances impact my natural abilities. And, upon reflection, I believe this is a good thing. It is time for my reliance on my own gifts and abilities to die. God is inviting me into the new risen life, a resurrection marked by my reliance on God’s skill and wisdom in all things.
Admittedly, this will be hard to do. After all, I’ve spent over 50 years doing things under various amounts of my own strength and knowledge. Still, I trust that what God will raise up in me will be even greater than anything I can do on my own. Why do I believe this? Because I’ve seen Him do it before.
Maybe today you know what God is asking you to surrender. Maybe you don’t. Either way, I invite you to join me. Let us set aside our pride and fear, and give God our dreams and plans. Let us surrender them to death, that God may bury them on our behalf. Then, let us abide in Jesus, listen for the Holy Spirit, and trust God with the outcome. After all, God is the one who created us and knows and loves us best.
The path to new life is hard. Death requires mourning, and mourning often lasts longer than we want. And yet, what God will raise up out of the ashes will be beyond all that we could hope or imagine. Let us join Jesus in the garden, ready to say together, “Not my will, but yours be done, Lord.” Amen.
