I kill myself.

Death hurts.

You see when I am told to die daily, I often forget that death is usually painful. It is seldom painless and simple but even when it is, it still hurts the people left behind. Death hurts.

To die daily is to say kill yourself. Dying daily is a nice way of saying that I have to kill myself everyday. In what world is that not painful? To wake up and then decide to die. Many times, it’s multiple times a day. When I want to crumble under the horrid feeling of anxiety, I die. When I want to give into the sadness that masks as comfort, I die. When I want to shout in anger and instead have to answer softly and respectfully, I die.

I kill myself.

To die daily is to choose death over and over and over. I feel we do not talk about the pain of living to die. It’s painful, hurtful and my chest squeezes in fright every time. I am here dying daily. I am here killing who I am daily. The tears on my pillow are evidence that I come back to life only to die again.

I can’t imagine this life and yet I’m living it so well. When I want to give up, I die. When I want to stop living, I remember I’m already dead. To live for Christ is to die. To be with Christ is to kill who I am for him.

We should talk about the perseverance it takes to keep choosing death, any kind of death because we have chosen Jesus. It’s a different kind of pain. One that we choose so we can’t complain. One that we preach because the life we’re promised after the death we die is eternal. One that we have to do because we know there is no other way.

I read a post about the rapture recently on twitter and what would happen if you’re not raptured. It reminded me of what I really want to live for and die for, it reminded me I have to die. I have to die. Today. Tomorrow. And every day after.

Dying.

Do you die?

And how do you feel when you breathe in that fresh air again only to die again?

I’m remembering a character in the Old Guard who was trapped in a metal box under the sea for years and because she’s immortal, she had been drowning and coming back to life for 500 years. 500 years.

I’m quite young. I haven’t given my life to God for up to 20 years and I haven’t killed myself every day since the time I decided he was everything to me. But I have died. And recently, I’ve been drawn to seek him and I can feel the urge to give up. Because to know him is to decide my life is not worth living if it compromises my relationship with him.

You see, this relationship with God is not easy. It’s death to self. Death to me. I understand people who reject this gospel and choice because to die, to kill oneself and to not know when the end is, is painful – add to that is the pain we experience every other day.

I kill myself.

It is not easy but I am doing it.

It’s Death to me.

Death to my desires.

Death to my imaginations.

Even death to my dreams.

Oh, it’s painful to kill all that I am to make room for who he is. This process of forever transformation that keeps occurring? Tough. Painful. Brutal. But worth it.

My solace is that as I choose death to myself, I am choosing him and that is enough. He is my love. So if I have to kill myself to love him, then I will and I must.

I will and I must.

So I die.

So I die.

Then, I am back.

Is it worth it?

Maybe I wouldn’t have been able to say yes a few years ago. But today? He’s all I know is living is worth.

“Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” 1 Corinthians‬ ‭15‬:‭55‬ ‭

Because if I have already killed myself to live for him then it’s not really death is it? So I am victorious in this world and the next and it is worth it.

To die, to kill myself for a glimpse of the presence of Jesus is worth it because when you really know him? You’ll die, just for him.

Is he worthy? Worthy of my death? Worthy?

If not him, then who?

So, yes he is worth it.

And so I die.

I kill myself.

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I hope the title wasn’t scary and even if it was, well, life is scary.