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Why Living Feels like Dying



Photo by Jamie Street on Unsplash

Transition periods can be painful. Our empty hands don't know much and question us for releasing good things laid down. Things we used to long for. Things with big promises. Things not wrong from the outset, but beneath the surface, no longer fitting.


Like going to a chiropractor to get aligned, our bones crack and pop to get us where we need to be. What is needed sounds like death but is for life more abundant.


But why is it that every time God calls us to step out and live, or maybe come to life in the first place, it hurts oh so bad?


Isn't this obedience thing and walk with God supposed to resemble gold paved roads and pearly gates? Are we not to dance on clouds on earth?


Maybe there's a time for both, but sometimes living feels like dying because the true living can't begin without first laying everything down in surrender.


Surrender is at first painful.

We find that following God is not a playground.


With the past behind us and the promises ahead...

We are somewhere. Somewhere in the middle.


No longer holding onto what once was.

Not yet grasping what is to come.


Our hands touch solitude like a cold statue.

We dropped dead things in faith but results appear as a dance.

We feel for a moment, a fraud.

"Where is my faith?"


"What went wrong?" We might ask.

Our hands itch from their nakedness.

Our palms cry out, "Place something, place something."


We call out but silence calls back and we remember the old dead fruits falling to the ground proceeding obedience were only weight us down.


Solitude's chill reminds us the old dead skin peeling away, was by choice and for reason. It hurts to be here, but we know in our knower we sought God and did the right thing.


We tucked and rolled into the inner sanctuary where our true identity beams.

All we let go of was by His leading.


But falling toward life, we see, requires of us a dying process.


Death to self and every single thing that did not or does not align with the Lord's will becomes a way of living that feels like a lot of daily dying.

We see that the outer places do not come first.


Our inner being gets in line.


Slowly, it appears, order is birthed outwardly; fruits of agreeing with God.

"Yes, search me--change me. I am Yours."


From a dark, desolate place something will emerge, we know.

We will come out of this new, but the transition hurts.


We shield our eyes and step foot onto what seems like utter nothing.


In faith, as we have unharnessed ourselves piece by piece from all that is not the Lord's will, the voice of mockery screams we are insane, but we know free-falling into God's arms is safer than being bound by chains.


When the last hook's clink reveals we are free, doubt tries to creep in.

Whispers of, "Are you sure God told you....?" wage war for our attention and trust.

The battlefield extends and more questions seep in.


But we catch our breath and take every thought captive, knowing the old things must pass away to take hold of what's new.


Pain shoots high where the pricking takes place.

But we hold tight to our Armor as faith too, whispers, "Almost there."


We steady our footing in this new place, but there is no sound. Victory felt near. Our palms burn as doubt competitively whispers lies. "Did God really say...?"


But faith beckons us on. We know God is near. He is in us. Unknown territory won't dethrone Him in our hearts, we say.


The transition wilderness, desolate and shushed beholds unseen factors faith reminds us are for our benefit. Like a child taking first steps toward her father, we know He is there but we have to put this work in right now. We have to let this challenge do its work within or we'll never be able to run.


Empty and nonsensical this middle terrain area feels.

Our hands reach out. We grope as we step. Transition, how could you?


But in the isolated place of "Where am I and what is happening?" training grounds for faith, trust, and confidence in God is being forged.


Where our soles touch down, not knowing what the next step will exactly be, faith is becoming a beautiful masterpiece.


Where the trench of loneliness gapes in our hearts from old things calling from the rearview mirror, God promises to fill our every need--our every longing.


His filling spills into a pool of trust where we dive deep for the rest of our lives.


With the training floats off, with the buffers now gone, with the milk bottle tossed aside, we see training was needed. We become confident that He is who He says He is.


The road to transition is hard but true.


We arrive to the next place not by perfection having lit the entire path, but by faith rooted in His word.


When the rubber meets the road, we have faith that He holds our hand along the way.

We trust that He will accomplish what He set out to do in us.

We are confident that we truly are His children.


Transition did away with us so we could become new.


By faith, we let go.

By faith, we grabbed hold.


By faith, we cried out.

By faith, we leaned in.


By faith, we rejoiced.

By faith, in Him, we continue to win on the battlegrounds of becoming.




By M. E. Weyerbacher | Copyright 2020



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