“I die every day,” is what Paul used to say—
Not the ending of life, but the self fading away.
A pruning, a trimming, a cutting of pride,
So branches bear fruit with God at our side.
But self doesn’t quit. Oh, it fights and screams.
It whispers excuses. It plots, and it schemes.
I may say, “I’m fine. There’s no problem with me,”
Yet roots of opposing desires hide deep as can be.
Sin is a symptom of the sickness that runs deep,
A hunger for self-gratification that we want to keep.
But death to that hunger brings life that will grow,
For Christ plants new seeds in the soil where we sow.
So die day-by-day. Let the old ways be gone.
Let Jesus keep pruning until his life grows strong.
For when self is buried, God’s Spirit will reign,
And dying to self is eternally great gain.
