I know well the words of Jesus about seed falling to the ground and dying, about when it does, it bears much fruit. Never is that life lesson more stark than in spring. I’m thankful for the life emerging from winter’s grip.
How ironic that I push against dying to self. I forget that leafy life will spring from such a death. I only picture the death of what I want, when I want it, how I want it, forgetting that God often surprises us with life in the most obscure, but perfect ways.
I want to learn what it means to be a living sacrifice. I want to be better at recognizing my own bent toward me-centeredness. I want to put on the sandals of a servant.
Lord, teach me. Mold me. Help me die to that which I value so that You, who I value more, will reign supreme. Birth new, green life in me. A spring-like heart. A mind bent toward you. Feet that do your bidding.