Unless a seed fall into the ground and die, it cannot bear fruit. So I have died over and over again. Jesus may have set His face like flint and gone to the cross. But my dying has not been nearly so dignified. I have dug in my heels, clawed at the dirt, and been dragged to my death by a Heavenly Father who knows better than I. He initially carried this rebel to the foot of the Cross, and He continues to keep me there with a severe mercy.
Now as the sun moves across the sky, I sense a change of seasons in my life. I am learning to stay put and hide in the shadow of the Cross. Now that I have learned to die, I am learning to live. And to live for God is to live for His glory. I sense that I have permission to look ahead at what God wants me to do rather than look back at what He wants me to surrender. The focal point must be His glory.
The fact of the matter is that it is the glory of God that slays me. No man can see His face and live. It is the Cross alone that shields me. Unless I learn to live for His glory, and His glory alone, I will never learn to live at all.