What Lent Teaches Us About Dying to Self

The Lent of the Heart
Author Unknown 

When the noise of the world grows loud,
And I seek to rise above the crowd,
Lent asks for silence, a hidden place,
To meet my Savior face-to-face.
It is not the fast of bread alone,
But the stubborn ego I must dethrone.
To die to the self that craves the praise,
And walk instead in quiet ways.
It is dying when my word is crossed,
And counting selfish gain as lost.
To bear the sting of harsh reply,
And let the need for vengeance die.
A seed must fall into the ground,
Before the harvest can be found.
So I surrender my selfish will,
And in the stillness, I am still.
The cross is heavy, but light is the yoke,
When I break the prideful chains I broke.
To die to self is to rise and see,
The resurrection of life in me.

Reflection: 

Have you heard or used Shakespeare’s saying, “I died a thousand deaths?” Author Elisabeth Elliot used that phrase when referring to motherhood. The Apostle Paul talks about everyday death in Romans 8:36: “For your sake we are being killed all day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.” Paul also states in 1 Corinthians 15:31, “I die daily.” The question is: why must Christians die, especially while still living?

Laying Down Your Life 

There are stark differences between Elisabeth and the Apostle Paul’s meaning. One speaks of sacrificing our will and expectations for the sake of another. The other exemplifies living in extreme persecution and suffering for the sake of the Gospel. The kinds of deaths most of us face daily are the former: laying down one’s life by putting others first and seeking to thwart the endless consumption of fleshly desires.

When Elisabeth Elliot said she died a thousand deaths in motherhood, she was referring to the repetition of the mundane and the overwhelm of worry, exhaustion, and concern that all parents face on the journey. But motherhood can involve intense physical suffering too. As she says, bearing children is “…going down to death to bring life.” Sound familiar? Jesus epitomized this concept by bringing salvation to all of humankind when He sacrificed His life on the cross.

Rejecting Your Ego 

The author of the above poem writes, “Lent asks for silence, a hidden place, to meet my Savior face-to-face.” It’s in the silence, apart from interruptions, that we can breathe in His abundant life and exhale all that weighs on our humanity. The heaviest of all is our own sin and godlessness that is so easily collected on the paths we walk. If unreleased, it becomes a corpse’s weight: spiritual deadness making everyday burdens feel lifeless and immensely heavy.

The author continues: “To die to the self that craves the praise, and walk instead in quiet ways.” Sin is sneaky. Who doesn’t want the praise of men? Who doesn’t secretly long to be a human of great worth, fulfilling everyday accomplishments with passion and purpose? When others notice us, our egos soar. Yet the busier we become striving for things outside of ourselves, the farther we may drift from the perfect peace found only in His presence. Scripture beckons us to a quiet life. In fact, 1 Thessalonians 4:11 says to make the quiet life our ambition instead of using our ambitions for self-promotion.

So Why Must We Die? 

When considering dying to self, being persecuted for the Gospel, or sacrificing self-aggrandizement, we find that each are a response to Christ’s all-encompassing, overwhelming, reckless love.  

As our author notes, nature reveals the most profound model of death through the creation of the mighty oak tree: “A seed must fall into the ground, before the harvest can be found.” In the midst of dying, vibrant colors of late fall, the tree’s open arms release that which was birthed during lush, warm spring. Acorns are set free into the earth to take root. Nothing is lost.

Nor is anything wasted during Lent (or in life) when we find Jesus in the silence, asking Him to search our hearts for all that must be put to death in order to bring about a new, peaceful, and quiet existence.  

Mark 1:35 shows how Jesus’ withdrawal into silence and solitude preceded a powerful, impactful life that strengthened Him to serve others. When we follow Jesus’ example, true impact comes from the overflow of intimate, uninterrupted connection with God. This is why we must die. 

How to Die to Self

How then should we engage in the act of dying to self daily? Christians can put to death the deeds of the flesh by following the tried-and-true recipe of the poet: “To die to self is to rise and see, the resurrection of life in me.” As image-bearers seeking a closer connection to the Father, we can acknowledge that we are instantly justified—transformed from bondage to freedom and carried from darkness to light, from sin to righteousness, and death to life—when we become the branches of His fruitful vine: fully alive in Him (John 15:5).

This invitation is open to all. We can all walk humbly with the God who willingly humbled Himself to the point of crucifixion. He died and rose again to give us new life. By dying to self, we reflect the life of Christ with “joy unspeakable and full of glory” because we can be confident of the fruit it will bear “for a thousand generations” (1 Peter 1:8 and Deuteronomy 7:9). 

Questions to Consider: 

• Think about the last time you released something that hindered your relationship with Christ and others (a way of thinking, a hidden sin, an ego unwilling to be dethroned). What seed is God inviting you to release into the ground this Lent? Is there something you’re holding onto that must fall away so that you can bear fruit?
• Are you faced with unconfessed sin or spiritual exhaustion? What might it look like to fully surrender these burdens to Jesus? This Lent, be intentional about spending time in a hidden place, cutting out the distractions, pressures, and inner voices that make it difficult to hear God clearly. Where can you create space in your schedule for silence and solitude with the Lord?

Closing Prayer: 

Lord Jesus, You who chose the way of the cross for the sake of love, lead me into the Lent of the heart. Please quiet the noise within me. Draw me into the hidden place where I may meet You face-to-face. Search my heart and reveal all that must be put to death: every prideful striving, every craving for praise, every selfish desire that keeps me from Your peace.  

Teach me to die daily, not with despair, but with trust. Help me trust that no surrender is wasted, no sacrifice is unseen, and no seed is buried without purpose. When the cross feels heavy, remind me that Your yoke is light. When I release control, show me the freedom of obedience.  

Let my life bear the quiet fruit that comes only from abiding in You. May my dying give way to rising. May my surrender make room for resurrection life. And may Your love be reproduced through me for eternity. Amen. 

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