Growth Often Feels like Death

“So if you have been raised with Christ, seek the things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.”

Colossians 3:1-4

As some of you know, this past month I have faced extreme sickness that has left me out of work, out of family life, desperate for relief, and bed-ridden. 

Many moments I have been in such discomfort, I could barely think, let alone read my Bible or pray anything but simply beg God for mercy. 

But this past month isn’t the first of me feeling stripped of strength, health, comfort, confidence, or sense of purpose. In fact, my whole life has been a process of stripping, as is the Christian life (albeit in varying degrees). And at times, that stripping has led to God using my life to be an encouragement to others or opportunities that have felt somewhat “redemptive”. 

However, as my sense of value, purpose, and any measurable “fruit” has been stripped at times, I’ve noticed a subtle lie that tempts me to question my faith and, at times, the goodness of God. The belief that growth and purpose in the Christian life means having something of measurable value to show for it. Maybe it’s serving, starting a ministry, writing a book, or speaking of what God has done in my life. Maybe it’s making sure I’m expressing joy in my suffering, reading God’s Word every day or devouring enough Christian books. Maybe it’s raising my kids to know Jesus, going to war with sin (or let’s be honest – at least not letting any patterns of sin be obvious to those around me), to heal from trauma, have a powerful testimony, and a million other ways. 

But here’s the thing – although it’s important that we do see growth in our life as evidence of the Spirit’s work in us, and many of those things are still “good” things, sometimes we equate “spiritual growth” and evidence of God’s work in our life with the measurable impact of how see him using or redeeming it. We equate God’s favor with blessing our ministry. We equate his blessing with providing good health to accomplish what we believe he wants us to. We believe if he takes something from us, he will redeem it by giving us something of equal or greater value in our earthly eyes.

But the truth is, growth in Christ means death to everything else – including our idea of how his promises should play out in ways that make sense to us today. He doesn’t always restore ten children after allowing ten to be taken, as he did in Job’s life. He doesn’t always heal our loved ones as he did Lazarus. He doesn’t always lead us to a land of milk and honey in this lifetime as he did the Israelites. He doesn’t always give us a thriving ministry after experiencing immense suffering, as he did in Paul’s life.

That sounds counterintuitive to the truth that God also wants to fill us with joy, contentment, and peace. But the more I am stripped of these “good things”, the more I’m realizing that to be filled with these things, I must first be emptied of everything else. And that requires death. Death to self. Death to expectations. Death to the desire to be known by others. Death to independence. Death to my suffering feeling purposeful and used. Death to comfort. Death to significance. Death to my own strength. Even death to my own sense of “spirituality”. 

Because the truth is, when all the excess is stripped away and we are left with nothing but finding our sole identity and value in Jesus himself, there is a quiet rest, fullness, and satisfaction found that isn’t measurable to us or those around us. And it may never be in this lifetime. We may be stripped of everything but never get a chance to write a book about it. We may lose our health or abilities and never understand why until eternity. We may spend years preparing for missions and then God calls us to minister to our special needs child instead. We may have gifts and abilities and never see them used in the way we desired. We may never get to leave our bed again and have nothing to show for our life but a persevering faith that few will see until eternity. 

And maybe, the small deaths we feel as a result are actually where we’ll find the most sacred places of faith. Places too sacred to even put words to. Places that are so wrapped up in a mixture of grief and joy, and agony and peace, that we are left speechless, humbled, and quieted. We experience holy ground that is only found when death to self and this life meets life in Christ. And we realize that don’t need anything else beyond it. 

I don’t want the death. None of us do. It’s agonizing. But it’s the path to life. And maybe what we choose to pursue and find value in will be entirely changed as we begin to taste where true life and fulfillment is found. Being made empty to truly know the fullness of Christ. 

And maybe, just maybe – we’ll stop ceaselessly striving for something else because we’ve finally died to truly live. 

“For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh.”

2 Corinthians 4:11

Home is around the corner,

Sarah Walton

To read more of Sarah’s writings, you can purchase a copy of He Gives More Grace: 30 Reflections for the Ups and Downs of Motherhood, Hope When It Hurts: 30 Biblical Reflections to help you grasp God’s purpose in your suffering), Tears and Tossings (short evangelistic resource on how God carries our sorrows), or Together Through the Storms (for married couples navigating the trials of life).