Losing SELF in Christ

The Lesson of Love: Chapter 8 - Losing SELF in Christ By J.R. Miller       "If anyone would come after Me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow Me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it." Luke 9:23-24       The Christian's first duty--is to honor his Master. He must be willing to sink himself out of sight--in order that the name of Christ may be magnified. It is not possible to both honor Christ--and yet to honor ourselves before men. The wreath on our own brow must fade--if we would keep the wreath for Christ beautiful and green. We must decrease--that Christ may increase. We must be willing to fall into the shadow--that the full light may be cast upon Christ's lovely face. We must be ready to suffer loss--that the cause of Christ may be advanced. But all this seeming decrease if we are true at heart to our Master, is only seeming. The honor on our brow is never so bright as when we have willingly stripped off the stars from ourselves to bind them on the brow of Jesus. It is easy to mar the beauty. We have all seen people chafing and envying, when position and influence once theirs--passed to others. There is no severer test of character than comes in such experiences as this. It is not easy when others achieve promotions that we had hoped to win, for us to keep our spirits gentle, generous, and sweet. It is not easy, even in school, to have another win the prize which we sought and hoped to take, and then not to feel envious of him--but to treat him with true affection, joining his fellows in sincere honoring of him. It is not easy in the home, for a plain, unattractive child to see a bright, popular, brilliant sister idolized and petted, receiving universal praise--while she, the plain, homely one, is neglected and left without attention--it is not easy for the plain girl to see this and yet keep loyal affection in her heart and join cheerfully and sincerely in the honoring of the favorite. It is always hard to decrease--while another increases, especially if it is at our own cost.       Yet only as we learn to die to self, do we become like Christ. Unrenewed nature seeks all for self--and none for Christ.  Becoming a Christian is the taking of Christ into the life--in the place of self. Then all is changed. Life has a new center, a new aim. Christ comes first. His plan for our lives is accepted, instead of our own. It is no more what we would like to do--but "What does the Master want us to do?" It is no longer the pressing of our own will--but "May Your will, not mine, be done." This is the foundation of all Christian living--the dying of self--and the growing of Christ in the heart. So long as there remains any self-will, any unsubmission, any spirit of disobedience, any unconquered self, asserting its authority against the will of Christ--just so long, is our consecration incomplete.       This lesson has its very practical bearing on all our common, every-day life. Naturally we want to have our own way. We like to carry out our own plans and ambitions. We are apt to feel, too, that we have failed in life, when we cannot realize these hopes. This is the world's standard. The successful worldling is the one who is able to master all life's circumstances and make them serve him in his career. He is the man who "increases" until he fills a large place among men. The world has little praise or admiration for the man who "decreases" in his property, brilliance, power, or prosperity.       But we who read the Word of God know that there is an increase in men's eyes--which is a dwarfing, shrinking, and shriveling of the life in God's sight. We know also that there is a decrease in human eyes, which as God sees it, is a glorious enlargement and growth.       The greatest thing possible in any life--is to have the divine plan for it fulfilled, the divine will go on in it--even though it thwarts every human hope and dashes away every earthly dream. It is not easy for us to learn the lesson--that God's ways are always better for us than our own. We make our little plans and begin to carry them out. We think we have all things arranged for our greatest happiness and our best good. Then God's plan breaks in upon ours--and we look down through our tears upon the shattered fragments of our fine plans. It seems wreck, loss, and disaster. But no--it is only God's larger, wiser, better plan--displacing our little, imperfect, shortsighted one.