The Birthday and the Self

Today, I rolled out of bed after another poor night's sleep (fellow parents of young children will simply nod their heads in complete empathy), feeling slapped in the face by a particularly nasty cold. I'm a little ashamed to admit it, but the thought actually came to me: Wait a minute. Today's my birthday. I deserve a good night sleep, perfect health, and a day to do pretty much whatever I want.

Then, as I changed diapers, fed the kids breakfast, and prepared to go to work, while choking down whatever cold medication I could find in the cupboards, another thought came to me. A very different thought. A foreign thought that invaded the safe confines of my self absorbed world. A message from a totally different universe. A simple, lifechanging prase uttered by someone who gave his life centuries ago: If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me (Luke 9:23, NIV).

Birthdays can serve as a time to be... well... served. A day in which we hope or expect others to call, write, give gifts, and sing us some new version of "Happy Birthday to you." And, if I had it my way, everyone on earth would have the chance to feel so loved and appreciated on at least one special day of the year. On the other hand, birthdays can also point to something totally beyond ourselves.... to a reality far greater and grander than we can imagine.

When Jesus told us to deny ourselves, he didn't mean that we should supress our identity, deny our needs or issues, forget our dreams, or minimize our value as an individual. Quite the opposite, in fact. He told us to deny ourselves because only then can we see ourselves in the Divine context, from the standpoint of a Sovereign who created and sustains all things, and who must be followed as the Center of existance. Thus, whenever I silently step into the center of my existance--and I do so constantly--I find myself in a lonely, dark, and disappointing place, a place where I was never meant to stand. Such is the ultimate supression of self, the rejection of my true, creaturely identity, in favor of a self centered lie.

But today, on my birthday, what if I asked God to kick me out of the center of my life? To boot me off the throne? What if I asked Him to dwell there as the Object of my hope, trust, and worship? What if I denied myself and lost myself in service to a crucified Lord, forsaking every inviting opportunity to live for my personal pleasure, security, or advancement?

Jesus continues in Luke 9 with my answer: For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it. Jesus' call to deny the self is not a call to waste away in a loss of personhood. It's the only way to save and find the true self. Living with Him as the center of my thoughts and decisions, rather than my own selfish ambitions and insecurities, is the only way to save myself. Only the Savior saves the self.

We've all been in meetings or relationships where we were obsessed with making a good impression, totally preoccupied with finding the perfect thing to say.... unable to deny the self. But we've also been in situations where we totally lost ourselves in something great: a worship service, a service project, the birth of a child, a wedding, a sunset, putting a child to bed or through college, a world series victory (1987 and 1991 in particular). Those are the best moments of life, I believe, because they give a taste of what it's like to lose yourself, only to find yourself securely contained and defined by something greater.

The fact is that, as one birthday piles on top of the last, and as years pass faster and faster, we are reminded of the fleeting nature of life and time. Since birthdays--like time itself--are an unknown commodity and a limited resource (none us know how many we have left), they can either serve as a cold, hard reminder that our days are numbered, or as an undeserved but welcome invitation to see one's existance as part of something that will last long after we've blown out our last set of birthday candles.

God, we want to save our lives, but we know not how. Teach us the strange art of denying our 'self,' taking up our cross, and following your Son. Make that our calling, our ambition, our dream, that we might truly find ourselves in you: complete, whole, and satisfied fully. And may my--and all our birthdays--point us to the New Birth that comes from finally finding oneself, as a small but deeply loved part of the Kingdom of God.