“O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek… to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive. It is in pardoning that we are pardoned. And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.”

When I first realized that this was the line for this week’s Self-Care Saturday, I have to admit—I got a little nervous. 😂

I actually found myself thinking, Lord, please don’t let anybody die this week because I need a story for this post!

Silly, right?

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that perhaps St. Francis wasn’t asking me to look for death.

Perhaps he was asking me to look for new life.

And, as it turns out, that is exactly what happened.

This week marked the end of September and the beginning of October.

The end of one quarter and the beginning of the final quarter of the year.

Another season coming to a close.

Another one beginning.

And then, in the middle of an ordinary week, something happened that gave me a much more personal picture of this prayer.

My daughter needed a particular document, so I went looking through some of the files I have stored away.

As I searched, I came across an old programme from church.

And then, not long after, my son came to me with his Religious Education workbook.

He had an exercise to complete about his baptism.

“Mommy, I need to talk to you about my baptism.”

He had questions.

When was it?

Who was there?

What happened?

And suddenly, the programme I had just found became exactly what we needed.

I was able to show him the programme from that day, look through the details with him, and help him answer his questions.

What struck me was how something from the beginning of his life in Christ had been sitting quietly in a file all these years, waiting to be found again.

And as I looked at it, I couldn’t help but think about this week’s line:

“And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.”

In the Christian faith, baptism carries this beautiful symbolism.

We enter into Christ’s death and resurrection.

We die to an old way of life and rise to new life in Him.

Scripture Reminds Us

In Romans 6:4 reminds us:

“We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead… we too may live a new life.”

And suddenly, the line from St. Francis didn’t seem so frightening.

Because dying isn’t always about physical death.

Sometimes it is about letting something end so that something new can begin.

There are things we have to let die:

An old habit.

An old way of thinking.

A fear.

A grudge.

A need to control everything.

An expectation of how we thought our lives should look.

A version of ourselves that no longer fits who we are becoming.

Sometimes even a dream has to die—not because it was a bad dream, but because God is taking us somewhere we couldn’t see when we first imagined it.

And yet, we often resist endings.

We hold on because what is familiar feels safer than what is unknown.

We mourn what is leaving without recognizing what might be emerging.

But what if an ending isn’t always simply an ending?

What if it is also an invitation?

September ended.

October began.

One quarter ended.

Another began.

And suddenly, we are entering the final three months of the year.

There is something about the changing of a calendar page that invites us to take inventory.

What has this year asked me to release?

What have I outgrown?

What am I still carrying that I no longer need?

What part of me is ready to die so that something new can live?

And then I think about my son.

The little boy who was baptized that day is not exactly the same little boy who sat beside me this week with his workbook.

He has grown.

He is changing.

He is becoming.

That day is over.

The programme is now a keepsake.

The photographs are memories.

But the life that began that day continues.

Something ended, and something new kept unfolding.

Perhaps that is what happens to us too.

We move through seasons.

We become different people.

We leave things behind.

We begin again.

And sometimes we don’t recognize the new life because we are still looking at the old chapter.

Maybe this is why I love the image of the butterfly. There is a stage in its life when everything changes.

The caterpillar doesn’t simply add wings to the life it already had. It undergoes a transformation.

Something about its former existence has to end and something entirely new emerges.

Perhaps God works like that in us sometimes.

Not always by adding something to who we already are, but by asking us to release something.

To surrender.

To die to something.

So that we can become.

And maybe that is why the final line of this prayer doesn’t feel like an ending anymore.

It feels like a promise:

What dies does not always disappear.

Sometimes it makes room.

Sometimes it becomes the soil from which something new grows.

Sometimes the ending we mourn becomes the beginning we eventually thank God for.

And perhaps eternal life begins with learning to trust the God who knows how to bring life out of death.

As I think about the journey we’ve taken through this prayer, I realize how fitting it is that we have arrived here.

We began by asking God to make us instruments of peace.

We learned to sow love, pardon, faith, hope, light and joy.

We learned to console.

To understand.

To love.

To give.

To pardon.

And now, finally, we are invited to die.

To surrender whatever needs to be surrendered.

To trust whatever needs to be trusted.

To make room for whatever God wants to bring to life.

And perhaps that’s the work of intentional living too.

Not simply asking: “What do I want to add to my life?”

But also asking: “What am I willing to let go of?”

Because sometimes the next version of our lives cannot emerge until we are willing to release the version we have outgrown.

 

Reflection

Take a moment to consider:

• What season of your life is coming to an end?
• What have you outgrown?
• Is there a habit, belief, fear, resentment, expectation or identity that you may need to release?
• What are you holding onto simply because it is familiar?
• What might God be inviting you to make room for?
• As you enter the final quarter of this year, what would it look like to begin again?

And perhaps sit quietly with this question:

What needs to die in me so that something new can live?

Not from a place of fear.

Not from a place of punishment.

But from a place of trust.

Trusting that the God who brings resurrection can also bring new life out of the things we are brave enough to surrender.

 

Today my prayer is simple.

O Divine Master, give me the courage to let go.

Help me to recognize the things, habits, fears, expectations and versions of myself that I have outgrown.

Give me the wisdom to know what I need to release and the faith to trust You with what comes next.

When something ends, help me not to see only what I have lost, but also to remain open to what You may be bringing to life.

Teach me to surrender without fear.

To grieve without becoming stuck.

To release without regret.

And to trust that an ending does not always mean the end of the story.

When I must die to something old, remind me that You are the God of resurrection, renewal and new beginnings.

May I have the courage to make room for new life.

And when my earthly life is complete, may I rest in the promise of eternal life with You.

For it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Amen.

Until next Saturday!

Love, Talisha ❤️