The Girl And Her God: New Clothes And Crosses

Matthew 16:24 says,

“Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”

For a long time, I thought denying myself meant giving up everything enjoyable. But as I’ve gotten to know God’s character better, I realized that couldn’t be what Jesus meant. So, I decided to look into it.

The Greek word translated deny means to utterly disown, renounce, or completely sever association with.

That raised an obvious question for me.

What exactly was Jesus telling me to disown?

Before we can understand how to deny ourselves, we have to understand what Jesus meant by “self.”

When Jesus tells us to deny ourselves, the “self” He’s speaking of is the old self—the part of us that keeps trying to claim the throne as its own.

It wants to be its own authority.

It places its will above God’s.

It views the world through the lens of self-interest:

My comfort.

My safety.

My desires.

My rules.

MY WAY.

For simplicity, I’m going to give this self-ruling part of me a nickname: Jerk Face. Not because that’s a biblical term, but because it’s a lot shorter than saying, “my old self that keeps trying to take the throne,” every few paragraphs. Besides… after watching this part of me for forty years, Jerk Face feels surprisingly accurate.

So, whenever I mention Jerk Face, I’m talking about that part of me that keeps trying to sit on the throne instead of yielding it to its rightful ruler, Christ.

Once I understood what Jesus meant by “self,” things started to change.

That realization helped me see self-denial in a different light.

I’m not denying the person God created me to be.

I’m denying a nasty part of me that was never meant to rule in the first place.

Jerk Face always wanted its own way.

It never had my best interests at heart.

Why would I ever want something like that sitting on the throne?

Suddenly, denying myself no longer felt like losing something good.

It felt like freedom.

Then I understood Romans 6:6 a little differently.

“For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body ruled by sin might be rendered powerless, that we should no longer be slaves to sin.”

I had another question, though.

If Jerk Face has been crucified with Christ, who am I now?

I started feeling like I was circling around an answer when I read verses like:

2 Corinthians 5:17

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!”

Colossians 3:9–10

“…since you have taken off your old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator.”

And a lot of other verses said similar things about taking off, putting on, and clothing yourself.

A pattern was beginning to emerge.

Scripture says that in Christ I am a new creation.

I’m learning to put off the old self and put on the character of Christ.

But putting on something new requires making room for it.

Jerk Face has to stay gone.

I’m not waking up every morning trying to kill a living master.

I’m refusing to let a dead ruler climb back onto the throne.

That left me with one part of Jesus’ command I still hadn’t really thought about.

What did He mean by “take up your cross”?

When I hear take up your cross, I think of something really difficult. I don’t know much about crucifixion except that Jesus went through one.

But as I began looking into what carrying a cross would have meant to people in Jesus’ day, I realized it was much more intense than simply doing something difficult.

When someone saw a person carrying a cross, they knew that person’s life, as they had known it, was over. They had surrendered control and were walking toward a slow, agonizing death.

That helped me understand why Jesus chose the image of a cross.

The death of Jerk Face hasn’t been quick or easy.

It has often felt like a long, painful attempt to surrender. And I know I still have a long way to go.

The old nature doesn’t give up the throne willingly.

It fights to stay alive.

When obedience feels painful, I can’t help but wonder if that’s because the old ruler is losing its grip while the new ruler is beginning to take its place.

The beauty of the cross is that death isn’t the end.

Jesus passed through the agony of the cross before the glory of the resurrection.

In the same way, the old self must be surrendered so the new life Christ has already given us can become more and more evident.

As I stepped back and looked at everything together, Jesus’ words began to fit together in a way they never had before.

Deny yourself — Disown the old nature and surrender your claim to self-rule.

Take up your cross — Accept the cost of that surrender.

Follow Me — Live under Christ’s leadership.

It’s a lifelong process where every decision becomes another opportunity to leave the throne where it belongs and to live out the new identity He has already given me.

Now I’m left with another question.

What does that actually look like in everyday life?

I guess I know where my next study begins.