Meet Ginni Beam

As teenagers, my friends and I had many late-night, Mountain Dew-fueled conversations about life, the universe, and everything else. Once, we found ourselves discussing a hypothetical technology that would allow users to sleep indefinitely in a prolonged dream state.

“I’d totally do it,” I said. “Sleep is the best part of life.” No pain. No consequences. Just rest and escape from everything.

My friend Daniel looked at me like I was crazy. “Why not just commit suicide at that point?”

I shrugged. Good question. After years of crippling depression, suicide was often on my mind, despite my professed faith in God. Since I knew where I was going after I died, why shouldn’t I skip to the part with no more weeping or pain?

Daniel shook his head. “If I’m still here, I figure God still has work for me to do.”

The conversation moved on. I’m sure no one else remembers that brief exchange, but nearly a decade later, I think of it often. For years, I acted like my life belonged to me. In that context, it made sense to try to maximize pleasure, minimize suffering, and peace out if that wasn’t possible. But “my” life was never mine. God purchased it with the sacrifice of His Son and entrusted it to me to be lived in obedience to His Spirit. My whole decision-making foundation has to change. It’s a point Paul hammers home in the book of Romans (see especially in Romans 6-8 and in Romans 12:1-2).

When God is my master, His Spirit guides everything I do: the small things—such as which holidays I celebrate and which foods I eat—and the big things—such as how and when I die. I must follow the direction of the Holy Spirit by the power of the Holy Spirit, not by my own willpower, which always fails in the end. And when I do slip up and try to take my life back for myself, fixing my sights on my own pleasure and gain, I don’t despair. After all, I’m still here. God must not be done with me yet.