Have I Truly Given God My Yes?

I could think about where He had brought me from, what He had forgiven, what He had rescued me from, and tears would stream down my face. I was grateful. I was hungry. I wanted to know Him. I wanted to read His Word. I wanted to talk about Him. I wanted to worship Him. I didn't have to make myself spend time with Him. I wanted to be with Him. There was a newness to it, a wonder, a deep appreciation that sometimes made the smallest reminder of His goodness feel overwhelming.

And I know that I still love Him. I know that. I am still trying to live my life for Him. I still want to obey Him. I still want my life to bring Him glory.

But as I listened to that song, I found myself asking a question that I think many of us may need to ask ourselves from time to time: Have I become stagnant?

Not lost. Not faithless. Not completely turned away. Just stagnant.

Have I become so busy that my relationship with God has slowly slipped down the list of my priorities? Have I become so distracted by everything happening around me that I have stopped paying attention to what is happening within me? Have I become so accustomed to God's goodness that I no longer marvel at it the way I once did? Have I allowed the responsibilities of life to crowd out the relationship that gives my life its meaning?

And perhaps most uncomfortable of all: Has my relationship with God become more about what I do for Him than about knowing Him?

Because I can serve God and still be spiritually dry. I can go to church and still be distracted. I can read Scripture and still read it out of obligation. I can pray and still rush through the prayer because there are ten other things waiting for me. I can worship with my mouth while my heart is somewhere else. I can know all the right Christian words and still need to ask God to awaken something in me again.

Jesus addressed this very thing in Revelation 2. He spoke to the church at Ephesus and acknowledged their works, their labor, their perseverance, and their discernment. They were doing many things right. From the outside, they looked like a faithful church. But Jesus told them they had left their first love.

Then He gave them a path back: “Remember therefore from where you have fallen; repent and do the first works.” Revelation 2:5.

Remember. Repent. Return.

That Scripture makes me stop because Jesus didn't simply tell them to work harder. He told them to remember. Remember what it was like. Remember where they had been. Remember what had changed. Remember the love that once burned so brightly. And then return.

Maybe that is what God is asking some of us to do. Not necessarily to start over. Not necessarily to do more. But to return.

Psalm 116:7 says, “Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the LORD hath dealt bountifully with thee.” Return, my soul. Come back to the place where you remember who God is and what He has done. Come back to gratitude. Come back to wonder. Come back to dependence. Come back to the realization that everything good in your life is not something you manufactured on your own.

The Lord has dealt bountifully with you. Have you stopped noticing?

Psalm 63 takes that longing even deeper. David writes, “O God, thou art my God; early will I seek thee: my soul thirsteth for thee.” He describes his soul as thirsting for God, his flesh longing for Him, and later says, “My soul followeth hard after thee.”

That is the kind of relationship I want. Not merely knowing that God is important. Not merely believing the right things about Him. But thirsting for Him, longing for Him, following hard after Him, and wanting Him.

And that brings me back to those lyrics: “You take my yes and You give me friendship.”

What an incredible thought. God doesn't simply want our obedience as a transaction. He wants relationship. He wants us to know Him.

Jesus said in John 15:15, “I have called you friends.”

Friendship with God. The holy God who created us invites us into relationship with Him.

And then the song says, “It's by Your grace I know I couldn't earn this.”

That is the foundation underneath all of it.

Grace.

I didn't earn His love when I first came to Him, and I don't maintain His love by performing well enough for Him now. I don't obey so that God will love me. I obey because He already loves me. I don't surrender because I am trying to earn His favor. I surrender because I have encountered a God whose grace has already given me more than I could ever earn.

And then come the words that really challenged me: “Wanna obey You. I wanna serve You. There's nothing You could ask for that I wouldn't do.”

Do I really mean that?

That is the question. Not when God asks me to do something I already wanted to do. Not when obedience makes me look good. Not when saying yes doesn't cost me anything.

But what if He asks me to surrender something I desperately want to hold onto? What if He asks me to forgive someone when I would rather remain hurt? What if He asks me to wait when I want an answer now? What if He asks me to give when I want to keep? What if He asks me to step into something uncomfortable? What if He asks me to walk away from something that feels familiar? What if He asks me to trust Him without explaining Himself? What if He asks me to obey when I don't understand?

Could I still say yes?

That is where the words stop being beautiful lyrics and become a heart examination.

Because it is easy to say, “God, You can have everything,” until God puts His finger on the one thing we don't want to give Him. It is easy to say, “I'll follow You anywhere,” until He leads us somewhere we wouldn't have chosen. It is easy to say, “I surrender,” until surrender actually requires us to lay something down.

And maybe this is why I needed to hear that song.

Because God wasn't asking me whether I still loved Him. He was asking me to look at how I am loving Him.

There is a difference.

I can love God and still become distracted. I can love God and still become comfortable. I can love God and still become spiritually stagnant. I can love God and still need to return to my first love.

And I think there is freedom in admitting that.

I don't want to manufacture some emotional experience from the past just because I remember how deeply I felt when I first came to Christ. I don't want to chase a feeling. I want something deeper than that.

I want a love that has grown roots. A love that has survived disappointment. A love that has walked through unanswered prayers. A love that has learned that God is still good when life isn't. A love that doesn't depend on everything going my way. A love that says, “Even here, Lord, I trust You.”

Maybe mature love doesn't always look like tears streaming down our faces. Maybe sometimes mature love looks like obedience when nobody sees it. Maybe it looks like forgiving when it hurts. Maybe it looks like getting up and praying when we don't feel like it. Maybe it looks like opening God's Word when our minds are tired. Maybe it looks like saying no to something because we know God is saying no. Maybe it looks like saying yes to something terrifying because we know God is saying yes. Maybe it looks like choosing Him again and again in the ordinary moments of an ordinary day.

Still, I don't want to lose the wonder.

I don't want to become so mature in my faith that I become unmoved by grace. I don't want the cross to become familiar. I don't want salvation to become something I talk about without remembering what it cost. I don't want God's mercy to become background noise. I don't want to become so busy doing things for God that I forget to simply be with God.

So I prayed. I asked God to take me back to my first love.

Not back to immaturity. Not back to simply chasing a feeling. But back to that place of deep gratitude and awe. Back to the place where I couldn't think about what He had done for me without being moved. Back to the place where I wanted Him, not simply what He could do for me. Back to the place where obedience wasn't a burden because love had already answered yes.

Psalm 63:8 says, “My soul followeth hard after thee.”

That is my prayer. Lord, let my soul follow hard after You again. Let me want You. Let me seek You. Let me know You. Let me be moved by Your grace. Let me remember what You have brought me from. Let me remember what You have forgiven. Let me remember how faithful You have been.

And when You ask something of me, let my first response be yes. Not because I know what it will cost. Not because I understand where You are taking me. Not because I am guaranteed an easy road. But because I know You. Because I trust You. Because I love You. And because there is nothing greater than knowing the One who first loved me.

Maybe that is the question we need to ask ourselves today. Not simply, “Do I still believe in God?” But: Do I still want Him?

Do I still hunger for Him? Do I still seek Him when I don't need anything? Do I still worship because He is worthy? Do I still obey when obedience costs me? Do I still surrender when I don't understand? Do I still make room for Him when life gets crowded? Do I still remember what He has done for me?

And if the honest answer is, “Not like I used to,” perhaps there is no need to hide from that answer. Perhaps it is an invitation.

Remember. Return. Come back.

Because the God who met you in your first love has not changed. His grace has not run out. His goodness has not diminished. His invitation to know Him has not expired.

Maybe our prayer doesn't need to be complicated. Maybe it simply needs to be: Jesus, take me back to my first love.

Not just back to the feelings. Back to the hunger. Back to the surrender. Back to the gratitude. Back to the wonder. Back to You.

If you haven't heard “Have to Have You” by Circuit Rider Music, I've included the video at the end of this post. I encourage you to listen to it, but don't just listen to the words. Let them examine your heart. Let them make you ask the questions I've been asking myself this week: Do I really feel this way about God? Do I truly live this way? And if He asked me for my yes, would I really give it?