“Take my life, and all that I have to give. Take my world, just inhabit all of it. Take my dreams, make me assuredly Yours.”
These words are not the easiest to sing. The first time I heard it, my heart broke. The gravity of those words weighed on my heart.
I was torn. A part of me was desperate for the conviction to sing those words. Another part of me that was grieving over what it would cost to sing it.
But I realised; I was singing out my life’s purpose. But what would it take for me to live those words out? What would it cost me to be sold out for Jesus?
A LIFE OF EXTRAVAGANT WORSHIP
I’ve been a church-goer for most of my life. But it wasn’t until I was 17 that I finally got serious with God.
I had grown up in a small semi-conservative family church, but the new church I was attending was turning out pretty different from what I was used to.
People were rocking back and forth during worship and arms were fully outstretched. People were on their knees, weeping openly. Nobody was too shy to proclaim that God was in their mess.
What bewildered me was that they had the same fervour for God outside of the church and on all the other days of the week.
Then there were all these new jargons I had to get used to. Extravagant worship. Laid down lover. Sold out for Jesus. What did they even mean?
In the midst of all that confusion, I came to appreciate my new church congregation’s unbridled authenticity and unabashed worship. What bewildered me was that they had the same fervour for God outside of the church and on all the other days of the week.
While we had our fair share of friction from our differences, their friendship spurred me on in my race back Home.
They showed me what it looked like to be sold out for Jesus. It wasn’t just some tacky-sounding slogan but a fully surrendered life. A life that isn’t free from grit or dirt but lived with the kind of love that keeps on trying.
The unrelenting way they pursued God’s heart resonated in me. In my slow yet sudden awareness of Who my life really belonged to, I rededicated my life to God quietly in my own heart.
I didn’t know it then, but it was purpose that was bubbling up within my spirit man.
There was no fanfare; it was a quiet resolve. I had tasted God’s goodness and I’d seen the fruits of the changes He brought about in me.
There was no other option. Life couldn’t remain status quo. And it was as if in the twinkling of an eye, I myself had changed (1 Corinthians 15:52). I didn’t know it then, but it was purpose that was bubbling up within my spirit man.
I was where I needed to be. It felt like I had finally come home.
During my recent bouts of depression, there was this quiet assurance that remained in me. I’d like to think that it was God’s grace for me – He preserved my life when I’d been so close to death.
Even from the distance that I had put between us, I knew He was waiting it out. He was waiting for me to come home.
After the longest time of giving Him the cold shoulder, I finally sat down to have a painfully honest conversation with God. My heart wept as I spoke about His goodness that triumphed through my failures.
I want to pursue His heart with reckless abandon – the same way He pursued mine.
I knew that the pain meant He wasn’t done with me yet. I was still going through the Refiner’s fire. I needed His strength to carry on.
Six years on from the first time, I rededicated my life to God once again.
It was my renewed commitment to run alongside Jesus in this race called life. I was tired of living life at a fraction. I made an altar out of my desires and asked the Holy Spirit to show me how to abide in Him (Galatians 5:16). I want to pursue His heart with reckless abandon – the same way He pursued mine.
It was the restoration of my covenant with God. I made it with full confidence that I had been appointed a purpose – one that I knew God had specifically called me to. I want to walk in a manner that is worthy of that calling (Ephesians 4:1).
It doesn’t matter that the blows will keep on coming. I’m reminded that even though my heart and flesh may fail, I know that I can draw my strength from Him (Psalm 73:26). I know I’ve come out from the valley with a bigger heart; one that has no room for expectations, just room for Him to make His home in it.
I’m reminded that this life isn’t for me to call my own (Jeremiah 10:23). I want my life to be at the disposal of the One who paid a hefty price for it (1 Corinthians 6:19-20). I prayed to have the heart of the woman who had wet Jesus’ feet with her own tears (Luke 7:38).
A life sold out always comes home. It doesn’t look back at the Father’s house in shame, it continues to return even after being away for too long. It continues to give it’s all even when it goes against all rationale – because it is secure in the sonship it operates under.
In that conversation, I told God to let my life to count.
I’m all in. Are you?