I am yours; oh, that you would save me. — Psalm 119:94.
There are times, when we are willing to turn our life over to God but our commitment comes with conditions. Usually, we need a huge favor, we need to be saved from a horrible circumstance, an illness, or someone close is in trouble. Our psalmist seems to be doing this here. Yet, when we are through our crisis we often forget our promise to turn our life over to God until the next time we are in trouble. I wonder if God gets put out with us from time to time.
What has me thinking this morning though is something more than bargaining with God in a tough time. What does it take to say to God — “I am Yours.” No conditions, no crisis, just love and a willingness to put control of your life in God’s hands. Don’t say it won’t happen. We do so when we get married. I certainly did. For better or worse, in sickness and in health, etc.
Now I ask myself is it possible to do so with God, without conditions. I think it is but it isn’t easy if you go whole hog. We are each called to do so, but total control to another is not in our nature. It is worth considering.
This notion of unconditional surrender—the “whole hog” commitment—is where the real challenge lies. It’s one thing to make a grand vow in a moment of emotional clarity, much like a wedding day; it’s quite another to wake up every morning and renew that vow in the messy, mundane reality of everyday life. Our human instinct is to micro-manage, to hold back a few key areas of our lives—our careers, our finances, our deepest fears—just in case God doesn’t move fast enough, or in the direction we prefer. The commitment we seek isn’t a one-time signature on a contract; it is a thousand small, daily surrenders, releasing the tension in our shoulders as we consciously hand over tasks and anxieties we were never truly meant to carry ourselves.
When we reach the point of truly affirming, “I am Yours” without the transactional postscript of “oh, that you would save me,” we find a deeper peace. The saving isn’t a specific rescue from one crisis; the saving is from the fundamental burden of self-sufficiency. It frees us from the exhausting job of having to be our own protector, planner, and ultimate authority. This realization shifts the power dynamic from a desperate bargain to a relationship founded on trust and identity. It transforms the desperate plea of the Psalm into a calm, confident statement: I am Yours, and therefore, I am already saved—not just from the storm, but from the fear of the storm itself. Embracing this radical trust is perhaps the ultimate spiritual goal, and certainly one that will require a lifetime of practice.
Well said!