Here I Am Lord
Some lines in Scripture sound so simple and beautiful that we forget how hard they are to live out. “Here I am, Lord; I come to do your will” is one of those. We say it easily in church, chanting it with confidence and reverence. But when we step back into our lives — with its messiness, uncertainty, disappointments, and responsibilities — those same words suddenly feel heavier. They demand something real from us. We may be tempted to leave them in church and get back to our busy, everyday lives.
Following God’s will isn’t just about reciting a phrase. It’s about building a relationship. Like any love relationship, it requires more than just warm feelings. Anyone who has loved someone knows this. When life goes smoothly, love feels easy. But when things get tough, love becomes a choice — sometimes a choice we have to make again and again, even when we don’t feel loving at all.
Our relationship with God is no different. When life is good, it’s easy to say, “Here I am.” It’s easy to trust. It’s easy to believe that God’s will and ours are in sync. But when situations change, when the road becomes difficult or confusing, when God’s plan seems to lead us somewhere we never expected and don’t want to go, that’s when those words truly become an act of faith.
“It’s easy to follow God
when He agrees with us,
but it’s entirely different
to follow Him
when He doesn’t.”
Sometimes we follow God’s will because it aligns smoothly with our own plans. It feels good, right, a confirmation that we’re on the same page. But the real challenge comes when God’s will pushes us beyond our comfort zone — beyond our preferences, boundaries, and even the political positions we’ve become attached to. It’s easy to follow God when He agrees with us, but it’s entirely different to follow Him when He doesn’t.
Today’s Psalm calls us into that deeper form of love. Not sentimental love. Not “feel-good” love. But the kind of love that is willing to release our own desires long enough to trust that God’s way, even when it’s not easy, remains the way of life.
“Here I am, Lord; I come to do your will” is not a sign of perfection. It’s not a declaration that we have everything figured out. It’s not even a promise that we won’t resist or hesitate. It is, instead, the language of willingness. The language of someone who loves God enough to keep showing up, even when the path is unclear.
And maybe that’s the heart of it. Doing God’s will isn’t about feeling holy. It’s not about chasing spiritual warm fuzzies. It’s about choosing love — choosing God — even when it’s inconvenient, uncomfortable, or stretches us in ways we never expected. It’s about trusting that God’s will isn’t meant to trap or punish us, but to guide us into a deeper, more genuine life.
We also need to be patient with ourselves. We will fail at this. We will choose our own will over God’s. We will resist. We will bargain. We will say “Here I am” with our lips while our hearts are halfway out the door. And God knows this. God expects this. God loves us through this.
Every love story — whether with another person or with God — involves moments of reconciliation. We apologize. We seek forgiveness. We try again. And in that effort, in that return, in that humble willingness to start over, love deepens.
Maybe that’s the true message of today’s Psalm. Not that we are perfect disciples, but that we are willing ones. Not that we always get it right, but that we keep coming back. Not that we never struggle, but that we trust God enough to keep saying, “Here I am,” even when we’re trembling.
Following God’s will is the highest act of unconditional love. Like all genuine love, it’s expressed through choices—one trustful moment at a time, one whispered “yes” at a time.
So today, we ask for the courage to speak those words honestly. And we pray for the grace to live them — imperfectly, haltingly, lovingly — in the real world God has given us.
We are here, Lord, we come to do your will.
In God’s Unending Love,
Gwen Coté
