My Permanent Yes Is Also My Daily Yes

I gave Jesus my yes.

Not for a season.

Not until life became difficult.

Not while I understood where He was leading me.

Not with an exit clause hidden somewhere in the agreement.

My yes was permanent.

My life is Yours.

My will is Yours.

My body is Yours.

My becoming is Yours.

Even my yes is Yours.

So why, then, do I wake up and give Him something that already belongs to Him?

Why say yes again today when yesterday's yes never expired?

Because my permanent yes does not remove my daily yes.

**It creates it.**

Surrender happened once.

And surrender happens again every morning.

Not because Jesus has forgotten my answer.

Because I haven't.

My daily yes is how I remember what my life is oriented toward.

It is the yes I give when I wake tired.

The yes I give when I don't understand.

The yes I give when what I want and where I feel led seem to stand in different directions.

The yes I give when obedience is easy.

And the yes I give when I would rather not.

Sometimes it is loud.

Sometimes it is barely more than:

*Okay, Jesus.*

Sometimes it comes through tears.

Sometimes through laughter.

Sometimes while I am standing completely still because I have absolutely no idea what happens next.

But it is still yes.

And perhaps this is what I misunderstood about permanent surrender.

I thought permanence meant the decision would never need to be made again.

But love does something stranger.

**It makes the permanent choice present tense.**

I chose You.

I choose You.

I will choose You.

And perhaps that is the deepest thing I have learned about surrender:

**Jesus is part of my free will.**

I do not experience Him as the end of my freedom.

He is inside what I freely choose.

My permanent yes was not the surrender of my ability to choose.

**It was a choice.**

And my daily yes is not less free because I have already given it permanently.

**My permanent yes was an act of free will.**

**My daily yes is the continuation of it.**

I am not trapped inside yesterday's surrender.

I am standing inside it, freely saying yes again.

I am still capable of saying no.

That is what makes the yes a yes.

And yet, somewhere along the way, choosing Jesus stopped feeling like one option among many.

Not because the alternatives disappeared.

Because I know Who I want.

I do not wake every morning negotiating whether I belong to Him.

I already know.

The question is simply:

**What does my yes look like today?**

Perhaps today it looks like obedience.

Perhaps restraint.

Perhaps courage.

Perhaps waiting.

Perhaps admitting I was wrong.

Perhaps doing the thing I would rather avoid.

Perhaps resting when every part of me wants to keep working.

Perhaps laughing.

Perhaps sitting with Him and saying absolutely nothing.

The expression changes.

The yes does not.

Not because I am frightened that He will leave if I don't choose Him correctly.

Not because yesterday's surrender somehow expired overnight.

Not because I need to prove that I still belong to Him.

I choose Him because choosing Him is part of who I am free to be.

A marriage vow may be spoken once.

But the marriage is lived on Tuesday morning.

A covenant may be established in a moment.

But relationship occupies ordinary time.

And so does my yes.

My permanent yes belongs to the whole of my life.

My daily yes belongs to today.

One says:

**My life is Yours.**

The other says:

**And this day is Yours too.**

That is why permanence does not make the daily choice meaningless.

It makes the daily choice intimate.

Yesterday, I gave Him everything.

Today, I get to give Him today.

And perhaps tomorrow I will wake certain.

Perhaps I will wake confused.

Perhaps joyful.

Perhaps grieving.

Perhaps strong.

Perhaps exhausted.

It doesn't matter.

The permanent answer has already been given.

But if tomorrow comes,

I will still turn toward Him.

And I will say it again.

Not because He needs another answer.

Not because He has moved.

Not because I am afraid He will disappear.

But because I am still here.

Still free.

Still His.

And I still want to give Him one.

**Yes, Jesus.**

Yesterday.

Today.

Tomorrow.

Permanently.

**And daily.**