I haven’t thought of this song in years. I’m not even sure I remembered it until tonight. Somewhere between the mess of my search for Yahweh, my leaving the church, and my first humbled profession of the Nicene Creed, I lost this song.
It’s not the only one. I have discarded more choruses than I have blemished paper. Some of it was intentional, to be honest. I became a lover of hymns, a seeker of hymns. Worse than the feeling that many of these modern tunes were empty was the feeling that they left me empty. And let’s not argue this point, friends–I do not for a moment assert that modern worship is substandard to traditional worship. I only assert that in my life for the last decade, modern worship has been mostly empty. Hymns were rich soil that I could dig down into. They were heavy with theology and difficult statements about faith. I needed hymns. I craved hymns.
And in the midst of that craving, I simply lost many choruses. Once in awhile I will recall one and I will sing it wholeheartedly. Usually, it makes me feel good and it reminds me that choruses and modern worship have shaped me in ways I cannot express.
But this song spilled out of me tonight from some distant memory. Was it one of Pastor Drake’s favorite songs? Pastor Wilbert? Pastor Gordy? I can never remember. One of them used to ask me to play it. A lot.
As I played and sang tonight, the words convicted me: Jesus, I love You; I love You.
Sometimes, folks, worship really is that simple. It is right to extol God for who He is, to proclaim His goodness and mercy, to praise His faithfulness and redeeming love for us. But it is also right–it is also appropriate–to sing softly to Him, the simple return: I love You. If His love doesn’t evoke that response in us, I think we’re in trouble.