Yield

"I freely and heartily yield all things to thy pleasure and disposal."

Yield is a weird word. It sounds funny. And it doesn't always mean what we think it means. The original meaning had to do with producing, agriculture. What is the yield of that crop? How much did we get out of the field this year? Somehow, the word also took on a political meaning. In a parliamentary setting, it would mean giving up, surrendering, allowing someone else to speak. Once that leap was made, the word also came into usage (at least in North America) on the highways. We give up our right-of-way to allow another vehicle to pass or to go first. And since we don't do that willingly, there are certain intersections where signs are posted instructing us to "yield." Now, watch people's faces at a yield sign. If there is no one coming, people zoom right on through the sign, and if there is someone else coming, someone to whom they must yield, there is generally frustration, even anger, at having to wait on someone else.

So what a strange prayer to pray. After all these other things, after all these options we give to God, now we're asked to yield everything else, including anything we might not have mentioned up till now, over to him. We yield our rights. We give our demand to speak, to be in control, to come out as the winner.

And we should do it willingly—or, as the prayer says, freely and heartily. I love the last word—"heartily." With gusto, vigor, energy. We not only say, "Okay, I guess I'll yield to God," we do it with as much passion as we would do our favorite thing. "YES! I YIELD!" Freely and heartily. As if nothing else matters. Because nothing else does.

This is Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane during his last night on earth. We know so little of what he prayed because, well, the only witnesses fell asleep. But they did stay awake long enough to overhear a bit of what he prayed: "Father, if it is possible, take this cup from me. Yet, not what I will, but what you will" (Luke 22:42). (How could you fall asleep when hearing a prayer like that?)

I've been to Gethsemane several times, and I can tell you that there is a sense in that holy place of yieldedness. There is a sense that pervades that place of the call to do God's will. Freely and heartily. Gethsemane became the place where Jesus took the first real step toward the cross, where he gave his human will over to his heavenly Father once again, where our sins were really first forgiven. Gethsemane, you may know, means oil press. It's the place where the olives are crushed so that something new can be made: oil. For Jesus, and for us, Gethsemane is the place where we are crushed so that something new can be made: a disciple, a follower of Jesus. It's the moment in our lives when we freely and heartily...

Yield.

We let him go first. We stop and allow Jesus the right-of-way in our lives.

Not my will, but thine.

Not my desires, but thine.

No longer my own, but thine.

Will we yield?

Church of All Nations, Gethsemane