WorshipMob - To Worship You I Live Lyrics

Video

To Worship You I Live (by Israel & New Breed) | WorshipMob live + spontaneous

Meaning & Inspiration

There is a distinct weight that settles in the room when a congregation starts singing about "choosing" God. WorshipMob hits that note here, and it forces a quiet, uncomfortable question: is this choice a reaction to a feeling, or is it a steady, anchored reality?

"If I had my choice I would choose You every time."

When we lead this, it’s easy to get lost in the repetition. From a structural standpoint, this is a dangerous line. It sounds like a vow, but vows are expensive. In the middle of a Tuesday, when the checkbook is thin or the marriage is rocky, that "choice" feels less like a song lyric and more like a cliff. Yet, Paul writes in Romans 6 that we are slaves to whatever we obey. We are always choosing. Placing this line at the front of a song is a liturgical recalibration; it forces the singer to acknowledge that they are currently serving something, and they are declaring—at least for these few minutes—that the hunger for God outpaces the hunger for comfort.

But here is where the path to the Cross gets a bit tangled. The phrase "To worship You I live" is repeated until it becomes a chant. It’s simple, yes. It’s singable, absolutely. But as a leader, I watch the eyes of the people in the back rows during this part. Are they living to worship, or are they just singing to escape? If our worship is a byproduct of our circumstances, the repetition of "I live" starts to ring hollow the moment the music fades. True worship isn't a state of perpetual singing; it’s the bending of the will.

I find myself lingering on that line: "It’s what I was meant for."

There is a restlessness in human nature—that "God-shaped vacuum" Pascal talked about. We try to fill it with work, with achievement, with the noise of the digital age. By the time this song hits its peak, the congregation is left holding the reality that they were created for an audience of One. That is the "Landing." It isn't a warm, fuzzy feeling. It is the sobering, somewhat daunting realization that our existence has a specific, singular direction.

I wonder, though, if we sing it too easily. We treat the act of living for God like it’s a hobby rather than a death. If we truly lived to worship, would our lives look so different from our neighbors'? The song doesn't answer that. It leaves the listener standing in the middle of the room, breath spent, melody fading, holding the heavy weight of that "meant for." It’s an unfinished thought, which is perhaps the most honest place to leave a room of believers. We aren't done choosing; we are just beginning.