[Verse 1] I learned to call the warning in me wicked, learned the safest answer sounded “yes,” every time my stomach whispered, don’t trust this, I confessed the instinct as a test. They said the flesh was always interfering, that the heart could counterfeit the truth, so I got holy good at disappearing from the body trying to carry me through. [Pre-Chorus] I laid my better judgment on the altar, watched it burn and called the burning grace. Every time I felt myself grow smaller, I believed that God was taking up the space. [Chorus] I surrender, I surrender— that was what the faithful learned to do. Every boundary, every question, every part of me that somehow knew. I surrender, I surrender— till there wasn’t much of me to give. They called it conviction every time I abandoned myself to prove that I believed. [Verse 2] I learned that anger meant I lacked forgiveness, that discomfort meant I needed prayer, that saying no was evidence of selfishness, while suffering meant something holy lived there. I learned to doubt the evidence of bruising if the hand that caused it bowed its head; what a perfect language for confusing being spiritually alive with nearly dead. [Pre-Chorus] I laid my own perception on the altar, every nerve that begged me to believe. Strange how every voice they called the Father sounded just like someone telling me to leave. [Chorus] I surrender, I surrender— that was what the faithful learned to do. Every boundary, every question, every part of me that somehow knew. I surrender, I surrender— till there wasn’t much of me to give. They called it conviction every time I abandoned myself to prove that I believed. [Bridge] So here is my confession: I was never hard to save. I was taught to call obedience the digging of my grave. And here is my repentance— if repentance means to turn: I am taking back the instincts I was sanctified to burn. If there’s a voice worth following, it won’t require me to disappear. Maybe what they called rebellion was the only voice that led me out of there. [Final Chorus] I won’t surrender, I won’t surrender— hear how different those words sound now. Keep my boundaries, keep my questions, keep the body I was taught to doubt. I won’t surrender, I won’t surrender— I have nothing left I need to prove. They called it conviction every time I abandoned myself. Now I know conviction was the courage not to.
