Thou Art Mine
“O Glorious and blessed God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, thou art mine and I am thine”. – expert from the Wesley Covenant Prayer
I have a confession. I love the ocean. As a Kansas girl born and raised, and currently residing in a landlocked state, this doesn’t bode well for me seeing the ocean regularly. But any chance I get, I’m back on the beach, and over New Year’s, I had the privilege of spending a much-needed vacation with my husband and two teenagers in sunshine and sand. It provided much laughter, contemplation, connection, and maybe too much battered seafood. And as we embarked on another new year, I found myself lost in thought, staring at an ocean so vast yet still so accessible that I could jump in and feel it as close as my own skin. And I keep thinking, isn’t God this way?
I see this intimate vastness acknowledged in part through the Wesley Covenant Prayer. In Confirmation class, our middle and high school students have been studying the Wesley Covenant Prayer. Towards the end, John Wesley declares—“O Glorious and blessed God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, thou art mine and I am thine.” By naming the trinity, this statement holds together what we often struggle to keep in the same breath: God’s vast mystery and God’s intimate nearness.
In naming Father (Creator), Son, and Holy Spirit, Wesley anchors faith in the Trinity, not as a theological puzzle to be solved, but as a living relationship to be entered. The Trinity reminds us that God is not solitary or distant, but eternally relational—love shared, given, and received within God’s own being. This means that love is not something God does occasionally; love is who God is. When we are drawn into that divine life, we are drawn into love itself.
I must admit, for me, the line “thou art mine” can feel almost too bold. How can the infinite God belong to us? Yet this is the grace of the gospel: in Christ, God chooses closeness. The Son makes our Creator known, stepping into our humanity, our suffering, our ordinary days. God is not content to remain vast and untouchable. God comes near, takes on flesh, and says, you are worth coming for. That truth knocks me over like an ocean wave, tumbling under the cool water, refreshing, exhilarating, and a little bit out of my comfort zone.
And still, Wesley balances that daring claim with humility: “and I am thine.” This is surrender. We do not possess God; we belong to God. The Holy Spirit moves within us, shaping our hearts, drawing us toward holiness, and reminding us that our lives are held within something far greater than ourselves. The Spirit keeps the mystery alive—God within us, yet never contained by us.
Together, this prayer holds the paradox at the heart of Christian faith:
God is vast beyond comprehension, Creator of all that is.
God is mysterious, more than our language or doctrine can fully express.
And God is astonishingly close, bound to us in love.
Wesley’s words invite us not to explain the Trinity, but to trust it—to live in the wonder that the God who is beyond us has chosen to be with us and for us. In that sacred mystery, we find both deep belonging and holy awe: we are God’s, and by grace, God is ours.
As I pondered the ocean, I realized I’d been sitting on the sandy beach for far too long. I mustered all my courage, dug into the sand, and ran full force into a vast and inviting ocean, beckoning me to be courageous, vulnerable, and grateful. And so it goes, I dive into God’s love one wave at a time, Thou art mine, WOOSH, and I am thine, WOOSH!
Prayer:
Creator, Son, and Holy Spirit love you. I want to honor you with my attitude, behaviors, and lifestyle. You are a relational God, and I aim to offer you my love in the way I treat others, Amen.
“I am no longer my own, but thine.
Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt.
Put me to doing, put me to suffering.
Let me be employed by thee or laid aside for thee,
exalted for thee or brought low for thee.
Let me be full, let me be empty.
Let me have all things, let me have nothing.
I freely and heartily yield all things
to thy pleasure and disposal.
And now, O glorious and blessed God,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
thou art mine, and I am thine. So be it.
And the covenant which I have made on earth,
let it be ratified in heaven. Amen.”
Leah Swank-Miller
serves as Pastor of Care and Director of Student Ministries at Church of the Resurrection in Overland Park. A Kansas native, she has been a professional actress for nearly two decades, living and performing in New York and now residing in Kansas City, where she performs, directs, and coaches youth. She loves encountering the vastness of God’s creation through theatre and the arts and sharing that vision with her community. Leah earned her master’s degree from Saint Paul School of Theology. She, Brian, and their two children love playing tennis, golf, Mario Party, and board games.
Want to Go Deeper?
This reflection is not just about beauty or comfort. It’s about surrender. About belonging. About what it means to say, without flinching, you are not your own and to trust that this is good news.
If you want to keep exploring faith that holds mystery and intimacy together, that takes prayer seriously as a way of shaping how we live, love, and offer ourselves to God and to one another, I write a weekly email that does exactly that.
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Bibliography
Lee, Boyung. “Commentary on Matthew 2:13–15, 19–23.” In What Do You Fear? Sermon Planning Guide, First Sunday after Christmas. San Diego: Sanctified Art, 2024.
