Brandon Lake + Tasha Cobbs Leonard - This Is a Move Lyrics

Video

This is a Move - Brandon Lake and Tasha Cobbs Leonard | Moment

Meaning & Inspiration

Brandon Lake and Tasha Cobbs Leonard are leaning hard into the spectacle here. When you’re in a room with thousands of people, lights flashing, and a choir backing you up, it’s easy to sing, "Bodies are still being raised, giants are still being slayed." It feels good. It feels like momentum. But I’m looking for where the rubber meets the road, and honestly, this song feels like it’s built for the high-octane environment of a conference, not the quiet, ugly hours of a Tuesday night when your world is falling apart.

Take the lyric, "Healing is coming in this room." It’s bold, sure. It sounds like a promise. But what happens when you’re praying for healing in a room that’s just you and a stack of medical bills, or you’re sitting by a hospital bed where the monitor is flatlining instead of beeping? In those moments, "healing is coming" feels like Cheap Grace—a glossy bandage over a wound that actually requires grief, silence, and perhaps a lot more questions than the song allows.

Scripture has a habit of being a bit more difficult than this. Job’s friends, for instance, were convinced that if you just held the right position or waited long enough, the "move" would manifest as restoration. They were wrong. Sometimes the move isn't a miracle; sometimes it’s just the presence of God in the absence of the miracle. Romans 8:26 tells us the Spirit helps us in our weakness because we don't know how to pray as we ought. That implies there are times when we are praying for a "move" that isn't coming—at least not in the way we’ve defined it.

The song keeps chanting, "We need a move." It’s an urgent, demanding rhythm. But if I’m honest, that kind of repetition starts to feel like begging for a performance from God. It frames the Creator as someone waiting for our quota of fasting and prayer before He deigns to act. Does He really need us to "shout it out" to be convinced to show up?

I don’t want to be the cynic who misses the point entirely. There is power in the expectation of God, and I know the feeling of being desperate for a shift in the status quo. But when the dust settles, when the "move" doesn't happen on your timeline, you’re left with the actual nature of faith—the kind that isn't about getting what you’re waiting for, but about staying put when you have nothing else to hold onto.

I struggle with the claim, "This is a move." It’s a bold assertion to make while standing on a stage. If you’re the one holding the microphone, it’s easy to declare the atmosphere. But if you’re the one currently being crushed by a "giant" that won't go down, the song feels like it’s describing a reality you’re not allowed to touch. Faith shouldn’t be a club for people who have it all figured out. It should be a place where we can admit we’re waiting, we’re hurting, and sometimes, we’re just plain tired of singing for a breakthrough that feels like it’s a million miles away.