Chris Quilala - I Exalt Thee Lyrics

Video

I Exalt Thee -Chris Quilala / Jesus Culture - Jesus Culture Music

Meaning & Inspiration

My hands still shake sometimes. Not from nerves, but from the memory of how far out I went. When I hear Chris Quilala singing “We have come so far / To lift Your name,” it doesn’t sound like a tidy Sunday morning chorus to me. It sounds like a gasp for air after a long sprint through the dark.

"We have come so far." Yeah. That hits a nerve that’s still raw.

I spent years trying to make my own name big, trying to fill the hollow ache in my chest with things that burned out and left me cold. I’ve tasted the husks. I’ve known the silence of a life where God wasn’t invited. So, when the music swells and they start singing about exalting Him, I’m not standing there with my hands tucked in my pockets. I’m thinking about the road back. It wasn't a straight line. It was stumbling through the mud, half-convinced I wouldn't be let through the front door, let alone given a seat at the table.

There’s this line—“Thou art exalted far above all gods.” It’s easy to say that when you’re comfortable, but it carries a different weight when you’ve actually bowed down to the "other gods" and found out they’re just hollow wood and stone. I’ve tried to replace Him with money, with noise, with people who didn't know my middle name, let alone my soul. None of them could hold the weight of my life.

It reminds me of the Israelites in the desert. They were always looking for something shiny to worship because the real God felt too quiet or too demanding. I was the same way. But there’s a relief in admitting that He is high above all that wreckage. Like Psalm 97:9 says, "For you, O Lord, are most high over all the earth; you are exalted far above all gods." It’s a fact, but it’s a terrifying, beautiful fact. It means I don't have to be the center of the universe anymore. Thank God for that. My ego was a miserable god.

I listen to Quilala and the band, and it feels like they’re trying to pack all the messy, broken history of a crowd into a single moment of focus. "It's all about You." That’s the only thing that makes sense anymore. After the fire, after the mess, after you’ve realized that everything you built with your own two hands turned to ash, you’re left with just Him.

I’m still scrubbing the soot off my skin. I’m still learning how to exist in a space that isn't chaos. But I know this: I’ve come far enough to know that the only name worth lifting is the one that reached into the mud to pull me out. It’s not elegant. It’s not a polished performance. It’s just survival. And I suppose, for someone like me, that’s all worship ever really is—a way to say, "I’m still here, and I’m finally looking in the right direction."