Kutless + Travis Greene - Impossible Lyrics

Video

Kutless - What Faith Can Do (Official Music Video)

Meaning & Inspiration

My hands have grown thick with callouses over the years, and the skin on the back of them has turned thin like parchment. When I sit in the quiet, especially when the house goes cold at night and the aches in my knees remind me I’m not as spry as I once was, I find myself weighing words. Not just the ones I read in my old, tattered hymnal, but the ones drifting through the airwaves today.

Kutless and Travis Greene sing, “My God can do anything He wants.”

That’s a big claim. It’s the sort of thing you holler at the top of your lungs when you’re young, when the world feels like a map waiting for you to draw the borders. But when you’ve buried friends, watched dreams wither on the vine, and stood in the doorway of a hospital room waiting for a door to open that never did, that sentence takes on a different weight.

Is it true? Of course, He is sovereign. But if He can do anything, why the quiet? Why the delay?

Sometimes, I think we use these words to fill the silence where we’re really asking, "Why didn't you do what I wanted?" It’s a comfort, sure, but it’s a jagged one. It demands something of me. It asks me to trust that what He wants is inherently better than what I’m begging for. That’s a hard pill to swallow when your throat is dry. I look at Genesis, the first chapter, where He called light out of the void. He didn’t ask for my input then, and He certainly isn’t asking for it now as He sorts through the wreckage of my own life.

There’s another line that stopped me: “When seasons change, He’s in control.”

I’ve seen plenty of seasons change. I’ve seen the green of spring turn to the biting frost of a winter that felt like it would never end. People often talk about control like it’s a security blanket, something to keep the shivering away. But control is actually a terrifying thing to surrender to a God who doesn’t operate on my clock.

Romans 11:33 comes to mind, about how His ways are past finding out. It’s not meant to be a riddle; it’s meant to be a wall to lean against. When I’m tired—really tired, down to the marrow—I don’t need a song that tells me everything will be easy. I need a song that reminds me that the One holding the reins isn't startled by the dark.

I’m still sitting here, listening. Some days, it feels like young man's noise. Other days, when the light hits the stained glass just right and I can finally unclench my fists, I hear the truth underneath the music. He does the impossible, but mostly, He does it in ways that don't look anything like what I’d have chosen for myself. And maybe, in the end, that’s exactly why it’s worth singing.