Hillsong Worship - En Esto Creo (El Credo) Lyrics
Lyrics
Mi Dios y Padre eterno Autor de la creación Poderoso Tu Espíritu intervino El verbo se encarnó Cristo tú salvas
Creo en nuestro Dios el Padre Y en su hijo Cristo el Rey Creo en el Espíritu Santo Dios tres en uno es Creo que resucitaste Que nos levantarás Creo en el nombre de Jesucristo
Mi juez y mi abogado Sufriste en la cruz Me has perdonado Bajaste a las tinieblas Y en gloria y poder Te levantaste
Creo en nuestro Dios el Padre Y en su hijo Cristo el Rey Creo en el Espíritu Santo Dios tres en uno es Creo que resucitaste Que nos levantarás Creo en el nombre de Jesucristo
Creo en ti Jesús Creo que tú vivo estás Creo que Jesús es el Señor
Creo en ti Jesús Creo que tú vivo estás Creo que Jesús es el Señor
Creo en la vida eterna Creo en la comunión Creo que tu pueblo es uno Creo en tu Iglesia Dios Creo que resucitaremos Y en gloria volverás Creo en el nombre de Jesucristo
Creo en nuestro Dios el Padre Y en su hijo Cristo el Rey Creo en el Espíritu Santo Dios tres en uno es Creo que resucitaste Que nos levantarás Creo en el nombre de Jesucristo
Creo en nuestro Dios el Padre Y en su hijo Cristo el Rey Creo en el Espíritu Santo Dios tres en uno es Creo que resucitaste Que nos levantarás Creo en el nombre de Jesucristo Creo en el nombre de Jesucristo
Video
En Esto Creo (El Credo) - Hillsong Worship
Meaning & Inspiration
They call this "Creo" by Hillsong, and usually, I’d turn the station. Most of the stuff coming out of these big studios sounds like it’s been scrubbed clean with bleach, stripped of the grit that actually clings to a man who’s spent too many years in the dirt. But these lines caught me off guard: “Mi juez y mi abogado / Sufriste en la cruz / Me has perdonado.”
There’s a tension there that keeps me awake at night. I know the Judge. I’ve seen Him in the mirror after a long bender, after I’ve burned every bridge I ever built. I know what I’m worth in the cold light of day. When you’ve been living in the pig pen, the idea of a Judge is terrifying. You expect the gavel. You expect the final word on your failures.
But then there’s this “Abogado”—the Advocate. It feels scandalous. I’m standing there, clothes smelling like ash and cheap whiskey, and He’s not just representing me; He’s taking the hit. He’s stepping between me and the bench. It’s like 1 John 2:1, but stripped of the Sunday school coloring book version. It’s the difference between hearing about a Savior and realizing you’re the one who dragged Him into the mud to pull you out.
I don’t know why He does it. I really don’t.
The song says, “Bajaste a las tinieblas.” He went down into the darkness. That part kills me. People talk about the resurrection like it’s some golden-hour victory lap, but to get there, He had to walk through the same filth I did. He went to the place where I thought I was alone, the place where I stopped praying because I figured God wouldn't look at me anymore. He didn't just stay in the high heavens; He got His hands dirty in my shadow.
It doesn’t feel like I’ve got it all figured out, even after listening to this. I still look back at the fire I started in my own life and wonder how the hell I made it out alive. Some days, the confession “Creo” feels like a massive, heavy stone I’m trying to lift with broken arms. Other days, it’s just the only thing keeping me upright.
I don't need a theology lecture on the Trinity right now. I just need to know that the One who walked through the dark actually made it back out, and that He left the door open behind Him. I’m still wiping the soot off my skin, still stumbling, but maybe the fact that I can even say the name is the biggest miracle of the lot. I don't know where this leads, but I guess I'm staying for the next chorus.