Chris Tomlin - How Great is Our God Lyrics

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How Great Is Our God - Lyric Video HD

Meaning & Inspiration

There is a particular gravity to how Chris Tomlin plants the phrase "He wraps himself in Light" right at the start of this record. It’s an interesting move. In the mid-2000s, when this song first gained traction, we were moving away from the more wordy, stanza-heavy hymns and sliding into the era of the "global anthem."

This song isn’t built for a quiet morning devotion; it’s built for the cavernous echo of a sanctuary. The language is lifted straight from the Psalter—specifically Psalm 104:2, where the psalmist writes that God covers Himself with light as with a garment. By using that imagery, Tomlin bypasses the need for complex theology and goes straight for the gut. He’s essentially saying, "Picture something so bright it blinds you." It’s a sensory shortcut. In our current climate, where people are starved for something that feels bigger than the blinking cursors and glowing rectangles we stare at all day, that image of God—who actually is the light—serves as a heavy anchor.

But then there’s the tension. The lyric continues: "and darkness tries to hide / And trembles at His voice." There is a bit of a colonial-era hymn-writing habit here, a sort of imperial confidence in God’s supremacy. When you hear it in a crowded room, it feels triumphant. But when you’re sitting in your car on a Tuesday, grappling with the specific, messy darkness of a personal failure, that line hits differently. Does darkness actually tremble? Or does it just wait? The song doesn't leave room for the waiting. It forces a declarative, communal victory.

The most interesting shift occurs in the bridge: "The Godhead Three in One / Father Spirit Son / The Lion and the Lamb." This is classic CCM minimalism at its peak. Tomlin takes the most complex, paradoxical mystery of the faith—the Trinity, the duality of Christ—and strips it down to a rhythmic chant. It’s almost pedagogical. You can hear the influence of simple congregational singing here; it’s designed so that if you’ve never heard the song before, you’re singing along by the second chorus.

Yet, I wonder if the "vibe" sometimes flattens the weight of those words. When you chant "Lion and the Lamb," you’re talking about the violent judge and the slaughtered sacrifice in the same breath. It’s a terrifying juxtaposition if you actually stop to hold it in your mind. But in the middle of a massive, upbeat production, that terror is often smoothed over by the sheer momentum of the melody. We’re so busy singing about His greatness that we sometimes miss the fact that we’re singing about a God who is both entirely approachable and utterly dangerous.

Does the message get lost in the anthem? Sometimes. But there’s a persistent, stubborn truth in the simplicity. "Age to age He stands / And time is in His hands." It’s a classic, straightforward confession that ignores the modern obsession with constant innovation. In a culture that demands we reinvent our identity every six months, there is something actually radical about singing that God—and only God—is the one constant. It’s not a complicated sentiment, but it feels like it’s barely holding onto the center of my own frantic life. Whether the music captures the full, terrifying scope of the Creator is up for debate, but it certainly captures the desperate human need to believe that He’s still holding the clock.