Jeff and Sheri Easter - Someone's Listening Lyrics
Lyrics
Drivin' down the road, talking out loud
tryin to make sense,
wrestling with the doubts
of another day
Just tryin' to find my way
How can a person feel so alone
Drivin 65 down a crowded road
People everywhere, is anybody out there
and on the back door of a diesel
Someone wrote trust Jesus
In the dirt and the grime
It hit me like a light
A message written just for me
Someone's listening
Someone hears me
Someone knows me better than I know myself
Knows I need a little help
Like a voice sent
Through the static
I hear you loud and clear
Have no fear
Someone's listening
When just the right song comes on the radio
When just the right friend calls to say hello
With just the right words
You need to hear
Or in the nick of time a check comes in the mail
Exactly what you need but you tell yourself
Oh it must have been coincidence
yeah I've had those moments
When a closed door just opened
And out of thin air
An answer to a prayer
Man you just got to believe
Someone's listening
Someone hears me
Someone knows me better than I know myself
Knows I need a little help
Like a voice sent
Through the static
I hear you loud and clear
Have no fear
Someone's listening
When there are no words
You say what's the use
If you don't think you're getting through
Someone's listening
Someone hears you
Someone knows you better than you know yourself
Knows you need a little help
Like a voice sent
Through the static
I hear you loud and clear
Have no fear
Someone's listening
Someone's listening
Video
Someone's Listening
Meaning & Inspiration
I’ve spent a lot of years sitting in the pews, watching the seasons change outside the church windows, and if there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that faith is rarely the grand, booming event we hope it will be. It’s usually much quieter. It’s in the grit.
There’s a line in this song that hit me harder than any sermon I’ve heard in a decade: "On the back door of a diesel, someone wrote 'trust Jesus' in the dirt and the grime."
I think about that image when I’m feeling particularly low—maybe when the bank account is tight or the doctors are using words that don't sound hopeful. We want our signs from God to be written in gold leaf, or spoken by an angel, or revealed in some earth-shattering moment of clarity. But life isn't like that. Most of our lives are lived in the "dirt and the grime." And yet, that’s exactly where He chooses to write His messages. It’s almost startling to realize that the Creator of the universe would use a dusty truck trailer to remind me to breathe, to trust, to just keep driving.
It reminds me of Elijah in 1 Kings 19. He was looking for God in the fire, the earthquake, and the wind, but he couldn't find Him there. He found Him in the "still, small voice"—that whisper that cuts through the noise of our own frantic, tired minds.
The song talks about those "coincidences"—the check in the mail, the friend calling right when the walls are closing in. I’ve spent my life trying to categorize those moments. Am I just reaching for meaning, or is it actually Him? I’ve learned to stop worrying about the difference. When you are truly desperate, you don’t need a theological treatise; you need to know you aren’t shouting into a void. Psalm 34:18 says, "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted." It doesn't say He fixes the heart immediately. It says He is close.
That’s the part that still leaves me with questions, though. If He’s listening, and He knows me better than I know myself—which is a terrifying thought, considering how much of myself I try to keep hidden—then why does the silence have to last so long sometimes? Why is there so much static before the voice comes through?
I don’t have an answer for that. Maybe we aren’t supposed to. Maybe the "static" is just part of the experience of being human. I’ve found that the older I get, the less I care about having all the answers and the more I care about the simple, stubborn conviction that I am being heard. Even when I’m driving sixty-five miles an hour on a road full of strangers, feeling entirely alone, there’s a comfort in knowing the dirt and the grime are just another canvas for His grace. He’s there, even when I’m too tired to look for the writing.