Jim Reeves - It Is No Secret - What God Can Do Lyrics
Lyrics
The chimes of time ring out the news,
another day is through
Someone slipped and fell,
was that someone you?
You may have longed for added strength
your courage to renew
Do not be disheartened, I bring hope for you
It is no secret what God can do,
what he's done for others he'll do for you
With arms wide open, he'll pardon you,
It is no secret what God can do
There is no night for in his light
you'll never walk alone
Always feel at home, wherever you may roam
There is no power can conquer you
While God is on your side
Just take him at his promise,
Don't run away and hide
It is no secret what God can do,
what he's done for others he'll do for you
With arms wide open, he'll pardon you,
It is no secret what God can do
Video
Jim Reeves - It is No Secret (What God Can Do)
Meaning & Inspiration
Jim Reeves had a voice like velvet, smooth enough to make you think everything is alright even when you’re still picking the dirt out from under your fingernails. I’ve heard "It is No Secret" a thousand times, but tonight, sitting here with the static of a cheap radio, those lyrics hit different.
“Someone slipped and fell, was that someone you?”
That’s not a question for the people sitting in the front pew in their Sunday best. That’s for me. I’m the guy who spent years sprinting toward the edge of the cliff just to see how close I could get before gravity took over. When you’ve been living in the mud, you don’t need a sermon; you need to know if the hole you’re in is actually bottomless. Hearing Jim sing that, it feels less like a song and more like a tap on the shoulder when you’re trying to avoid eye contact with anyone who might know your name.
It reminds me of the guy in Luke 15—the one who dragged the stench of the pigpen back to his father’s porch. He had his speech ready, all that rehearsed humility, but the Father didn't wait for the script. He just ran. That’s the part of this song that messes with me: “With arms wide open, he'll pardon you.”
It’s scandalous. It doesn’t make sense on paper. I’ve spent so long thinking that I had to scrub the smoke off my clothes, that I had to earn my way back to the table by being someone else entirely. But pardon isn't something you earn; it’s something you receive when you’ve got nothing left to offer but the mess you made.
There’s a line in there, “Don't run away and hide.” That’s my default setting. When the sun comes up and reveals the wreckage of the night before, running is the only thing that feels natural. We’re taught to hide our shame, to bury it under a veneer of "doing fine." But what if the secret isn't some complex mystery? What if the whole point is just realizing that the door isn't locked from the outside?
I’m still not sure I believe it most days. The guilt has a way of clinging to you, a ghost that refuses to leave the room. But when Reeves sings about the arms wide open, it makes the air feel a little less thin. I don’t know if I’m "fixed." I don’t know if I’m even doing this right. But for a few minutes, the constant urge to bolt just… softens. Maybe that’s the rescue. It’s not that the past disappears, but that there’s finally enough light to stop squinting at the dark.