Jonny Diaz - Breathe Lyrics

Video

Jonny Diaz - "Breathe" (Official Lyric Video)

Meaning & Inspiration

My hands have grown spotted and stiff over the years, the kind of skin that shows every winter I’ve weathered. I sat by the window this morning, listening to Jonny Diaz sing about the alarm clock and the ninety-miles-an-hour pace of life, and I couldn’t help but smile. It’s easy for the young to feel like they’re racing against the sun, convinced that if they stop for a second, the whole world might just quit turning.

There is a line that struck me, sitting there in the quiet of my living room: "I wonder if there’s something more to this crazy life."

I remember asking that same question when my children were small and the bills were piled high on the kitchen table. You think the "more" is found in finishing the list, in checking off the tasks, in winning the race. But the older I get, the more I realize that the "more" is often found in the surrender of the race itself.

The Gospel of Luke tells us about Mary sitting at the feet of the Lord while Martha was distracted by all the preparations. I spent so much of my middle age being Martha, convinced that my service was my primary offering. But Diaz sings, "Come and rest at my feet / And be, just be."

It’s a hard thing to learn—to just be. When you’re young, your worth is tied to your output. When you’re my age, and your output has slowed to a crawl, you have to find out if your worth is tied to Him alone, or if it was just a phantom you chased while you were busy.

"The peace of God that overcomes," he sings. That’s a heavy promise. When the house is quiet and the joints ache and the memory of the "busy, busy, busy" days starts to blur, I find that peace isn't some loud, rushing wind. It’s the stillness. It’s the realization that while I was busy trying to build a kingdom, He was the one holding up the world.

Does this offer comfort when the lights go out? Yes, I suppose it does. It reminds me that I don’t have to carry the weight of the day anymore. I’ve spent forty years filling my lungs with anxiety, trying to prove I was enough. It’s a relief to finally admit I’m not, and that the only thing required is to sit down, let the shoulders drop, and listen. It’s a simple reminder, maybe too simple for the ones still running, but for those of us who have finally run out of breath, it feels a lot like coming home.

Sometimes, I think we complicate the faith until it’s as frantic as the life we’re living. Diaz pulls it back to the beginning—the breath, the feet, the rest. It’s not about how much we do. It’s about who we belong to when we finally stop doing. I’m still learning that. Even after all this time, the urge to get up and rush is still there, rattling in my bones, but then I remember the words, and I settle back into the chair. Just breathe. That’s enough for today.