Planetshakers - This is Our Time Lyrics
Lyrics
Here and now making loud at the top of our lungs.
There's a sound breaking out Lord for all that you've done.
And now, we're turning our turning our hearts to You.
And no, we'll never stop never stop loving You.
This will be the best time of our life as we encounter Your love again.
Here with You our hearts will come alive as we declare Your praises.
Oh, woah, oh, oh. Oh, woah, oh, oh as we declare your praises.
From the start here we are to collide with Your love.
Every heart set apart just to be where You are.
And now, we're turning our turning our hearts to You.
And no, we'll never stop never stop loving You.
This will be the best time of our life as we encounter Your love again.
Here with You our hearts will come alive as we declare Your praises.
Oh, woah, oh, oh. Oh, woah, oh, oh as we declare your praises.
This is our time, this is our place, this is our moment to lift Your name.
This will be the best time of our life as we encounter Your love again.
Here with You our hearts will come alive as we declare Your praises.
Oh, woah, oh, oh. Oh, woah, oh, oh as we declare your praises.
Video
THIS IS OUR TIME | Official Planetshakers Video
Meaning & Inspiration
There is a distinct friction in songs like this one from Planetshakers. When I look at a lyric sheet, I’m not asking if it’s catchy; I’m asking if it provides enough structural weight for a room full of tired, distracted people to actually lean their souls against.
The phrase "we're turning our hearts to You" is the pivot point here. It’s a simple, rhythmic gesture, but it’s heavy. If we are honest, our hearts are rarely stationary. They are usually scattered across our bank accounts, our anxieties, or the unresolved arguments we had on the way to the building. Asking a congregation to "turn" is a liturgical act—it acknowledges that we have been facing the wrong way.
Yet, I find myself lingering on the line, "This will be the best time of our life as we encounter Your love again."
There’s a tension there. It’s an optimistic claim, perhaps even a bit frantic. We often try to manufacture "the best time" through volume or a driving tempo. But encounter—the kind that shifts a person’s trajectory—rarely arrives on a schedule, and it certainly isn't guaranteed by the energy of the room. When we sing this, are we expecting God to meet us, or are we hoping the collective adrenaline will simulate an encounter?
Scripture gives us a different rhythm. In Psalm 27, David doesn't talk about the "best time of his life" as a fleeting moment of peak intensity. He says, "One thing I have asked of the Lord, that I will seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life." That is a slow, steady, daily sort of dwelling. It’s less about a sudden collision and more about the quiet, persistent work of staying put.
When the music stops and the "woahs" fade, what are we left holding?
If the song stops at the emotional high of the chorus, we haven't actually landed anywhere; we’ve just been suspended in a moment of hype. For a song to really work, it needs to leave the people with a truth that survives the drive home. If we aren't careful, "declaring praises" becomes just another activity we do to keep the service moving. But if we can actually "turn our hearts"—even for a few minutes—that’s a start.
I’m still not entirely sure that a song built on the promise of "the best time of our life" is the right architecture for a congregation that is often walking through the worst. Real worship shouldn't ignore the noise, but it shouldn't just try to shout over it, either. I want the melody to lead us to the foot of the Cross, not just to a peak of excitement. We need less collision and more surrender.