Marvin Winans - You Just Don't Want to Know Lyrics
Lyrics
I hurt so many nights. Cried so many hours. Trying to make it right. Just didn't have the power. You ignored all of my tears. In hopes they'd disappear. I tried to let it show.
But I guess...you just don't wanna know
I came to you in love. I came to you in earnest. Could you possibly explain? Why the flames, why the furnace? Just needing to get it clear. I was hoping you would hear. I tried to let it go.
But I guess...you just don't wanna know.
Now it's true that God is always there, He said He'd never leave. But at times the human touch is what I need. And if I had a dime for every time I tried to call your name. Some tell me, I'd be wealthy.
But I learned that I could cope. I discovered I could make it. In nights so long and cold. So cold, you don't know how cold. I learned that I could take it. Now I wouldn't change a thing. Not for the knowledge, not for the knowledge that I've gained.
I learned that I could grow. I really did, I tried to let it show. I did. I tried to let it go.
But I guess...you just don't wanna know.
Video
Pastor Marvin L. Winans "Im Over it Now / You Just Don't Wanna Know" (by Richard Arsenault)
Meaning & Inspiration
Marvin Winans’ powerful single, "You Just Don't Want to Know," released on January 1, 2007, as part of the *Alone But Not Alone - Single* album, delves into the raw, often unspoken agony of deep emotional hurt met with cold indifference. This is not merely a song but a profound confession of pain, a plea for understanding that goes unheeded, and ultimately, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit when anchored in divine truth. It captures the desolate feeling of pouring out one's heart only to discover the recipient has no desire to engage with the struggle, articulating a universal human experience of seeking solace and explanation from another, only to be met with a painful lack of empathy.
The opening verses immediately plunge us into a landscape of profound suffering, where "so many nights" are spent in agony and "so many hours" are consumed by tears, all in a futile effort to "make it right." The individual’s vulnerability is laid bare, expressing a desperate need for reconciliation and understanding, yet the attempts are brushed aside, their tears ignored "in hopes they'd disappear." This resonates deeply with the psalmist's cries, reminding us that even in our most hidden anguish, God sees every tear. Psalm 56:8 assures us that God collects our tears in a bottle, and Psalm 34:18 reminds us that "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit," acknowledging the depth of pain that others might choose to overlook.
The narrative continues with an earnest approach, coming "in love" and "in earnest," seeking an explanation for the "flames" and "furnace" of life's trials. This imagery powerfully conveys suffering and hardship, mirroring the biblical concept of refinement through fire. Yet, the desire "to get it clear" and the hope that "you would hear" are again met with the same unresponsiveness. The profound longing for human accountability and connection in the midst of adversity often goes unanswered by those we expect to lean on. However, Scripture consistently teaches that such fiery trials, though painful, are not without purpose. 1 Peter 4:12 advises us not to be surprised by the "fiery trial that is to test you," and James 1:2-4 promises that enduring trials produces steadfastness, leading to maturity and completeness in faith.
A particularly poignant moment arrives when the song acknowledges the unwavering presence of God while simultaneously expressing a very human need for tangible connection: "Now it's true that God is always there, He said He'd never leave. But at times the human touch is what I need." This isn't a contradiction of faith but a candid admission of our created need for community and empathy from fellow humans. While Hebrews 13:5 reassures us, "I will never leave you nor forsake you," our journey through life is also meant to be shared. Galatians 6:2 calls us to "bear one another's burdens," and Romans 12:15 encourages us to "weep with those who weep." The frustration of repeated, unanswered calls for help, suggesting one "would be wealthy" if paid for every attempt, underscores the immense burden carried when human support is absent.
The true turning point, and the most inspiring aspect of this profound piece, emerges from this crucible of neglect. Despite the "nights so long and cold," the individual finds an unexpected strength: "I learned that I could cope. I discovered I could make it. I learned that I could take it." This transformative realization is a powerful declaration of God's sustaining grace. Through the very pain that others refused to acknowledge, immense personal growth is achieved. The statement, "Now I wouldn't change a thing. Not for the knowledge that I've gained," speaks to a profound spiritual wisdom, echoing Romans 8:28, which assures us that "in all things God works for the good of those who love him." This journey through isolation and pain leads to a deeper understanding of self, resilience, and dependence on a higher power.
Ultimately, "You Just Don't Want to Know" culminates in a powerful declaration of self-discovery and spiritual maturation. "I learned that I could grow. I really did, I tried to let it show. I did. I tried to let it go." The repeated phrase, now uttered with a sense of acceptance rather than desperate longing, signifies a breakthrough. The individual has moved past the need for the other's acknowledgment, finding validation and strength within and through their faith. This song is a beacon of hope for anyone who has felt unseen, unheard, or abandoned, reminding us that even when human empathy fails, our experiences can forge an unbreakable spirit and a profound connection to the God who truly knows every detail of our hearts and journeys, transforming pain into an invaluable wellspring of wisdom and enduring strength.