Moses Bliss - Taking Care (Remix) Lyrics

Video

Moses Bliss - Taking Care [Remix] feat. Mercy Chinwo [Official Video]

Meaning & Inspiration

Moses Bliss and Mercy Chinwo have a knack for getting people moving. The rhythm is infectious, and the chorus is practically engineered to stick in your head for the rest of the week. But standing here, watching the screen flicker with "Latest grace" and "Everything is working out for my good," I find myself hitting a wall.

There is a line in the song where they sing, “You treat me like your only child in the world.”

On a Sunday morning, with the lights low and the speakers thumping, that feels warm. It feels like belonging. But I’m thinking about that line in the context of a funeral. I’m thinking about the guy sitting in his car after his second layoff notice in two years. Does God treat the person being laid off like an "only child"? Does He treat the person grieving in a silent house like that?

If "taking care of me" is defined by open doors, shining, and things working out, what happens when the door stays slammed shut? What happens when the only thing you have to show for your faith is a mounting pile of bills and an empty chair at the dinner table?

The song quotes Psalm 68:19—“You daily load me with benefits.” That’s a beautiful promise. But David wrote that while he was often running for his life, hiding in caves, and dealing with enemies who actually wanted him dead. He wasn't singing from a place of constant "shining." He was singing from the mud.

When we turn the idea of God’s care into a transaction—"I’m shining because You’re taking care of me"—we drift into the territory of Cheap Grace. If the light only shines when the benefits are flowing, what are we actually worshipping? Are we worshipping the Provider, or are we just happy to be on the payroll?

Faith that doesn’t survive the quiet, crushing moments of a life falling apart isn’t really faith; it’s just optimism with a religious soundtrack. I want to believe that Jesus is taking care of me, but I need that care to look a little more like the God who sat in the dirt with Job, not just the one who opens doors.

"Everything is working out for my good." I’ve heard that line a thousand times. I’ve seen it printed on posters. But when you’re in the middle of a mess that doesn’t feel like it’s working out, that phrase starts to taste like ash. Does "taking care of me" mean protecting me from pain, or does it mean holding me while I scream into the dark?

I’ll keep listening to the beat. It’s catchy. But I’m going to keep my arms crossed until I can reconcile this "shining" theology with the reality of a world that is so often dark, indifferent, and broken. If God is really my Father, I suspect His care is far less about keeping me comfortable and far more about staying with me when the comfort disappears. I’m still waiting to see if the lyrics can hold the weight of a Tuesday afternoon when nothing is going right.