Paul Baloche - Open The Eyes of My Heart Lord Lyrics

Video

Open The Eyes Of My Heart | Paul Baloche (Official Live Video)

Meaning & Inspiration

I’ve spent years standing behind a mic, watching how a room shifts when a song begins. Most of the time, we’re trying to build a bridge between a tired congregation and the throne of God. It’s hard work, and often, we stumble. Paul Baloche’s arrangement here isn't trying to be clever or complex, which is where its strength—and its peculiar risk—lies.

The lyric "To see Him high and lifted up" is the pivot point. It’s a direct nod to Isaiah 6:1, where the prophet is undone by a vision of God’s holiness. In the context of a Sunday morning, this is a dangerous request. If we’re actually asking to see the King, we’re asking for our own agendas to be shattered. But I wonder, as we repeat those lines, are we just singing about a feeling of awe, or are we actually bracing ourselves for the light? There is a difference between wanting to feel moved and wanting to be changed.

What I appreciate about this structure is how it leans into the "Holy, holy, holy" refrain. It mirrors the eternal song of the seraphim in Revelation 4. It’s repetitive, almost to a fault, but that’s the point. The repetition acts as a stripping away. We start with the narrative of the Incarnation—the child born, the son given—and we move into the static, eternal nature of the Creator. It’s a transition from history to mystery.

When the music finally dies down, what are we left holding?

Sometimes, I worry that we leave people with nothing more than a residual sense of "peace." But this song aims for something sharper. By rooting the chorus in the holiness of the Messiah, Baloche isn't inviting the congregation to focus on their own breakthrough or their current state of mind. He’s pointing to an objective reality: God is Other. God is pure. God is blindingly bright.

Yet, here is where I find a bit of tension. If we sing this, we’re inviting the gaze of God into our own messy lives. We’re asking to see Him, which inevitably means He sees us. It’s a bit terrifying when you stop and actually listen to the words. Are we ready to be seen, or are we just using the song as a way to hide behind a beautiful melody?

I’ve led this enough to know that some weeks, the room hits that wall—that point where the song stops being a performance and starts being an admission of our own smallness. We aren't the stars of the story; we are just the witnesses. That’s a hard truth to keep in your pocket as you walk out to the parking lot. I’m not sure we always resolve that tension, but perhaps we aren’t supposed to. Maybe we’re just meant to leave the building carrying the weight of that "Holy, holy, holy," letting it haunt us until the next time we gather.