Phil Wickham - What An Awesome God Lyrics

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Phil Wickham - What An Awesome God (Official Music Video)

Meaning & Inspiration

Phil Wickham’s latest take on this foundational anthem moves away from the gritty, piano-driven minimalism of the original 1988 Rich Mullins composition, pushing it firmly into the expansive, high-gloss realm of modern arena-ready CCM. As a listener, you can feel the shift; this is music engineered for the big room, designed to be belted out by thousands in unison.

There is a specific line that stops me in the middle of the hook: "He came and put death back in its place." It’s a bold, almost physical way to describe the Resurrection. We are used to hearing about the grave being conquered or death being defeated, but "putting it back in its place" suggests an act of divine order—like a parent finally managing a chaotic room or a judge restoring law to a lawless territory. It’s an interesting choice because it frames the death of Jesus not just as a sacrifice, but as a violent restoration of hierarchy. Death, which had been overstepping its bounds since the Garden, is shoved back into the box.

Scripturally, it brings to mind Hebrews 2:14, where the writer explains that Jesus partook in flesh and blood so that "by his death he might break the power of him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil." Wickham’s language feels less like a theological treatise and more like a triumph.

Yet, I wonder if the "vibe" sometimes threatens to flatten the edges of such a heavy reality. When the production swells and the drums hit that perfect, predictable beat, do we still feel the weight of what that "place" actually was for death? The grave was a reality that crushed hope; putting it back in its place implies a struggle, a battle that left scars—which he references later in the lyrics.

Another line that stands out—"The demons have to run / The angels have to praise"—shows how Wickham leans into the binary nature of modern worship music. It’s a neat, satisfying arrangement of the spiritual world: the enemy retreats, the holy chorus rises, and the believer stands in the middle, confident in the outcome. It’s comforting, sure. But I find myself wanting to sit in the tension of the "in-between." We sing about death being in its place, yet we look around and see it everywhere.

Is this song trying to provide a momentary escape, or is it trying to ground us in a future reality that feels more real than the one we’re currently walking through? Maybe it’s both. Wickham knows the idiom of the contemporary church perfectly, and he utilizes these big, universal themes—stars, scars, thrones, and tears—to bridge the gap between individual anxiety and collective assurance. It’s an effective mechanism for a Sunday morning, even if it leaves me wanting to ask a few more questions about what it looks like when the music stops and the "running" of the demons doesn't seem quite so definitive in our actual, messy lives.