PlanetBoom - All Things New Lyrics

Video

All Things New | Over It All | Planetshakers Official Lyric Video

Meaning & Inspiration

The lights in these youth group rooms are always a little too bright, aren’t they? PlanetBoom knows how to build a hook, but when the bass cuts out and the confetti cannons stop firing, I’m left staring at the line: “You can take the scars and / Turn them into something beautiful.”

It sounds nice. It fits perfectly on a digital graphic. But I’m standing here thinking about a friend who buried their kid three months ago. When you’re sitting in the back of a funeral home, staring at a closed casket, "beautiful" isn't the word that comes to mind. It’s "ruined." It’s "wrong." When the song pivots into "everybody let’s go crazy" immediately after mentioning a broken vessel, it feels like we’re trying to sprint past the grief before we’ve even felt the weight of it. That’s the danger of Cheap Grace—the kind that treats tragedy like a minor technical glitch that Jesus is just waiting to patch over so we can get back to the party.

If God is actually in the business of mending broken vessels, then the process probably looks more like jagged glue lines and missed pieces than some shiny, factory-new restoration. Romans 8:22 talks about the whole creation groaning as in the pains of childbirth. That’s not a dance-off; that’s raw, messy, agonizing work. There is a vast, uncomfortable distance between the promise that He makes all things new and the reality of a Tuesday night when the house is silent and the bank account is empty and you’re wondering if you were ever really heard at all.

Does He make things beautiful? Maybe. But if He does, it’s a beauty that carries the history of the break. When Jesus shows up in the upper room after the resurrection, He doesn't show off a face that never aged or a body that never bled. He shows them His hands. He shows them the holes. He keeps the scars. If the theology of PlanetBoom’s track suggests that the scars disappear into something flawless, then it’s missing the point of the Gospel entirely.

I want to believe it. I really do. But I need to know that the "new" includes the wreckage. I need to know that when I’m lying in bed at 3:00 a.m. feeling like I’m coming apart at the seams, the "goodness" isn't just some abstract concept that gets me through a pop song.

If this faith is going to survive the layoff or the diagnosis, it can’t be a greeting card. It has to be able to sit in the dirt. Maybe the beauty isn't in the fixing; maybe it’s in the fact that He stays in the room while the vessel is still in pieces. I’m not sure I have a tidy answer for why the scars stay, but I’m tired of pretending that a high-energy bridge makes the cracks disappear. Maybe we should stop trying to dance for a minute and just look at the damage.