Terry MacAlmon - Holy Are You Lord Lyrics

Video

Holy Are You Lord // Terry MacAlmon // Pikes Peak Worship Festival

Meaning & Inspiration

There is a particular gravity in the way Terry MacAlmon anchors the opening of this song, specifically in the choice to use the descriptor "many waters" to define the sound of heaven.

I’ve been stuck on that phrase for a few days now. Why "many waters"? It’s biblical, of course—it’s pulled straight from the apocalyptic imagery of Revelation 1:15 and 14:2—but it’s a strange acoustic choice if you really sit with it. Most of us, when we imagine the sound of a throne room or a worship gathering, lean toward metaphors of fire, wind, or a singular, piercing chord. But "many waters" implies a terrifying, chaotic, and overwhelming fluidity.

It’s not a choir singing in perfect, polished unison. It’s the roar of an ocean. It’s the crashing of waves that don’t stop. When MacAlmon invites the listener to "hear the sound," he’s asking us to imagine something that has no edges, something that doesn't just fill a room but submerges it. There is a sense of powerlessness in that image—you don’t control the tide; you only survive it or drown in it.

I wonder why he chose to pair such a massive, fluid sound with the rigid, repetitive structure of "Holy, holy, holy." There’s a fascinating tension there. You have the chaotic, roaring power of the "many waters"—which feels almost uncontainable—converging into the most disciplined, ancient, and settled confession in the history of the faith. It’s as if the sheer magnitude of the divine presence is so loud, so overwhelming, that it leaves the creature with only one coherent thing to say.

When I listen to this, I don't feel "peaceful" in the way a soft acoustic ballad makes me feel. I feel small. It makes me question my own habit of trying to tidy up worship—trying to make it intellectual or manageable. If worship is actually the sound of many waters, then my prayers shouldn't always feel so controlled or curated. Sometimes they should just be a roar.

Maybe that’s the unfinished part of this for me. We talk so much about "entering His presence," but this song suggests the presence is already a thunderous, existing reality, and we are just finally tuning our ears to the frequency. It makes me wonder if, in our quietest moments of life, we’re actually surrounded by this roar and just too distracted to hear it.

Do we think we’re singing alone? The song suggests we aren't. We’re just adding a few drops to a sea that’s already surging. It’s humbling, really, to realize that the "glory" we’re trying to make known is a sound that’s been filling the throne room since before we arrived. We aren't starting the melody; we’re just catching up to the tide.