Maverick City Music + Todd Galberth + Travis Greene - Jesus is Coming Lyrics

Video

Kingdom (feat. Naomi Raine & Chandler Moore) | Maverick City Music x Kirk Franklin

Meaning & Inspiration

There is a certain fatigue that sets in when worship music becomes too predictable. We’ve all been there: standing in a room, waiting for the bridge to hit, knowing exactly what word is coming next. In this track, Maverick City Music, Todd Galberth, and Travis Greene lean hard into a promise that’s easy to sing but hard to live: "We won’t submit to sorrow."

That’s the line. That’s the Power Line.

It’s an aggressive stance. Most songs about grief or trial talk about "getting through" or "waiting for" better days. But "we won’t submit" implies a fight. It acknowledges that sorrow has a claim on you—it’s knocking at your door, demanding your attention and your posture—and you are choosing to withhold your signature. You aren't just sad; you’re under siege, and you’re deciding not to sign the treaty.

It reminds me of Romans 12:21: "Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good." We often treat "overcoming" as a passive state of grace, but there is a distinct grit in that line. It sounds like someone who has been staring at a wall for three hours at 3:00 a.m. and finally decided to stand up.

Musically, the song relies on repetition. Some might argue it repeats to fill time, but I see it as a rhythmic bracing of the soul. You have to say "joy is coming" a dozen times because the first time you say it, you’re trying to convince yourself. By the tenth time, you’re starting to believe it. It’s a rhythmic anchoring. It’s not poetic; it’s survival.

However, I find myself lingering on the tension between the "night" and the "morning." The lyrics promise that joy is coming, but they don't erase the weariness of the night. It leaves me wondering: what happens in the hour before the sun breaks? If we "won't submit to sorrow," does that mean we aren't allowed to be tired?

There’s a danger in anthems like this—the danger of performing confidence when we are actually frayed. If we sing this, we have to mean the "we" part. If I’m not capable of refusing to submit to my sorrow today, I need the person standing to my left to be doing the refusing for me.

Ultimately, this isn't a song about the absence of darkness. It’s a song about the refusal to call the darkness "home." It’s a simple, stubborn, and necessary declaration for anyone who feels like they’re waiting for a sunrise that’s taking its sweet time. It doesn't solve the problem, but it changes your standing position. And sometimes, that’s enough to get you through the rest of the night.