"Child/ When life don’t seem worth living/ Come to Jesus/ Let him hold you in his arms.”

Years of stained glass sermons and disapproving glares drove the religion out of me. Hard wooden pews and endless repetition of phrases that meant nothing but somebody else’s control. I would sit in church and breathe the echoing calm before the tirade; beautiful buildings ruined by ugly words.

Then came logic and reason, arguments and awareness. Cynicism, even. If I couldn’t have faith in mere mortals, then what good would it do me to trust an abstract being? Philosophical texts undermining every argument; deep suspicion of such a destructive thing.

Explicitly religious songs make me incredibly uneasy; again, the dilemma of content versus form – hot beats and all. I can’t help but feel preached to, unable to immerse myself in the music because of my fundamental rejection of the message. But then there’s the child in me who prayed every night for eight years even though she knew she had no reason to. The part of me that longs for the comfort of belief – the certainty and resolution people seem to draw from foreign metaphysical realities. Castles in the air that somehow give such a solid foundation.

Somehow this song transcends my every objection and cuts straight to that spiritual need. Warmth, strength, security – every reassurance bound up in her poignant vocal and powerful refrain. I can believe in her vision of a God, the usual platitudes here ringing true instead of hollow, because her message here is the very essence of what religion should be about, before the fear and hatred infects it. Something beautiful, something precious.

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