It was the late 2000s when a specific sound started coming out of Sydney, Australia, that would basically change how millions of people sang on Sunday mornings. If you grew up in a certain type of church, you know the vibe. Energetic drums. Shimmering delay on the guitars. And a hook that felt like it could punch through a brick wall. When Joth Hunt and the Planetshakers crew released nothing is impossible lyrics, they weren't just writing another catchy tune for a youth conference. They were bottling up a specific brand of defiant optimism.
Honestly, it’s a bit of a phenomenon. Some songs have a shelf life of maybe six months before they’re replaced by the next big anthem from Bethel or Elevation. But this one? It stuck. People still search for the words because the song addresses a fundamental human need to believe that the ceiling isn't as low as it looks.
The Anatomy of the Planetshakers Sound
Planetshakers didn't invent the "stadium rock" worship style, but they certainly polished it until it gleamed. The nothing is impossible lyrics reflect a very specific theology of "big faith." It’s loud. It’s fast.
The song kicks off by establishing a worldview where sight isn't the primary sensor. "Through You I can do anything / I can do all things." It’s a direct nod to Philippians 4:13, a verse that has been tattooed on more athletes' biceps than perhaps any other piece of literature. But in the context of this song, it’s paired with the idea of seeing the "impossible" bow down. It’s gutsy. Some critics of contemporary worship music (CWM) find this kind of lyricism a bit too close to "Prosperity Gospel" territory, while others see it as a necessary shot of adrenaline for a weary soul.
What’s interesting is how the verse structures are relatively short. They serve as a runway. They exist purely to build the tension that eventually explodes in the chorus. It’s a classic songwriting trick: keep the verses grounded in the "struggle" or the "process," and then let the chorus fly into the "victory."
Why the Bridge is the Secret Sauce
If you’ve ever been in a room where this song is being played live, the bridge is where the atmosphere usually shifts. "I believe, I believe / I believe, I believe in You."
It sounds simple. Maybe too simple? On paper, it looks like a repetitive loop that an AI might spit out. But in a live setting, it functions as a chant. It’s a rhythmic anchor. Musicologists often point out that repetitive lyrics in liturgical or worship settings serve a meditative purpose. They bypass the analytical brain and go straight for the emotional center. By the time the singer hits that tenth "I believe," the audience isn't just listening to a song; they’re participating in an affirmation of their own internal resilience.
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The Israel Houghton Connection
You can't talk about these lyrics without mentioning Israel Houghton. When he teamed up with Planetshakers for the version many people know best, he brought a soulful, gospel-infused weight to the track.
Houghton is a master of the "vamp"—that section at the end of a song where the artist starts ad-libbing. His take on the nothing is impossible lyrics added layers of complexity. He’d riff on the idea of God’s power, turning a straightforward pop-rock song into something that felt a bit more like a revival meeting. This collaboration helped the song cross over from the predominantly white "CCM" (Contemporary Christian Music) charts into the Gospel charts, which is a rare feat in the often-siloed world of religious music.
Verse by Verse Breakdown
Let’s look at the actual words.
- "I'm not living by what I see": This is the core thesis. It’s an invitation to ignore the bank balance, the medical report, or the news cycle.
- "I'm not living by what I feel": This is actually the harder part for most people. Feelings are loud. This lyric suggests that there is a truth more "true" than our current emotional state.
- "Deep down I, I know that You're here with me": This is the pivot. It moves the song from a generic "I can do it" power anthem into a relational space.
The song actually mirrors a lot of the Stoic philosophies—the idea that our internal state shouldn't be governed by external chaos. Of course, it wraps that philosophy in a Judeo-Christian framework, but the psychological appeal is universal.
What People Get Wrong About These Lyrics
There’s a common misconception that songs like "Nothing is Impossible" are meant to be literal magic spells. Like, if you sing it loud enough, your car will fix itself or your boss will give you a raise.
That’s a shallow reading.
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Most people who find deep meaning in nothing is impossible lyrics are using them as a form of cognitive reframing. They are in the middle of a divorce, a layoff, or a health crisis. The "impossibility" isn't a lack of a private jet; it’s the mountain of grief they’re trying to climb. The song acts as a psychological "re-set" button. It’s an intentional choice to focus on potential rather than limitation.
It’s also worth noting that the song is deeply communal. Worship lyrics are rarely meant to be read as private poetry. They are "we" songs. Even when the lyrics say "I," they are being shouted by 5,000 people at once. That collective energy matters. It validates the individual's struggle. You’re not the only one trying to believe in the impossible; the person to your left is, too.
The Technical Side of the Track
Musically, the song relies heavily on a 4/4 time signature and a driving tempo, usually around 128 to 130 BPM. This is the "sweet spot" for high-energy music. It matches the human heart rate during moderate exercise.
The chord progression is standard—mostly staying within the I, IV, V, and vi chords. But it’s the arrangement that makes the lyrics pop. If the music were soft and acoustic, the words "nothing is impossible" might sound like a platitude. Because the music is aggressive and bold, the words feel like a declaration.
Impact on Global Worship Culture
Planetshakers is based in Melbourne, but their influence is massive in places like Indonesia, the Philippines, and South America. In these regions, the nothing is impossible lyrics take on a different weight. In communities facing systemic poverty or political instability, a song about God doing the impossible isn't just a nice sentiment. It’s a survival strategy.
I’ve seen videos of massive outdoor rallies in Jakarta where the entire crowd is jumping in unison to this chorus. It’s a cultural bridge. It’s one of the few songs that can be translated into Spanish, Korean, or Portuguese and lose absolutely none of its punch. The message is simple enough to be translated easily but deep enough to be felt.
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How to Use These Lyrics in Your Own Life
If you’re looking up the words because you’re going through a rough patch, don’t just read them. Listen to the different versions.
Check out the original Planetshakers version for that raw, high-energy Sydney sound. Then, find the Israel Houghton version for a bit more soul. There are also dozens of acoustic covers on YouTube that strip away the synthesizers and electric guitars, leaving just the core message.
Next Steps for Deepening Your Connection to the Song:
- Journal the "Impossibles": Write down three things in your life right now that feel like a dead end. Use the song as a background track and try to imagine a "third way" through those problems that you haven't considered yet.
- Comparative Listening: Look up the lyrics to "Nothing is Impossible" alongside a song like "Way Maker" or "Build My Life." Notice how they handle the theme of "trust" differently. One is a roar; the others are more like a whisper.
- Study the Roots: If you’re into the theology, look up the specific Bible verses the song references (like Matthew 17:20 or Mark 10:27). It helps to see where the songwriters got their "raw materials."
The reality is that nothing is impossible lyrics aren't going anywhere. As long as people feel stuck, they’re going to need songs that remind them that "stuck" is just a temporary state. It’s a loud, crashing, slightly over-the-top reminder that the story isn’t over yet.
Whether you're a worship leader looking for a Sunday morning opener or someone just trying to get through a Monday morning commute, there's a reason these words keep coming back. They offer hope without blinking. They acknowledge the "impossible" and then they choose to sing right over the top of it.