Tears streamed down my face… I’d just had a holy moment at a Coldplay concert.
Now, Coldplay isn't a Christian band. Chris Martin, though raised in an evangelical home, has since distanced himself from traditional religion. In a recent interview, he described himself as an ‘alltheist’, saying, “My God, for me, is all things and all people. God is everywhere and in everyone; it’s also the unknowable, the vast majesty behind everything.” He went on to explain that God exists at the edge of human understanding, at the place where thinking can’t reach.
And while I don’t necessarily agree with every part of his sentiment, I can’t help but love the truth in those words: God is the vast majesty behind everything. So there I was, in section 130, row 20, seat 26, in awe, experiencing God’s majesty everywhere.
The journey to the concert felt less like a car ride and more like a pilgrimage. My good friends, Grant and Sharon, offered to drive Emily and me from the Central Coast, and, like all truly generous people, they packed snacks. Somehow, the goodness of God could be tasted in every raspberry lolly. Grant and Sharon are the sort of people who make you feel like you’re exactly where you need to be. They are encouraging and encouragement is a gift from God. And as we arrived, God revealed himself again in the beauty of a food truck selling loaded fries and a Jack Daniel’s stand. Every step is sacred, a whisper from above, reminding us that He’s present in the smallest, most unexpected details.
When we took our seats, the anticipation in the air was electric. Then the wristbands began to glow, flooding the stadium with a sea of lights. The room erupted. If you’ve ever felt that swell of collective joy—the kind that causes a visceral reaction—you’ll know what I mean when I say it’s like a reminder that this human experience is divine.
A few songs in, the guy next to us—a hipster type in a Coldplay shirt—noticed our empty drinks and offered us a sip from his water bottle. I couldn’t help but think that if Jesus were there, he would have done the same thing, probably while also wearing a faded band tee.
The concert was wonderful: lights, fireworks, planets hovering in the air, and groovy glasses that revealed love within every light… And though I might not agree with every lyric, or fully understand all the liberal symbolism, the atmosphere was undeniably filled with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. It felt like the Spirit was hovering over Accor Stadium, moving through the crowd of 80,000. Chris Martin, though not a Christian, seemed to carry a reverent humility, thankful for every single person he connected with in that crowd; and that is to be admired.
Then the encore, they played ‘Fix You.’ And that’s when the tears came.
Art is a gift from God, and 'Fix You' is a masterpiece. It’s a lament—a song about pain, about the limits of our human power to help those we love. I believe that the songwriter knows he can’t fix anyone, but, even though we may not have the power to heal or repair someone’s brokenness, it doesn’t mean we don’t desperately wish we could. Sometimes, all we can do is be there, to try. And maybe we have to trust that some greater light will guide them home, something bigger than us that can ignite their bones.
It’s also a song of hope. It reminds me of the Psalms—the same raw mix of despair and worship, suffering and surrender. And when 80,000 voices joined together, singing those words in unity, it felt like a glimpse of heaven. It was as beautiful, if not more, than a Hillsong conference where thousands sing in worship (and to be honest, Coldplay probably has less scandals). It was a room full of imperfect people, all in need of hope, all needing to believe that the light could guide them home. It was a move of God.
The song’s lyrics—“lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones”—hit me deeply. As a Christian, I believe that the light guiding us home is God’s own light, illuminating our path, showing us the way. Jesus said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.” And I believe it’s that same light that can ignite even the driest, most desolate bones. It reminded me of Ezekiel’s vision, standing in a valley filled with dry bones. When he spoke the word of God, “there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone.” Sometimes, all it takes is light and a spark to bring life to the things that seem lost forever.
I started crying. Firstly, because I love music. Secondly, because I love any form of unity. Thirdly, because the sea of lights across the stadium was truly beautiful. And finally, because these 80,000 people were all able to relate to the words of the song, as if we all need a bit of hope, as if we all need fixing. I'm glad to be one of those 80,000.
Thank you, Coldplay.
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