What "This I Believe (The Creed)" means
Confession is a form of resistance. When the early church began codifying what it believed in creedal form, it was not an academic exercise. It was a way of drawing a line in the sand against every competing claim about ultimate reality. "This I Believe (The Creed)," written and performed by Hillsong Worship, takes the substance of the Apostles Creed and sets it to music at G (male) or Bb (female), 72 BPM, a tempo unhurried enough to let the theological weight of each phrase land. First Corinthians 15:3-5 and Romans 10:9-10 form the doctrinal spine, the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus as the core confession on which everything else in the creed depends. The song is dense with content by design. It is not trying to produce a single emotion. It is trying to shape a community around a set of shared convictions that connect them to believers across twenty centuries. What the church sings in "This I Believe" is not new. It is what the church has always confessed, dressed in a contemporary arrangement that makes it accessible to a room that may never have heard the Apostles Creed read aloud in a worship service.
What this song does in a room
Something happens to a congregation when they realize they are not making these words up. The Apostles Creed is one of the oldest shared confessions in Christianity, and singing its content is an act of solidarity with every believer who has stood in a room, often at great cost, and said the same things. Rooms that understand that context tend to sing with a different quality of conviction. The song does not feel like a personal testimony. It feels like a statement of record, and that is precisely what makes it powerful in the room. The communal weight of "this is what we believe" is different from "this is how I feel today." The song holds those two things in tension and resolves in favor of the objective claim over the subjective experience, which is the right resolution for a creedal confession.
What this song is saying about God
"This I Believe" works through the whole Trinitarian structure of Christian faith without abbreviating any part of it. The Father who made everything. The Son who came, died, rose, and is coming again. The Spirit who is active now in the community of faith. The resurrection of the dead and the life of the age to come. The song does not pick a favorite attribute or circle back to one comfort repeatedly. It moves through the architecture of the faith with deliberate breadth, which means it is saying something unusual for a modern worship song: all of it matters. The resurrection is not a footnote. The return of Christ is not an afterthought. The Spirit's present activity is not a vague add-on. All of it belongs to the confession, and the song refuses to let any part be omitted.
Scriptural backbone
First Corinthians 15:3-5 is the earliest creedal statement in the New Testament. Paul tells the Corinthians that he delivered to them "as of first importance" what he himself received: that Christ died for sins according to the scriptures, was buried, was raised on the third day, and appeared to witnesses. The language of received and delivered points to an oral tradition already in circulation within two decades of the resurrection. The song stands in that same tradition. Romans 10:9-10 frames confession as the instrument of saving faith: "if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved." The act of singing "This I Believe" is not merely artistic expression. It is the church doing the very thing Paul describes as the heartbeat of living, saving faith.
How to use it in a service
This song is purpose-built for moments when the church is rehearsing its identity. Baptism services, membership Sundays, and confirmation gatherings are the obvious placements. The song also serves well at the start of a teaching series on core doctrine, because it gives the congregation a musical orientation to the terrain before the exposition begins. Before or after communion it can function as a corporate confession that frames what the table is about. If your congregation includes people from traditions where the Apostles Creed was read regularly, this song will feel like coming home. For those with no creedal background, a brief explanation of what a creed is and why the church has always used them adds meaningful context without over-explaining.
Things to watch for as the worship leader
Do not rush this song. At 72 BPM it is already moving at a measured pace, but the temptation in execution is to treat the longer lyric as something to survive rather than something to inhabit. Slow your phrasing internally even if the tempo stays constant. Each line of the creed deserves its moment, especially the sections that name doctrines the congregation may hold lightly, such as the resurrection of the body or the coming judgment. Your own weight on those phrases will determine whether the congregation treats them as the anchors they are. A second watch item: encourage people to sing this song as a confession, not a song they enjoy. Frame it that way. The mode of engagement changes when people know what they are actually doing.
A note for the team behind you (techs, vocalists, band)
Every instrument on this song is in service to the lyric. That is a discipline the whole team needs to agree on before the service. Keys and strings, keep the pads supportive and warm without pulling attention. The lyric is the content; the arrangement is the frame. Guitarists, warmer tone choices serve this song better than bright or cutting tones that compete with the vocal. The lyric needs to be at the center of what the congregation hears, not the guitar texture. Techs, verify the lyric display before service rather than during it. This is one of the songs where reading the words while singing matters most. If the display is delayed, poorly formatted, or hard to read from the back of the room, the congregation will be behind the music and the corporate confession will fracture. Check it in rehearsal.