John Van Deusen nearly drowned in the making of his newest worship-centric record. Not literally, but emotionally and spiritually speaking. In the process of creation, he admits it was a season defined by both joyous compulsion and the deepest depression he has ever experienced. He shares this tension most fully on his Bandcamp page, but it hangs over As Long as I Am in This Tent of a Body, I Will Make a Joyful Noise Pt. 1 like a haunting refrain. What results is an eighteen-track odyssey that thrums with the raw nerve of duality, echoing the wild swings of emotion seen across the biblical Psalms.

At first, the tension is subtle, woven into the eclectic mix of tracks that stretch across an hour of music. But the more you listen, the more that push-and-pull becomes clear. The anguish surfaces most overtly on the standout "Answer Me God," which, despite its demanding title, unfolds with patience before reaching its earnest plea for a word from a God who so often feels silent. You may also find yourself relating to lyrics like, "I know that You can heal me, Lord / Only if You are willing, Lord / What must I do to reach Your ear down here?/What must I do to reach Your ear down here." It is a sentiment that sets the tone for an album as singable as it is searching. The lift in the latter half of the song is pure catharsis. It is one of many songs like it; the melodies will linger long after your headphones give out.

The opening track, "I Was Made to Praise," begins with a trembling cry, Van Deusen's voice caught between surrender and despair -- a hymn born out of both conviction and cost. Lyrically, John confesses, "This joyful noise is yours / but it's not the best you've heard / It doesn't matter, though / because the chords or the phrase don't matter / I was made to praise."

That same pulse runs through "Jesus of Nazareth" and "Hallelujah Story," where soaring melodies meet confessional lyrics, singing of salvation while exposing the bruises beneath. "The Red Sea Within Me" stands out as a revelation, its swelling arrangement depicting faith as both rescue and undertow, refusing to resolve the tension at its core. On it he sings joyously, "And You turn me upside down / And You turn fear into faith / Oh, You split the Red Sea within me / My Savior made a way."

Elsewhere, the contrasts continue. "No Greater Love" surges with anthemic hope, though retaining a tinge of fragility. "Close Enough," with its country shuffle, feels like a weary but heartfelt prayer, flowing seamlessly into "Marsh," an instrumental that lets nature's rhythms contrast with our artificial noise. "Anything Other Than What I Am Right Now" churns with restless self-examination, mirroring Van Deusen's tug-of-war between people-pleasing and creating honestly before God. The record's anchor comes with "By Gracious Powers," the track from which the album takes its title. It blends grace and grit in equal measure; a prayer forged in both hope and despair. That prayer narrows to a fragile light in "You Are Our Home," stripped back to piano and vocals, and swells again in "The Prayer of Surrender," where delicate guitar lines frame a hook that is both memorable and moving. "Let Me Rest My Head" erupts into pop-rock joy, its fuzzy guitars a direct callback to Van Deusen's Origami Pt. 3, offering fans of his past work a familiar entry point.

The album's boldest swing comes with "All of Me/All of You," beginning with the sweet moment of Van Deusen prompting his child to recite Scripture before exploding into a noise-rock exorcism. It is as if worship itself collides head-on with chaos, ending in an ecstatic instrumental coda that reshapes the classic "The Heart of Worship." The following track, "Self-Aware, Ready to Die," lightens the weight with a quick, glitchy burst -- thirty seconds of sonic mischief that nods to the absurdity of making art amid despair. The lyrics here cover the tension of wanting to be all of God's while still being afraid to surrender. On it he shares vulnerably, "All of me for all of You / Lord, I'm afraid / And desperate to lose / All of me for All." It's lines like these that further prove Van Deusen to be a master at his craft.

Part of what grounds the extremes in these songs is the presence of collaborators. Drummer Braydn Krueger, string arranger Andrew Joslyn, and a community of Northwest musicians lend the album a communal heartbeat. Recorded across late-night home sessions and Seattle studios, the project captures both intimacy and grandeur. The strings and drums each strike their note perfectly, and anchor the album, even as John ventures in different directions musically. Family and friends are lifeboats upon the sea of his despair, tethering Van Deusen to safety when depression threatened to pull him under.

Still, the length and density of ...Tent of a Body... will test listeners' attention span. Eighteen tracks make for a sprawling listen, and in a culture tuned to singles and playlists, not everyone will stick around for the full journey. Yet Van Deusen is upfront about this: he hopes the oddities, detours, and sheer scope of the record are what keep people returning. For fans of the whole-album experience, its restless shifts are part of the reward.

What makes the project compelling is how fully it sidesteps the polish of modern worship music. Instead, John creates something raw and radiant, holding together both the ecstasy of faith and the agony of doubt. Earnestness takes center stage more than his eclectic Origami series, but a rebellious spark still lingers, pushing him to experiment and surprise. If Part 1 is this unflinching, Part 2 promises to venture even deeper into the sacred unknown of worship.

Van Deusen, who has never been fond of either mainstream or Christian industry molds, winks at the gravity of modern worship while refusing to play by its rules. Driven by an unconscious hunger, he stitches together the torn edges of opposites: cacophony's roar entwined with serenity's sigh, noise married to silence. His art is restless alchemy, a collision of chaos and calm, where the discordant hums are in harmony with the still. Perhaps you need to look no further than the album artwork itself for a greater "show" of this ethos. Painfully collaged together from hours of finding, sorting, and wedding public domain images together, it communicates John's artistic ethos in a visually arresting way. There's much to parse and mine for meaning.

All in all, As Long as I Am in This Tent of a Body, I Will Make a Joyful Noise, Pt. 1 is not an easy listen, but it is a rewarding one. For those willing to meet him in the tension, Van Deusen offers worship for the in-between places: honest, restless, and deeply human.