Why Brandon Lake's 'Count 'Em' is the Anthem for Survivors of Narcissistic Abuse

When Brandon Lake’s song ‘Count ’Em’ hit the airwaves, it landed differently. It wasn't just another worship anthem; for those who have survived narcissistic abuse, it felt like a war cry. If you've endured the isolating terror of a smear campaign, covert abuse, or the systemic silencing that follows, you know this song is more than music. It’s a ledger. It's the validation you fought for. It’s a refusal to let an abuser's gaslighting rewrite your history.

The Power of Counting: A Survivor's Ledger

Abusers thrive in the shadows of doubt. Their power lies in unrecorded wounds and stories dismissed as “overreactions.” Survivors intimately know the exhaustion of asking, Did that really happen? Am I crazy? This is the intended result of gaslighting.

But the lyrics of ‘Count ’Em’ become a radical act of resistance. Each refrain is a moment of documentation:

• Count the nights of gut-wrenching self-doubt.
• Count the false accusations and lies of the smear campaign.
• Count the scars that ache not as a sign of weakness, but as proof that you survived.

This isn’t about holding a grudge; it's about bearing witness. For anyone recovering from narcissistic abuse, this is a necessary step: document, record, and remember. Every lie, every manipulation, every wound has weight. When tallied, this evidence doesn't diminish you—it proves the staggering scale of what you endured and overcame.

From Wounds to Worship: Decoding the Lyrics' Meaning

What makes Brandon Lake's ‘Count ’Em’ so profound is how it transforms this painful accounting into a fierce act of worship. The song is defiant, not fragile. It refuses to whisper about forgiveness before the truth has been roared from the rooftops. For survivors like me who have faced reputational ruin and character assassination, that bold stance is revolutionary.

An abuser’s goal is to leave you fragmented—isolated, discredited, and questioning your own sanity. ‘Count ’Em’ gathers those broken pieces, sets them to a powerful rhythm, and hands them back to you, whole. The song provides the language to declare:

• Here is what was done to me.
• Here is the weight I was forced to carry.
• And here is how, by grace, I am still standing.

Challenging Spiritual Bypassing with a Faith That Fights

Within many faith communities, survivors are often met with well-meaning but damaging spiritual bypassing: “Just forgive and forget.” “Don’t dwell on the past.” “Let go and let God.”

But the message of ‘Count ’Em’ doesn’t ask you to forget. It empowers you to confront. To measure. To look the injustice square in the face and invite God’s righteous anger to meet you there.

This is not weakness; it's spiritual warfare. This is not bitterness; it's brutal honesty. A faith that refuses to cover up or minimize abuse is a faith that fights for the silenced. In this light, ‘Count ’Em’ becomes more than a song. It’s spiritual armor for those whose greatest battles were fought in secret.

The SEO of Survival: Making My Testimony Searchable

As a survivor, I understand that an abuser’s most effective weapon is silence. This is why archiving my truth—making it visible and searchable—is a non-negotiable act of justice. The themes in ‘Count ’Em’ align perfectly with my search for solidarity in faith:

• Keywords of Lived Experience: When survivors search for terms like "narcissistic smear campaign," "recovering from spiritual abuse," or "songs about overcoming false accusations," they aren't just looking for definitions. They are desperately searching for proof they aren't alone.
• Building a Cultural Archive: By connecting powerful cultural artifacts like this song to the survivor narrative, we build a searchable library of testimony. It creates a digital footprint that says: We were here. We spoke up. We will not be erased.

A Survivor’s Benediction

When I hear ‘Count ’Em’, I don’t just hear Brandon Lake’s voice. I hear my own. I hear the collective voice of every person who has been smeared, silenced, and dismissed. I hear every survivor who was told to "let it go" when letting go felt like betraying themselves.

So, we count. Not to stay trapped in the pain, but to honor the truth. Not to obsess over the wounds, but to measure the sheer miracle of our own survival.

In the end, the numbers don't just add up to our suffering. They add up to our strength. And that is a testimony worth singing, shouting, and making sure others can find.