Nothing Compares 2 U: When Empty Freedom Meets a Greater Love
Written by Believing Thomas
The Ache Behind the Anthem
“Nothing Compares 2 U” is a lament of absence, covered by many artists, and hauntingly performed by the late Chris Cornell (see above link). Time is counted (“seven hours and thirteen days”), freedom expands (“I can do whatever I want”), comfort is purchased (“a fancy restaurant”), substitutions are attempted (“every girl I see”), advice is offered (“try to have fun”)—and the ache remains. It’s all deeply human, and painfully honest.
During my own long season of depression, this song felt like home base—because it names what the natural man feels when the thing he loves most is gone: emptiness that no distraction can silence (Jer 2:13). It sounds like grief, and often it is. But under the grief, there’s also a spiritual pattern Scripture exposes and heals.
The Natural Man: Empty Freedom and Borrowed Joy
The song’s story is the self-life in slow motion.
“I can do whatever I want.”
Autonomy without anchor. Freedom that cannot cure loneliness. The natural man equates freedom with options, yet option-rich days feel hollow (Prov 14:12).“Nothing can take away these blues.”
Numbing, upgrading, replacing—none of it reaches the ache. Broken cisterns hold no water (Jer 2:13). The soul was not made to live off substitutes.“Like a bird without a song.”
Loss doesn’t just remove a person; it removes meaning. The self-life needs a center to sing to, and when the center is gone, so is the song (Ps 42:3–5).“Where did I go wrong?”
The loop of guilt and self-blame. The natural man looks inward for both diagnosis and cure, and finds neither (Rom 7:18).“Try to have fun.”
Thin therapy. Pleasure can distract but cannot deliver. It doesn’t heal the root or quiet the conscience (Ecc 2:10–11).Replacements on repeat.
“Arms around every girl” only amplifies the absence. Idols multiply pain: good gifts become cruel masters when we ask them to be gods (Ps 16:4).
If you’ve lived this, you know: the chorus rings true. Nothing compares—because the heart is searching for Someone it keeps mistaking for something (Ps 63:1; Augustine’s old insight: our hearts are restless until they rest in Him).
The New Creation: The One Love That Truly “Compares”
The Gospel doesn’t deny grief; it meets us in it. It tells us a different story of absence and presence:
Not abandoned: In Christ, nothing can separate us from the love of God (Rom 8:38–39). Feelings rise and fall; union remains (1 Cor 6:17).
Not unloved: We are accepted in the Beloved (Eph 1:6). We don’t climb up to be loved; Love came down and made His home in us (Col 1:27).
Not unfinished: We died with Christ and were raised with Him (Rom 6:4–6). The old regime of self-rule has been judged; a new creation has begun (2 Cor 5:17).
Not unfed: Abide in the Vine and bear much fruit (John 15:5). He does not starve desire; He sanctifies and satisfies it in Himself (Ps 16:11; Ps 37:4).
And now the refrain changes. Nothing compares—but now it’s no longer about the loss that devours; it’s about the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus (Phil 3:8). The song’s truth gets redeemed: the heart finally finds the One it was reaching for in every other direction.
Why This Resonated in My Depression
Back then, I heard this song as a soundtrack for my emptiness. I didn’t yet see that I was asking created things to do the work of the Creator. I was trying to manage pain with autonomy, distraction, and willpower—life in Adam—instead of receiving life in Christ. I believed in Jesus, but I was still living from myself. The ache kept telling me, “Nothing compares,” and it was right—just not in the way I thought.
Now, in Christ, the lyric is still true—but it proclaims fullness, not famine. I no longer “give up” desire; I bring desire to the One who reorders it and fills it (Gal 5:24–25; Ps 73:25–26). The exchanged life isn’t stoic; it’s satisfied.
A Gentle Word for the Grieving
If you’re grieving a real loss, please hear this: grief is not unbelief. The Psalms cry, question, and wait (Ps 13; Ps 62). Lament is not a detour; it’s a doorway. Bring your ache to the Lord who binds up the brokenhearted (Isa 61:1) and invites you to the throne of grace for help in time of need (Heb 4:16). If the dark thoughts are crushing or you feel unsafe, reach out to a trusted pastor, counselor, or crisis line. You’re not alone.
The Invitation
If this song names your emptiness, let it point beyond itself. Trade empty freedom for abiding life. Trade substitutes for the Source. Say a simple yes:
Lord Jesus, I bring You my restless heart.
I renounce self as lord and receive You as my life.
Teach me to abide. Reorder my loves.
Nothing compares to You. Amen.
Passages to Sit With
Jer 2:13 • Ps 42 • Ps 63:1–8 • Ps 73:25–26 • Matt 11:28–30 • John 4:13–14 • John 15:1–5 • Rom 6:4–6 • Rom 8:31–39 • 2 Cor 5:17 • Eph 1:6 • Phil 3:7–9 • Col 1:27 • Gal 5:24–25