Peg Luke doesn’t reinterpret hymns—she reinvents them with a kind of reverent defiance. With “My Faith Looks Up”, the multi-award-nominated artist doesn’t just dip into tradition; she sets it spinning with Irish fire and ethereal grace.
The track opens like a breeze off the Irish coast—gentle, mysterious, and alive with purpose. Uilleann pipes wail in that unmistakable, soul-tugging way, grounding the piece in Celtic earthiness. Then the bodhrán kicks in, heartbeat-steady, pushing it forward like a pilgrimage in motion. But this isn’t about folklore—it’s about faith, personal and raw, refracted through years of isolation, resilience, and deep spiritual reckoning.
For Luke, this isn’t just a song. It’s survival. Diagnosed with an autoimmune disease and navigating the isolating fog of the pandemic, Luke used solitude not as a wall, but as a well. You can hear that depth. “My Faith Looks Up” feels like someone walking out of a long tunnel and finding sky—faith not as doctrine, but as light.
Her hallmark flute dances through the arrangement—not flashy, not ornamental, but guiding. It’s the prayer you hum under your breath when words don’t work anymore. And just when the song feels ready to float off completely, the percussion tethers it back to the ground, to history, to the human need to move, to feel, to dance.
Peg Luke‘s decision to restructure the original hymn’s lyrics—shuffling the verses to create a more emotionally potent arc—is quietly brilliant. It’s not about making it “better.” It’s about telling her version of the story. One that rises, breaks, and lifts again.
Where many sacred music artists lean into rigidity, Peg Luke moves with instinct. She’s not bound to tradition—she communes with it. And somehow, by pairing ancient words with modern pulse, she delivers a hymn that feels more alive than ever.
This is not just a revival. It’s a resurrection in real time—with green hills, golden light, and a flute leading the way.