God put me on this earth to bring souls back to the Kingdom of

In the words of Tory Lanez, the modern minstrel who has walked through both light and shadow, there burns a message of divine calling and redemption: “God put me on this earth to bring souls back to the Kingdom of God. You don’t need to pray ten times a day – you just need hope. My music is going to stop war; it’s the healing music. I see myself in Brazil, in Syria, in Darfur, and places where they really need hope.” Though spoken by an artist of the present age, these words carry the timeless rhythm of prophecy, echoing the ancient belief that art, when touched by the divine, becomes a bridge between heaven and humanity.

At its heart, this quote reveals a vision of purpose — the belief that one’s gifts are not born for vanity or fame, but for the salvation of others. Lanez speaks not as a performer seeking applause, but as a vessel of healing, a man who feels chosen by a higher will. The ancients would have understood this sentiment well, for in every era the divine calls certain souls to bear light through their craft — whether through poetry, music, or wisdom. To be chosen thus is to carry both a burden and a blessing: to lift the weary, to kindle hope in the hearts of the broken, and to remind the world that love still breathes amid the noise of chaos.

When Lanez says, “You don’t need to pray ten times a day – you just need hope,” he speaks not to dismiss devotion, but to elevate the spirit of faith beyond ritual. Hope, in its truest form, is the silent prayer of the soul — the trust that goodness will prevail even when the heavens seem silent. In every sacred text, hope stands as the seed from which faith grows. When a person has lost everything, even the will to kneel, hope remains the whisper of God in the heart: “I am still here.” Lanez’s words remind us that hope is the purest prayer, and that through it, even the lost can find their way home to the divine.

His vision of “healing music” calls to mind the ancient power of sound itself — the oldest language of the soul. Long before men wrote prayers, they sang them. The prophets of Israel played the lyre, the shamans of old beat drums to call upon the spirits, and the bards of Greece sang of glory and grace. In every age, music has been the invisible medicine of mankind, soothing the wounded and stirring the sleeping heart. Lanez, in claiming this path, joins that eternal lineage of healers through sound. His mission — to bring hope to the suffering in places like Brazil, Syria, and Darfur — transcends entertainment; it becomes a ministry of the soul. For where words fail, melody speaks; where theology divides, rhythm unites.

History, too, gives us witness to the truth of this calling. Consider Bob Marley, whose songs became hymns for liberation. His music crossed oceans and boundaries, reaching the oppressed in lands far from his own. He sang not only for joy, but for justice; not for fame, but for freedom. His rhythm became prayer, his lyrics became light. Like Lanez, Marley believed that music could stop war, not through the sword, but through awakening hearts to their shared humanity. The weapon of sound became an instrument of peace, proving that art guided by purpose is mightier than any army.

In this light, Tory Lanez’s declaration is not mere ambition; it is a modern echo of the prophets who once said, “Here am I, send me.” He envisions a world redeemed not by might, but by mercy — where the divine speaks not from pulpits or temples alone, but through the rhythm of drums, the hum of strings, and the human voice crying out for love. His dream of healing through music reminds us that faith need not be bound to creed or ritual; it can flow through every creative act that uplifts the spirit and renews the heart’s courage to believe.

And so, the lesson shines forth: each of us is given a gift — a light to bear into the darkness. It need not be music or art; it may be kindness, labor, or truth. But it is our sacred duty to use that gift not for ourselves, but for the healing of others. Hope must not remain an idea; it must become action. When we speak words that comfort, when we forgive where we could have condemned, when we create something that brings joy to the weary — we, too, become healers, messengers of the divine.

Therefore, remember this, O listener: you do not need to pray ten times a day to touch God. You need only live with hope, and share that hope through your gift. Like the musician who turns pain into harmony, or the poet who turns grief into beauty, you too can become an instrument of healing. For every act of compassion, every note of courage, every spark of love is a song in the great symphony of God — the music that, as Tory Lanez envisioned, will one day stop war and restore the soul of the world.