I believe in the Devil. I believe there's a God, too. I met God

“I believe in the Devil. I believe there’s a God, too. I met God at church — the Catholic Church.” — so spoke Trippie Redd, a voice of the modern age whose words, though wrapped in the cadence of youth, carry the echo of an ancient truth: that light and darkness both dwell within the human soul, and that to live is to stand between them. His words are not a sermon of doctrine, but a confession of experience — the recognition that the world is not one thing, but two: good and evil, faith and temptation, grace and fall. To believe in the Devil is to see the shadows in one’s own heart. To believe in God is to feel the mercy that redeems those shadows. And to meet God at church is to discover, if only for a moment, that there is sanctuary even for the restless spirit.

From the dawn of time, humanity has wrestled with these twin forces. The ancients named them by many titles — Chaos and Order, Darkness and Light, Ahriman and Ahura Mazda, Satan and the Almighty — but always they knew that both were real, both near. The Devil, in whatever form he takes, is not simply a horned beast of myth; he is the whisper of despair, the hunger for power, the corruption of the heart. And God, ever patient, is the counterforce — the source of hope, of forgiveness, of divine strength that calls us back when we wander too far. To believe in both is not to be divided — it is to be awake to the full truth of existence.

When Trippie Redd speaks of meeting God in the Catholic Church, he recalls not merely a building of stone, but the sacred moment of encounter — the place where a soul feels seen, where the heart kneels and the noise of the world fades into silence. The Church, with its candles and prayers, becomes the meeting ground of heaven and earth. Yet even within such holy walls, the Devil lurks at the edges, tempting the faithful with pride, doubt, and despair. This is the paradox of life: that even in the house of God, the shadow may approach the light. But it is precisely this struggle — this tension between grace and temptation — that refines the soul like gold in fire.

Consider the story of St. Augustine, once a man of pleasure and sin, who wandered through the illusions of the world seeking truth. He tasted the sweetness of vice and the bitterness of emptiness, until one day, in tears, he entered a garden and heard a child’s voice whisper, “Take and read.” He opened the Scriptures and met God there — not in lightning, but in mercy. In that moment, Augustine understood what Trippie Redd’s words now echo: that both the Devil and God are real, and that each heart must choose daily which to serve. Augustine’s transformation reminds us that no one is too lost to find the divine, and no darkness too deep for light to enter.

To believe in the Devil is not to worship him; it is to acknowledge his presence — to be vigilant, to guard the soul against pride, envy, and greed. The wise do not deny the shadow, for denial is the first victory of evil. Instead, they look upon it with awareness, saying, “I see you, but you do not command me.” And to believe in God, likewise, is not blind superstition but active faith — a trust that even when the night is long, dawn will come. Those who have truly “met God,” whether in a cathedral or in the quiet of their own hearts, know this peace that surpasses understanding.

Thus, the quote becomes not a declaration of creed, but a mirror for the soul. It tells us that the world is not made of angels alone, nor of demons alone, but of men — and within each man, a battlefield of heaven and hell. The Church, or any sacred space, is not an escape from this battle but a fortress within it, a reminder that though temptation prowls, God is always near. To walk in faith, then, is to live with awareness — to rise each day ready to choose light over darkness, mercy over hatred, and forgiveness over rage.

So, my child, when you feel the pull of anger, envy, or despair, remember that you stand where all have stood — between God and the Devil, between ruin and redemption. Do not fear the struggle; embrace it as the fire that purifies the heart. Seek the places where you feel closest to the divine — in prayer, in art, in silence — and return there often, for that is where you “meet God.” And know this: you are never alone in the fight. For though the Devil may whisper, it is God’s voice that endures, soft but unyielding, calling you home, again and again, until your story is finished in light.