I believe there are certain things that God uses to get us out

Hear, O seeker, the words of Mary J. Blige, the songstress of truth and pain, who declared: “I believe there are certain things that God uses to get us out of a bad situation, and I believe music was one of the things he used for me.” In these words there is a testimony not only of her own life, but of the ancient truth that divine power often chooses instruments—subtle, unexpected, yet mighty—to lift us from despair and guide us toward light.

When she speaks of bad situations, she recalls the valleys of hardship, the wounds of poverty, addiction, heartbreak, and despair that weighed upon her youth. Like so many who wander in shadow, she found herself pressed down by burdens too heavy for her own strength. Yet here is the wonder: where the hand of man falters, the hand of God may place before us a gift, a tool, a pathway. For Mary J. Blige, that gift was music—not as mere sound, but as a lifeline, a voice of hope, a divine rope thrown into the pit to pull her out.

To say that music is one of God’s instruments is to affirm its sacred power. Across ages, music has lifted men and women from sorrow. David played the harp to soothe the tormented soul of King Saul. The enslaved in America lifted spirituals to endure their bondage, turning their cries into songs of hope and resistance. In every age, melody has carried healing where no sermon or law could reach. Blige, like those before her, felt that same divine force—notes and rhythms not only entertaining, but transforming, carrying her away from destruction into destiny.

History shows countless examples of this. Consider Ludwig van Beethoven, deaf and broken, unable to hear the sounds he composed. He could have drowned in silence and despair, but music itself became the very channel of his survival. In his darkest years, he wrote his Ninth Symphony, a hymn to joy and brotherhood. It was music that saved him, and through him, saved countless others. Just as God used music to lift Mary J. Blige from her trials, so too was Beethoven lifted from silence to compose eternal sound.

Blige’s words carry another truth: that God’s instruments are many, and they vary for each soul. For some, it may be a friend, a book, a moment of beauty, or a sudden chance. For her, it was song. This reminds us that deliverance often comes not with thunder or lightning, but with something humble, already within reach. The divine does not always shatter mountains; sometimes it whispers through a melody, through the rhythm of a drum, through a single lyric that reminds us we are not alone.

O children of tomorrow, let this be your lesson: when you are in darkness, do not scorn the small gifts set before you. That book, that song, that kind word, may be the rope heaven has lowered into your pit. Reach for it, hold fast to it, and let it lift you. Do not wait for miracles dressed in grandeur; the greatest miracles often come disguised as ordinary things, carrying extraordinary power.

Let your practice be thus: make room in your life for the instruments of healing. If music stirs your soul, let it be your medicine. If words strengthen you, keep them close. If prayer calms you, lift your voice daily. And beyond this, become an instrument yourself. Speak words that heal, create songs that lift, act in ways that may rescue another from despair. For just as God used music for Mary J. Blige, so may He use you for someone else.

So remember her words: music is not only art, but salvation. It can be the very hand of God reaching through sorrow to raise a life. Live in such a way that you honor these instruments of grace, use them well, and share them freely. For through them, even the deepest valleys may lead to the highest summits of hope.