The devil ain't got no music. All music is God's music.

Mavis Staples, the voice that has carried the soul of gospel and the cry for justice across generations, once declared with holy certainty: “The devil ain’t got no music. All music is God’s music.” In these words she lifts the veil from a mystery that many have debated through the ages. For while some have sought to divide sound into sacred and profane, pure and corrupt, Staples proclaims with fire that music itself is not born of darkness but of light. Music is creation, and all creation bears the mark of the divine.

When she says the devil ain’t got no music, she is speaking not of melody alone, but of origin. The devil may twist, may corrupt, may tempt, but he cannot create. His work is destruction, not composition. He tears down but does not build. And so, he has no music, for music is the art of weaving sound into order, of turning chaos into harmony. Music belongs to God because it gives life, because it binds people together, because it uplifts the soul. The devil, being barren of creation, has no claim to it.

And when she proclaims all music is God’s music, she is echoing a truth as old as the psalms of David: that every note, whether sung in church pews, strummed on street corners, or shouted in protest, carries within it the spark of the divine. For music is not about style or genre, but about spirit. Gospel and blues, jazz and rock, folk and hip-hop—all are streams flowing from the same source, carrying the heartbeat of creation. Some may tremble at rhythms deemed worldly, but Staples reminds us that if music carries life, truth, or healing, it belongs not to evil but to God.

History proves her right. The blues, born in the fields of suffering slaves, was once condemned as “the devil’s music.” Yet out of those mournful chords came resilience, community, and hope. From the blues came gospel, jazz, soul, and rock—forms of expression that lifted countless hearts and shaped the voice of nations. Could such streams, flowing from sorrow into hope, belong to the devil? No—they were vessels of divine strength, proof that music in every form can be turned into praise, into protest, into prayer.

The deeper wisdom of Staples’s words is that music is a bridge—between heaven and earth, between suffering and joy, between one human heart and another. To divide music into sacred and profane is to miss the truth that the very act of making music is sacred. It is the breath of life transformed into sound. Whether in a cathedral choir or a smoky blues club, whether whispered in solitude or shouted before multitudes, music testifies to the creative spark God has placed within us.

The lesson, then, is this: do not fear music, but honor it. Do not reject one form because it does not sound like another. Seek the spirit within it. Ask yourself: does this song lift me, does it move me, does it speak truth, does it bind me to others? If it does, then it belongs to God. Even songs of sorrow can glorify God, for they reveal the depths of the human heart and the resilience of the human soul.

Practically, this means: open your ears and your heart to the fullness of music. Sing even if your voice trembles. Dance even if the world frowns. Embrace genres you do not yet understand, for each carries its own truth. Let music be for you what it has always been for humanity: a pathway to healing, to strength, to joy, to God. In honoring music, you honor the Creator who gave it as gift.

So let Mavis Staples’s words echo like a hymn: “The devil ain’t got no music. All music is God’s music.” Let no one deceive you into thinking that rhythm belongs to evil, or that harmony is divided between heaven and hell. Music is one, and it is holy. Sing, therefore, without fear. Play, therefore, without shame. Let every note be an offering, every beat a prayer, every song a testimony. For all music is God’s music, and in it we touch eternity.