When the Beat Carries God: A Love Letter to Black Music

I’ll never forget the first time I heard God not in church, not in a gospel choir, but wrapped in melody, gliding through my speakers in The Isley Brothers’ “For the Love of You. "The harmony was so smooth it felt like breath. But the love the kind of love they were singing about it didn’t sound human. I remember thinking: “Who the hell are they loving that hard?”

Because no man has ever loved me like that and I know I’ve never loved anyone like that.  Truthfully, no person ever has.

But somehow, I knew. That love? That was God. That was the kind of divine, unconditional, pull-you-through-the-storm love that doesn’t ask questions, it just shows up.

Black artists have long known how to veil the sacred in rhythm. Whether to avoid judgment, preserve mainstream appeal, or express something too big for a name, our people have found ways to carry God in every chord, every hook, every whispered lyric. Because when your voice is your freedom, your music becomes your ministry. Even if the world doesn’t see it that way.

From spirituals sung under night skies to coded language in the blues, Black music has always been layered. Always spiritual. Always ancestral. Even when it wasn’t labeled “gospel.”

Let’s talk about those “love songs.

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The ones that say “baby,” but mean “God. ”The ones that sound like seduction but feel like surrender. The Isley Brothers knew. So did Anita Baker, Prince, and Lauryn Hill.

Listen again to Sweet Love. To Adore. To Ribbon in the Sky. To Fly Like a Bird by Mariah Carey when she sings “Carry me higher, Lord,” that’s not pop. That’s prophecy.

Even in pop culture, I’ve always wondered when Mariah famously said “I don’t know her” about J. Lo, was she really talking about music? Or was it about something deeper… a question of who still carries God when the industry tries to strip everything sacred away?

I don’t know. But I do know this: Both women have made their mark. And the God in their music even in whispers still shows up.

When I’m creating, whether it’s policy, community strategy, or a healing space, I start with a beat. Music isn’t background for me. It’s blueprint.

I look for God in the melody, in the lyrics, in the feeling. Because sometimes it’s not the plan or the strategy that gets you through. It’s the song that holds you together while you build. It’s the rhythm that reminds you who you are. It’s the lyric that unlocks your next breakthrough.

This is how I work. This is how I pray. This is how I love our people and build for them with music that carries God in every beat.