Sound the Trumpet…

For years, I wrestled with Kirk Franklin’s music. There were moments when I questioned whether his sound infused with hip-hop, R&B, and contemporary flair, was too close to secular music to truly usher in the presence of God. I wondered if the beats overshadowed the message, if the production diluted the holiness. But then, I learned about his story the pain, the abandonment, the struggle and suddenly, his music made sense.

Kirk Franklin’s artistry isn’t just about praise; it’s about survival. It’s about a man who was born to a teenage mother, given up for adoption, raised in a strict religious household, yet still found himself battling the weight of his past. His music doesn’t just invite you to worship it forces you to confront your own pain and choose to keep going anyway.

Pain as a Trumpet

There’s something about a Kirk Franklin song that feels like a battle cry. When the horns blare, the bass thumps, and the choir erupts, it doesn’t just sound like music it sounds like defiance. It’s the sound of someone who has been broken but refuses to stay down.

I remember moments when I felt like the world had dealt me an impossible hand. The men who saw me as the “fun girl” but never the one to love. The women who pretended to care but only saw me as a means to an end. The family who looked at me with the same disdain as the streets did, if not worse. There were days when the weight of it all made me hate my own life.

But then, a Kirk Franklin song would come on. Maybe it was “I Smile” reminding me that joy isn’t dependent on circumstances. Maybe it was “Brighter Day” whispering that the storm wouldn’t last forever. Or maybe it was “Imagine Me”—the ultimate declaration of breaking free from the lies others spoke over me.

The Gospel of the Broken

Kirk Franklin’s music isn’t for the perfect. It’s not for the ones who’ve never stumbled, never doubted, never screamed into the void wondering if God still heard them. His music is for the ones who’ve had to fight for their faith, who’ve had to choose worship through tears.

That’s why his legacy endures. Because he doesn’t just sing about victory he sings about the fight it takes to get there. He doesn’t just preach about grace he testifies about needing it, desperately, after every mistake.

So, congratulations, Kirk Franklin. Thank you for moving in uncertainty, for creating a sound that reaches beyond the church walls and into the hearts of those who need hope the most. Your music has been the soundtrack to my resilience, and I know it will continue to lift generations to come.

Now, when I press play on a Kirk Franklin song, I don’t just hear music hear a call to rise. And no matter how heavy life gets, that sound always reminds me: Keep going.