Music:The Soul Touch Weapon

How I Repurposed a Tool of Destruction into an Instrument of Worship

Music has always been more than just sound to me. Growing up, the Spanish salsa, 90’s soft rock, and Latin freestyle music that played on repeat weren’t just background noise—they became my cleaning anthems. As a teen, my ear for music was huge; from country to gospel to crunk and every grassroots genre in between, music was my mental escape. It was where words were sung and combined to ground moments and memories.

More powerfully, music was my way of expressing feelings to an external world that wouldn’t listen to me. I called it a “soul touch weapon,” a “mastered manipulated weapon of mass destruction.”

Lucifer’s Choir and the Perverted Design

My experience affirmed a deep, ancient theological principle: Music is not neutral.

If the old stories are true, Lucifer was the leader of the holy choir, designated by God to serenade Him with exhortation and worship. That means music was designed to be mesmerizing and captivating—it’s a divine technology, a profound vehicle for spirit.

But just like Lucifer’s creation was perverted when he fell, that divine power can be twisted. The very tool designed for connection and exaltation can be redirected toward destruction, deception, and despair.

I experienced both sides of this truth. Music was my therapy in hard moments, but in my weakest, it became the weapon used against me.

The Day the Weapon Fired

In late 2013, on December 23rd, my kids had just been removed from my custody. I was broken, and in that agonizing moment, music didn’t comfort me—it trapped me.

The song “Just Give Me a Reason” was the soundtrack to my absolute lowest point. With that melody playing, I took all my medications and waited. It was a terrifying, weak moment that landed me in the psych ward—I thought I was going crazy. The music hadn’t caused the pain, but it had successfully anchored and amplified the sorrow, capturing my suicidal intent and turning itself into a ritualistic trigger. It locked the decision into the rhythm, making sorrow feel justified.

This is the contrast of music as a weapon:

Weapon of Exaltation: Music used for connection, peace, and praise.
Weapon of Torture: Music used to amplify pain, destroy identity, and break the will. (Think of the documented use of continuous, loud, repetitive music—even the Barney theme song—to torture detainees, stripping them of their subjective reality).

Repurposing the Weapon: From Anchor to Anthem

But that’s not where the story ends. The ultimate theological principle is Redemption and Recalibration of Created Purpose. God doesn’t destroy the broken thing; He reclaims and restores it.

Crucially, we defeat the enemy’s tools when we worship properly. Worship isn’t just a song; it is a weapon allowed us to use against the devil and all evils.

Here’s the powerful paradox: our very flesh loves this type of worship. When we properly align that powerful force back to its Creator, it not only pleases the ear and the spirit but also the body. Proper musical worship releases powerful, positive neurochemicals like dopamine and serotonin, literally fighting the physical effects of despair and anxiety with a divine counter-punch.

I have taken that same powerful mental and emotional connection to music, which was once such a tool against me, and have recalibrated its targeting system.

Today, I see music as an instrumental part of my worship and my relationship with God. The power that almost took my life is now the most powerful tool I have to exalt my God. I didn’t have to eliminate music; I consecrated it. I disarmed the weapon, and turned it into my daily declaration of where my soul finds its footing—not in the justification of sorrow, but in the victory of faith.

The soul touch weapon now works for me, not against me.

What song was playing in your life when you felt the most broken? And what song are you using today to fight back? Share your thoughts below!