Faith, Not Foul-Mouthed Scolds, Shined at the Grammys

Salena Zito
Mon, 09 Feb 2026 21:02:42 -0800
Opinion

After the Grammy Awards aired live from Crypto.com Arena in Los Angeles before 12,000 attendees and millions of viewers worldwide, the one speech that has resonated most centered on faith and redemption, delivered by a man named Jason DeFord, better known as Jelly Roll.

As DeFord stepped up to accept his Best Contemporary Country Album award, he spoke through emotion about the long road that carried him from the criminal justice system to the very stage where he now stood.

And in a moment when the spotlight could have been used to lecture half the country for thinking differently, he chose instead to speak with grace, faith and gratitude, the kind of perspective that only comes from someone who has truly found the peace of redemption.
Updated: Tue Feb 10, 2026

After the Grammy Awards aired live from Crypto.com Arena in Los Angeles before 12,000 attendees and millions of viewers worldwide, the one speech that has resonated most centered on faith and redemption, delivered by a man named Jason DeFord, better known as Jelly Roll.

As DeFord stepped up to accept his Best Contemporary Country Album award, he spoke through emotion about the long road that carried him from the criminal justice system to the very stage where he now stood.

And in a moment when the spotlight could have been used to lecture half the country for thinking differently, he chose instead to speak with grace, faith and gratitude, the kind of perspective that only comes from someone who has truly found the peace of redemption.

"They're going to try to kick me off here, so just let me try to get this out," DeFord said. "First of all, Jesus, I hear you, and I'm listening. Lord, I am listening, Lord. Second of all, I want to thank my beautiful wife. I would have never changed my life without you. I would have ended up dead or in jail. I would have killed myself if it wasn't for you and Jesus. I thank you for that."

He went on to note the inspiration behind the album "Beautifully Broken," which was being honored.

"There was a time in my life, y'all, that I was broken," DeFord explained. "That's why I wrote this album. I didn't think I had a chance, y'all. There were days that I thought the darkest things. I was a horrible human."

He then held up a little red Bible, saying, "There was a moment in my life that all I had was a Bible this big and a radio the same size, and a 6-by-8-foot cell. And I believe that those two things could change my life. I believe that music had the power to change my life, and God had the power to change my life. And I want to tell y'all right now, Jesus is for everybody. Jesus is not owned by one political party. Jesus is not owned by no music label. Jesus is Jesus, and anybody can have a relationship with Him. I love you, Lord."

It was obvious the ceremony would follow the same script it has for the past quarter-century — not merely political, not just tilted one way, but loudly moralizing and entirely predictable: another stage crafted by the entertainment industry to remind viewers that if you backed Republicans or their agenda, you were not welcome in Hollywood's good graces.

Nearly every star on the red carpet sported black-and-white pins that read "ICE OUT." It kicked into high gear with Bad Bunny, the Puerto Rican singer and headliner of the Super Bowl halftime show, who, when accepting the award for best musica urbana album, placed politics before faith and said, "Before I say thanks to God, I'm going to say, 'ICE out.'"

Throughout the night, singers used their moment to echo that sentiment. Billie Eilish, when accepting the Song of the Year award, said, "No one is illegal on stolen land," then went into a stream of blunt profanity that was censored from at least the network broadcast.

Jelly Roll is a man who has been through hell and back, and he will be the first to admit he made many of those choices that put him in harm's way. He is also a man who has felt the power of redemption because he embodies the way it has transformed him from being lost to finding the capacity to embrace faith and love.

So when he won, the moment wasn't about himself at all. He turned the spotlight toward his faith, his family and his fans, offering them the grace of recognition. On a national stage built for individual glory, he chose the language of "we," not "I."

When reporters later asked why he hadn't waded into politics, at least during his time in the spotlight, he spoke with the easy freedom of someone who places faith, whatever form it takes, above the worldly idols society often elevates, including politics.

He said he genuinely didn't think people should be concerned with his political opinions: "You know, I'm a dumb redneck, like, I haven't watched enough. ... I didn't have a phone for 18 months. I've had one for four months, and I don't have social media. I hate to be the artist that's aloof, but I just, like ... I've become so disconnected from what's happening."

He hinted he might have something to say about rural politics and survival in the future, something he would speak about loud and clear, but not on this night. Not when he wanted to do what many Christians would do when they were grateful: take the shine off themselves and place it on the faith and the family and the people who supported them to earn this award.

There was an abundance of focus by the leftist elite on what was said during the ceremony, but what was heard in the middle of the country and resonated there was Jelly Roll being an example of a restored life, of a man who is grateful and in that grace shares his gift of redemption so that others know it is there for the taking for them too.