Do Not Give Up Yet

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Romans 12:12 — Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

She texted me out of the blue.

“Can you pray for me?”

Without hesitation, I replied, “of course,” and then I called her.

The conversation was short. Her voice was guarded, but something in it cracked just enough for light to sneak through. We prayed. She thanked me, and we hung up.

And when I sat back in the silence, I felt it. Something had shifted. Just a little. God was doing something.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

That night, I slipped down to my knees for what must have been the hundredth time. I prayed again: for her healing, for her heart, for the wreckage in her past to stop defining her future. I asked God to help her trust Him again.

Because what good would it do if I gave up now?

When I see her again, I have to blink hard to fight back tears. A lump forms fast in my throat, but I still check in on her like I always do. Gently.

This relationship used to be easy. Sweet, even. But that feels like a lifetime ago. And there they are again, those invisible walls she’s learned to stack like bricks, one cold, polite answer at a time. I pray silently.

God, will You make this better again? Please.

That night, with my heart aching, I almost gave into disappointment. I scrolled my phone, trying to outrun my feelings, but there it was again, that familiar nudge in my spirit to pray. It was the kind that won’t let me stay comfortable.

So, I dropped to my knees again. I wept, and God met me there. Again.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

He reminded me of that brave text last night, that prayer call, and that softening in her voice. He’s not done with her.

And suddenly, that was enough.

So, friends, what I am learning is don’t stop praying. Let your knees hit the floor a thousand times if they need to. Keep trusting that beyond what your eyes can see, God is moving mountains in the hearts of those you love.

Because hope isn’t just a feeling. It’s a decision that sounds like this.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

 

Lyrics:

What’s your impossible
Your “I need a miracle”
What’s got you barely hanging by a single thread
What looks so hopeless now
What weighs down your heart with doubt
You beg for a breakthrough but no sign of breakthrough yet

When you’ve cried and you’ve cried til your tears run dry
The answer won’t come and you don’t know why
And you wonder if you can bow your head even one more time

Don’t stop praying
Don’t stop calling on Jesus name
Keep on pounding on heaven’s door
Let your knees wear out the floor
Don’t stop believing
‘Cause mountains move with just a little faith
And your Father’s heard every single word you’re saying
So, don’t stop praying

He’s close to the brokenhearted
Saves those who are crushed in spirit
The Alpha and Omega knows how your story ends

When you’ve cried and you’ve cried til your tears run dry
The answer won’t come and you don’t know why
And you wonder if you can bow your head even one more time
Oh, do it one more time

And don’t stop praying
Don’t stop calling on Jesus name
Keep on pounding on heaven’s door
Let your knees wear out the floor
Don’t stop believing
‘Cause mountains move with just a little faith
And your Father’s heard every single word you’re saying
So, don’t stop praying

(Don’t stop don’t stop praying)
Oh
(Don’t stop don’t stop praying)
Oh, don’t stop praying
(Don’t stop don’t stop praying)
Oh (Oh)

Don’t stop praying for the prodigal
Don’t stop praying for the miracle
Hallelujah, hallelujah and amen

Don’t stop praying that addictions end
Don’t stop praying for deliverance
Hallelujah, hallelujah and amen

Oh, don’t stop praying for the sickness healed
Don’t stop praying for His power revealed
Hallelujah, hallelujah and amen

No, don’t stop praying for the kingdom come
Don’t stop praying that his will be done
Hallelujah, hallelujah and amen

Don’t stop praying
Don’t stop calling on Jesus name
Keep on pounding on heaven’s door
Let your knees wear out the floor
Don’t stop believing
‘Cause mountains move with just a little faith
And your Father’s heard every single word you’re saying
So, don’t stop praying

(Don’t stop don’t stop praying)
(Don’t stop don’t stop praying)
Oh, don’t stop praying
(Don’t stop don’t stop praying)
Don’t you give up now (Oh)
No, don’t stop praying

Music by Matthew West performing “Don’t Stop Praying”
(C) 2024 Provident Label Group LLC, a division of Sony Music Entertainment
#MatthewWest #ChristianMusic #DontStopPraying

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Choosing The Jesus Way

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Matthew 5:44 — “But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”

It was just another Tuesday in the studio. Switches flipped, headphones on, songs queued. I was scanning emails and half-listening when Phil Wickham’s The Jesus Way came through the speakers.

I’ve heard it before (dozens of times, probably). But that day, it just hit differently.

“If you curse me, then I will bless you.
If you hurt me, I will forgive.
And if you hate me, then I will love you.
I choose the Jesus way.”

And suddenly I thought:
Wait. Would I actually do that?

I was flabbergasted. Because my honest answer was, “Absolutely not.”

Not if I’ve been hurt.
Not if I’ve been overlooked or disrespected.
Not when it means blessing someone who lied to me.
Not when it means forgiving someone who never said sorry.

But I couldn’t shake the question. I felt like God was tugging at something in me, asking me to stop pretending I had this Jesus thing figured out. I had convinced myself I was already living that way, but I wasn’t. I was saying the right things, but not living them.

Because the Jesus way? It’s not always easy or aesthetic. It is messy and complicated and sometimes downright painful. And sometimes, saying yes to Jesus means saying yes to being misunderstood, to letting go of grudges, and to loving people who won’t love me back.

It means keeping your spiritual ear tuned even when everything in you wants to shut down. It means choosing to bless someone who might never know the cost of that choice.

So, I prayed right there in the studio. Lord, I don’t know how to love like that, but I want to. Help me to do it…even if it hurts.

I don’t know exactly where that prayer will take me, but I know this. The Jesus way isn’t about what we say we believe. It isn’t a one-time decision. It is an ongoing invitation to choose love when it feels unfair.

And if you’re like me—if you’ve ever convinced yourself you’re living this way but secretly know you’re not—maybe this is your moment too.

No, it’s not easy.
It may even invite pain.

But it’s the Jesus way.
And it’s worth it.

Lyrics:

If you curse me then I will bless you
If you hurt me I will forgive
And if you hate me then I will love you
I choose the Jesus way

If you’re helpless I will defend you
And if you’re burdened I’ll share the weight
And if you’re hopeless then let me show you
There’s hope in the Jesus way

I follow Jesus
I follow Jesus
He wore my sin
I’ll gladly wear His name
He is the treasure
He is the answer
Oh I choose the Jesus way

If you strike me I will embrace you
And if you chain me I’ll sing His praise
And if you kill me my home is heaven
For I choose the Jesus way

I follow Jesus
I follow Jesus
He wore my sin
I’ll gladly wear His name
He is the treasure
He is the answer
Oh I choose the Jesus way

I choose surrender
I choose to love
Oh God my Savior
You’ll always be enough
I choose forgiveness
I choose grace
I choose to worship
No matter what I face

I choose the Jesus way
I choose the Jesus way
I choose the Jesus way
I choose the Jesus way

I follow Jesus
I follow Jesus
He wore my sin
I’ll gladly wear His name
He is the treasure
He is the answer
Oh I choose the Jesus way

I follow Jesus
I follow Jesus
He wore my sin
I’ll gladly wear His name
He is the treasure
He is the answer
Oh I choose the Jesus way
Oh I choose the Jesus way
#PhilWickham #TheJesusWay

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A Couch, a Coffee, and a Change

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Luke 6:36 — “Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.”

Some lessons from God don’t start in a church. They start behind a gym, yelling at a stranger in a junked-out car.

The sun wasn’t even up, but Jeff’s blood was already boiling. There it was: a man’s silhouette under a ragged blanket. Again.

He banged on the window with a flat palm.

“I said this yesterday. You can’t sleep here! I’m not running a shelter. I’m running a business.”

The kid jumped, wide-eyed, and climbed out without a word. He disappeared into the trees like smoke. Jeff stood there for a minute, jaw clenched, muttering all the way back inside.

The next morning? Same car. Same blanket. Same boiling anger.

By day five, Jeff wasn’t even surprised. His feet thundered as he marched toward the car, already rehearsing what to say when—

Do you remember when you had nothing?

The words weren’t audible, but they might as well have been shouted.

He did remember… how close had he had come to losing it all. The gym. His sanity. His hope.

So, he turned around, marched back inside, filled a Styrofoam cup with hot coffee, and carried it out.

“I brought you something.”

The young man sat up slowly, blinking. Confused.

“What’s your name?”

“…Brian.”

They talked a while. After hearing Brian’s story, Jeff offered him a job. Brian agreed, but showed up hours late. This time he didn’t let it slide.

“Job’s off the table,” Jeff said. “But I’ll help you. You can shower here and sleep on the couch. But I’m not jumping in the hole with you. You’ve got to want out.”

The weeks passed, and there were more slip-ups and missed chances. But Jeff didn’t walk away. Every time he looked at Brian, he saw himself, just younger and in need of someone steady.

And do you know what? Eventually, Brian did find a steady, meaningful job, but what he gained more was the confidence that someone cared about him when all he had was a tattered blanket and a place to sleep in the back of someone else’s car.

When you think about Brian and Jeff today, I hope you will remember someone else needs what God gave you, too. Could it be grace? Patience? Or a second chance?

And when you meet someone stuck where you once were, don’t yell. Don’t look away. Just lean in, lend a hand, and offer a little hope and a cup of coffee.

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The Day Hope Came Back

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Romans 15:13 – “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.”

“Enclosed is a check to sponsor one day of Hope. I will be mailing checks to you monthly.”

That is what Susan wrote on the card.

Hope. The word alone brought a lump to her throat.

Hope was her Cocker Spaniel. She had a coat like caramel and eyes that always seemed to understand. For years, she was with Susan for everything. Walks in the early morning. Long afternoons on the porch. The simple parts of life no one else really saw, she was there for them all.

When she passed away in January, she did not know what to do with the stillness. It was more than missing her. It was grief.

For a while, the house felt unfamiliar. She would catch herself looking for Hope and reaching for the leash. Listening for her feet on the floor.

But even in the ache, Susan noticed something. Each morning, she would turn on 88.7 The Cross. And somehow, the words that came through the speakers gave her something she did not know she needed. Not a distraction. Not a fix. Just a reminder that hope still had a place in her story.

Now, by giving she wants to share that same hope with others.

You see, real hope is not sentimental. It is a Person who shows up when life falls apart. He is present on the good days and the bad. His name is Jesus, and if you have known Him in that way, you know He is worth sharing.

Is there someone who needs the same hope that carried you? You may not know their name. But just like Susan, you can still be part of the reason they keep going.

Will you give today so someone else can experience the same hope Susan found?

Your gift makes it possible for 88.7 The Cross to be there in the quiet, in the heartache, in the moments that matter most. Just like Susan, someone is listening—grieving, searching, reaching for a reason to keep going.

And your generosity can be the reason they hear exactly what they need.

Give hope. Share Jesus. Sponsor a day—or whatever you can—because real hope is worth passing on.

GIVE NOW!

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Banjo Strings and Blessings

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Colossians 3:14 — “And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.”

There’s a kind of joy you don’t plan for. It just shows up with paper plates and a guitar. That is how it was sitting outside under the pines at one of my family’s old-fashioned pickin’ and grinnins’.

I was across the table from Uncle Benny. He was working his way through the same question for the fifth a. I kept answering him, because what would be the point in correcting him. Right?

The little ones were darting around barefoot, chasing each other with sticky fingers, dripping popsicle juice everywhere. Someone’s toddler squealed with laughter, and a cousin hollered something about fire ants. If I remember right, a few of the grown-ups rolled their eyes when somebody forgot the ice. Bless it.

The heat was doing what Southern heat does. I kept swatting mosquitoes and trying to smooth down my hair, but before I could even be bothered, the music started.

One by one, a guitar, a banjo, and eventually a karaoke machine made their way out. People gathered near the porch, clapping and singing—some on key, some not even close. It was wonderful.

I couldn’t tell you what we ate that day, probably hot dogs and potato salad, but I remember the sound of my aunt’s laugh. I remember the cold bite of watermelon, and I remember feeling so full, not from food, but from the people around me.

When I think of those “pickin’ and grinnin’” days, my heart aches a little in that sweet way. I want to go back. I want to relive the moments where everything else fell away and all that mattered were the people right in front of me.

So, today, I’m choosing to live like every day is a pickin’ and grinnin’. I won’t wait for the weather to be perfect or for someone else to bring the ice. I want to bring my own glad heart, be interruptible, laugh, and sing off-key.

There’s a lawn chair waiting. Maybe you’d like to join me?

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What Faith Sounds Like in the Dark

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Psalms 119:50 — This is my comfort in my affliction, that your promise gives me life.

No one talks about the silence after a funeral. It is the kind that wraps around your ribcage and squeezes, the kind that makes you forget how to pray.

After TobyMac’s son, Truett, died from an accidental overdose, he knew people meant well. They quoted verses and reminded him of Heaven, but they hadn’t buried their sons. They hadn’t sat on their child’s bed, with sheets still rumpled, wondering how the world could possibly go on.

There was no song to sing. No words were big enough, and no melody was brave enough. The truth was simple and terrible: his son had died, and no amount of faith could make this less awful.

Weeks passed. Then months. And when he finally walked into his first writing session since it all fell apart, he wasn’t sure why he was there. He still felt hollow.

But something happened in that room. He sat down with a few chords, a few unfinished thoughts. What poured out wasn’t polished or planned. It was raw and quiet—an ache turned into lyrics. And the song that came to life that day was called “Faithfully.”

He wrote it because he needed to. He needed a reminder of what he believed… even when he didn’t feel it.

“But when my world broke into pieces
You were there faithfully
When I cried out to You, Jesus
You made a way for me
I may never be the same man
But I’m a man who still believes
When I cried out to You, Jesus
You were there faithfully”

As the song played back, he let the tears fall. That’s when he knew. This was a gift. Not a fix, not an answer—just a lifeline. A melody for the midnight hour. He hadn’t expected “Faithfully” to become the anchor he’d need, but God did.

And maybe you’re in a place like that now. Gutted. Like your world doesn’t make sense. Like God is a million miles away. If so, let this be a hand on your shoulder.

The truth is, God loves you. And He is still holding on. Faithfully.

This is what Toby discovered in that dark stretch of road. Not all prayers get answers. Not all stories get neat endings. But even then, God is good. He won’t abandon you in your pain. If that’s all you can hold onto right now, believe me, that’s enough.

Lyrics:
It’s been a long year; it almost took me down I swear
Life was so good, I’m not so sure we knew what we had
I’ll never be the same man, I’ll never feel like I felt before
It’s been a hard year, it almost took me down

But when we my world broke into pieces
You were there faithfully
When I cried out to you Jesus
You made a way for me

I may never be the same man
But I’m a man who still believes
When I cried out to you Jesus
You were there faithfully

I’ve had a hard time, finding the blue in the skies above me
And if I’m keeping it real, I’ve been half fakin’ the happy they see
I may look like the same man, but I’m half the man I was
It’s been a hard year it almost took me down

In my darkest hour, You met me
So quietly, so gently
You said You’d never leave, and You stood by Your word

So quietly, so gently
In all my pain, You met me
You said You’d never leave, and You stood by Your word

Songwriters: Kyle Williams / Toby McKeehan

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Lessons From a Cast Iron Skillet

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Ephesians 6:2-3 — “Honor your father and mother (this is the first commandment with a promise), that it may go well with you and that you may live long in the land.”

I was standing at the stove last night, stirring a pot, when it hit me like a freight train wrapped in butter and memory. Food is my love language, you see, and it took me back.

Daddy used to come home after long days working the fields in Tallulah. He would be covered in dust and sweat and still manage to whip up the best meal you ever had. He could tickle your taste buds and your funny bone, all in one sitting. Especially with his scrambled eggs.

Saturday mornings, he would make a batch so creamy and seasoned just right, they practically melted on your tongue. They weren’t dry and crumbly like most folks make. No, these were something special, and if you were lucky, he would crack a joke while he was cracking the eggs.

I did not care one bit about learning to cook back then. I was a tomboy, all elbows and skinned knees, with no interest in the stove, but I never missed a meal. Not once. Now, years later, I find myself standing in a kitchen, doing the very thing I once ran from. Somewhere between the recipe cards and the frying pans, I came full circle.

Billy Ray Arender is not here anymore, and if this daddy’s girl could walk into that kitchen again and ask him what he was cooking, I would, a hundred times over. But I can’t. So, I like to cook. I try to remember him and honor his memory.

See, in the Bible, the fifth commandment doesn’t just ask us to obey our parents when we’re young. It teaches us to honor them with our whole lives.

If you’re still blessed to have your parents or grandparents, treasure that gift. Sit with them. Learn from them. Ask them the things you will want to remember, and if they’re already gone, honor them by how you live, how you love, and how you carry their legacy forward—one quiet, everyday moment at a time.

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When Someone Believes in You

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Hebrews 10:24 – “And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works.”

It’s in the pages of the Bible that readers first meet Mordecai—a man living in a foreign land, carrying the weight of his people’s survival on his shoulders.

He didn’t set out to raise a warrior, nor did he expect to shape royalty. All he knew was that Esther needed a home. She was his cousin by blood, a fellow Jew in Persia—exiles in a kingdom that was never truly theirs. After her parents died, he took her in, gave her a place at his table, and called her his own.

The young Jewish girl grew up with questions—about God, about suffering, about why other girls had parents to tuck them in at night and she didn’t. Mordecai did not always have the answers, but he listened. He told her what he knew to be true: that she was not forgotten, that she was made with purpose, and that her life would matter, even when it didn’t feel like it did.

Then came the day they called for all the young women. The king was looking for a new queen. And Esther—his Esther—was taken.

Mordecai could not stop it. He could not follow her inside. All he could do was pace the outer court and pray she would remember who she was when the world tried to tell her otherwise. And she did.

She remembered.

When the fate of their people hung in the balance, Esther stood before the king as a woman of courage. Every day, Mordecai stood right outside the gate so she would know she wasn’t alone. He stayed because he had seen too many young people lose their way, and he refused to let her be one of them.

And I think that is why this story matters.

Because every one of us—father figures, mom, mentors, and friends—carries a voice that shapes identity. Do not underestimate the strength it takes to stay, to believe, and to remind someone of who they truly are when the world tries to define them otherwise.

This Father’s Day, whether by birth or by choice, may we all remember the power of showing up. One day, those we’ve poured into will stand tall, and it will be our steady love that helped them rise.

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Loved. Seen. Protected.

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2 Corinthians 6:18 — “And I will be a father to you, and you shall be sons and daughters to me,” Says the Lord Almighty.

I was just trying to make it home before the storm started. The clouds were piling higher and darker by the minute when my phone rang. I didn’t have to look. I knew who it was.

“Hey,” my dad said. “Have you seen the forecast?”

“Yeah,” I answered. “It’s not looking great.”

“You fill up your gas tank today?”

There it was. Classic Dad. I’m a grown woman with bills, a job, and a baby of my own, but to my dad, I am still his kid. So, he still asks.

And I love that he does.

We talked for a few minutes, just the usual back-and-forth, but there’s something about being on the other end of that call that always steadies me. It makes me feel seen. Protected. Still someone’s daughter.

As we were wrapping up, he said, “Hey, check your glove box when you stop. Left something in there for you last week.”

I was curious. At the next light, I popped it open.

A flashlight. With fresh batteries.

I just stared at it for a second. It was such a dad thing to do.

And it said more than he realized.

Because the truth is, my dad is still fathering me—showing up, checking in, and thinking ahead. And somehow, that flashlight made me feel like I wasn’t alone in the dark.

It also reminded me why I’ve never struggled to believe in a God who loves me…because I’ve seen it modeled my whole life.

Not everybody gets a dad like mine. I know that, but the truth is—everybody does have a Father like that. The Bible tells us that this is the kind of Father God is. He is steady, present, protective, and intentional.

He is the kind of father who checks on you when the skies grow dark. He is the kind that prepares what you need before the storm even hits.

God doesn’t just claim the title of Father. He lives it. Even in this very moment—for you—and He is in it for the long haul.

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Never Stop Planting Seeds

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Galatians 6:9 – “And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.”

Jonathan always thought his grandpa saw too much. Maybe it was age, or maybe it was wisdom, but he could read right through him…especially when Jonathan was unraveling.

It had been a rough stretch. One bad decision turned into ten. He was barely staying afloat. Jonathan hated how weak that made him feel, but Grandpa never scolded or lectured. He just kept calling and kept showing up.

Then came the call: “You think you could take me to Bible study tonight? My night vision is not what it used to be.”

That night, when they pulled into the church parking lot, Jonathan left the car running and began scrolling on his phone, but Grandpa surprised him.

“You can come in, if you want. Up to you.”

There was no pressure. No lecture. There was just a door left open.

Inside, Jonathan didn’t find pews or perfect people. He found men like him telling their real stories, real pain, and real hope. No one tried to clean him up. They just thanked God for the hope they had found.

By the end of the night, Jonathan realized: Grandpa had played him. The whole “I can’t drive at night” thing was a setup.

Grandpa had spent years planting seeds: cooking breakfast, praying when Jonathan didn’t know it, holding steady when everything else shook. This was just another seed planted, but it landed deep.

And Jonathan did not walk away the same. He didn’t become perfect overnight, but he did start to heal as he invited Jesus into His life.

Years later, Jonathan still remembers the sly grin Grandpa gave him after that night. He knew what he was doing. But what stuck most was not the trick. It was the love behind it. The patience. The years of small things that added up.

Maybe someone has done that for you, or maybe you are the one doing it for someone else.

Keep going.

Your steady prayers and faithfulness matter more than you know. You may not see the change yet, but God sees. And He is not finished.

So, keep planting. God brings the growth. Always.

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