My Name Is Son

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1 John 3:1 – “See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are.”

They say you can’t miss what you never had, but that’s not true. I missed my dad—even when he was standing in the same room.

I grew up on a dairy farm in southern Vermont. We worked hard. We didn’t talk much. My dad was a man of few words, and I spent most of my boyhood trying to earn one of them. I just wanted to hear that he was proud of me. That I was enough.

But silence echoed louder than any shout.

By the time I was a teenager, the ache in my chest had a name: not good enough. And I learned how to quiet it. First with small lies. Then with alcohol. Then cocaine. Numb was better than nothing. High was easier than hurt.

I wasn’t chasing a thrill. I was running from the boy who never heard the words he needed most.

From the outside, I was the life of the party. Inside, I was unraveling.

Things got dark fast. Addiction doesn’t care if you’re from a good home. It doesn’t care if your mama prayed for you. It just takes. I was burning bridges with everyone I loved, and I didn’t care. I didn’t want to feel anything anymore.

Then came 2017.

My best friend—my anchor, really—died of a heroin overdose. I remember standing at his funeral, heart cracked open, wondering how I’d made it out alive when he didn’t. That was my rock bottom.

I wanted more. I needed more, and I reached for God. It was not with clean hands or a perfect prayer but with honest weakness. To my surprise, He met me there with the kind of love I had tried to earn my whole life.

I love you. I’m proud of you. You’re my son.

It undid me. I wasn’t the addict. I wasn’t the disappointment. I wasn’t just my dad’s silence or my worst mistake. I had a new name now. A new identity. Son.

That word changed everything.

I started writing songs, not for radio play or applause, but because I needed to speak the truth out loud—about pain, about healing, about God. Every time I write, I remember what freedom feels like. And I want others to know it too.

Because here’s the truth: no matter what your dad did or didn’t say, you already have a Father who loves you. He’s not ashamed of you. He’s not withholding anything. And He’s not going anywhere.

You’re not forgotten. You’re not too far gone.

Your name is Daughter. Your name is Son.

— Ben Fuller

 

Who I Am

I stand in front the mirror, But I don’t like who’s looking back at me
Wish I could see things clearer, like who I’m supposed to be
In every trial, lift me higher
Through the fire, hold me tighter
Remind me again, I was made for more

Who I am in the eyes of the Father, Who I am His love set free
Who I was I left at the altar, I am Yours Lord, I believe

It’s who I am – I’m a child of the most-high God and the most-high God’s for me
It’s who I am – I’m a child of the most-high God and the most-high God’s for me

Everything has been changing, You haven’t left a stone unturned
Anything I’ve been facing, I’ll keep standing on Your word
In the water, take me under
Fill my lungs to, to speak Your wonder
You brought me of the darkness, I was made for more

Who I am in the eyes of the father, Who I am His love set free
Who I was I left at the altar, I am Yours Lord I believe

It’s who I am – I’m a child of the most-high God and the most-high God’s for me
It’s who I am – I’m a child of the most-high God and the most-high God’s for me

You gave up everything, for me to have everything
For all of eternity, a song in my lungs to sing

I’m a child of the most-high God and the most-high God’s for me
I’m a child of the most-high God and the most-high God’s for me

Songwriters: Ben Fuller, David Spencer, Krystal Polychronis

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God Likes Being With You

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Galatians 3:26 – “For in Christ Jesus you are all sons of God, through faith.”

Somewhere between the smell of old books and the taste of chocolate ice cream, I learned what love looked like.

I don’t remember when it started, but every Thursday belonged to Dad and me. We’d head to the library first. That old building was nothing fancy, but it felt magical.

The children’s room had this mural of Christopher Robin and Pooh Bear sitting under a tree. There, I would lose myself in books with talking animals and far-off lands while Dad read the paper.

I never once felt rushed there. If anything, it felt like the clock slowed down.

Afterwards, Dad and I would sneak off to the ice cream parlor. Two scoops each. Ever the health enthusiast, Mom was a total health nut, always filling our plates with greens and grains—but come Thursday, we staged our deliciously sweet rebellion.

As the years passed and teenage freedoms called, Thursdays still belonged to the two of us. Even when I started driving, I would rush home after school, knowing Dad would be there waiting.

Family, maybe that’s how God thinks of you, too. He is a good father after all.

Not because you perform well. Not because you pray the right way or check the right boxes. But because you are His. Because He made you. Because it brings Him joy just to be near you.

Maybe all He wants today is to be with you. No agendas. No pressure. Just His quiet, steady presence, like a dad who shows up every Thursday because he loves his kid.

But the dessert He’s bringing isn’t ice cream—it’s delight. That’s what He offers you now, Dear One. Unhurried love and the sweetness of being wanted.

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Breathe In His Presence

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2 Corinthians 3:17 “Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”

If you had asked her, Marie would’ve said she was a wife, a friend, and a worship leader, maybe. But not a songwriter, and certainly not anyone famous.

She felt more at home in ballet studios and church pews than anywhere else. Her days were spent teaching dance, folding laundry, and loving people. Her ministry happened in bare feet and ballet mirrors. Quiet, hidden, holy.

Then came the phone call that changed everything.

Her mentor—a man she cared deeply about, who had once come to church with her— died by suicide. He left behind a note asking Marie to take over the dance studio. No warning. Just grief. And a heavy set of keys.

There was no manual for that kind of loss. No training for how to carry someone else’s legacy when your own knees feel weak beneath you. But Marie kept showing up.

She kept teaching. Pliés in the morning, worship services on Sundays, prayer when she had the words—and when she didn’t, she just whispered the name of Jesus. She didn’t need a spotlight to serve. She just needed space to breathe.

One Sunday night at the Mission Viejo Vineyard in Southern California, there was no plan—no printed setlist. Just Marie and her husband, John, leading worship as they’d done so many times before. They had just finished singing Isn’t He by John Wimber. John kept playing quietly, and in the stillness of that moment, something welled up in Marie’s spirit. It wasn’t rehearsed. It wasn’t planned.

It was just raw worship.

“This is the air I breathe
This is the air I breathe
Your holy presence
Living in me…
And I, I’m desperate for you
And I, I’m lost without you”

The congregation joined in, as if the words had been waiting in their hearts too. And even though Marie had sung spontaneous songs before, something about this one was different. People kept singing it—at home, in the car, in the grocery store. And they told her so.

The song, Breathe, soon became a regular part of their church’s worship. It brought many to tears. Even Marie could hardly get through it herself. “I think the word desperate digs deep into me,” she later said. “The longer I’m a Christian, the more desperate I am for God.”

They recorded the song for Vineyard—just another quiet offering during a season of raw worship. “We recorded the song for Vineyard, and then nothing happened,” Marie would later say. “Not that I thought anything about it, because, to me, it was just a neat thing the Lord gave to our church.”

Five years passed.

Then worship leader Brian Doerksen reached out, asking to include Breathe on Vineyard’s Hungry project. From there, the song quietly began to travel. Michael W. Smith recorded it on his 2001 album Worship. Rebecca St. James followed. But even as it began to echo through churches and concerts around the world, Marie stayed grounded in what it had always been: a prayer whispered in desperation, not a platform.

So when she was driving one day and heard Breathe playing on the radio, it wasn’t excitement that overtook her—it was awe. She pulled the car over, buried her face in her hands, and wept.

Because somehow—somehow—God had taken her lowest moment, her heartbreak, her whispered worship, and turned it into healing for strangers she’d never meet.

How could God take so much pain and breathe hope through it into kitchens and traffic jams and hospital waiting rooms? But He did. He always does. He fills the cracks and carries what we can’t.

Sometimes the Holy Spirit shows up like wind and fire. But more often, He’s as close as breath in our lungs. He doesn’t wait for us to be strong—He fills the places where we’re trembling and somehow gives us the strength to dance again.

Take a deep breath today. Let it remind you that you are not alone. Even when you’re weak, He is near—and that is more than enough.

— Inspired by the story of Marie Barnett

L Y R I C S:

This is the air I breathe
This is the air I breathe
Your Holy Presence
Living in me

This is my daily bread
This is my daily bread
Your very Word
Spoken to me

And I, I’m desperate for you
And I, I’m lost without you

Written by: Marie Barnett
Copyright © 1995 Mercy/Vineyard Songs (ASCAP) (adm at IntegratedRights.com) CCLI#1874117

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Covered in Prayer

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Psalm 55:16–18(a) – But I call to God, and the Lord will save me. Evening and morning and at noon I utter my complaint and moan, and He hears my voice. He redeems my soul in safety from the battle that I wage.

As dawn breaks, I lace up my running shoes and hit the pavement. My path inevitably leads me past a used car lot. The fenced-off area, still dormant at this early hour, showcases a variety of automobiles waiting for their new owners.

But it is not the sedans or SUVs that catch my eye first; it is the formidable security system—a state-of-the-art Rottweiler, a hundred-pound powerhouse of a pooch.

As I approach, like clockwork, the massive dog charges toward me, teeth bared, growling as if I were a threat to his territory. Yet, I am no thief, just someone innocently passing on the sidewalk. As it dashes toward the fence, the dog’s ferocity never fails to send a jolt of fear rushing through me.

I have found that the fence is my friend. Now, as I jog past, I meet the dog’s ferocious gaze with a knowing grin.

“You can’t hurt me,” I scoff

If only I could carry this same assurance when facing the assaults of the enemy. Just like that chain link fence stands between me and the vicious dog, God offers His protection against the prowling dangers of Satan.

When I pray God’s truth, I find Him powerfully shielding me. It is always present. When I embrace it, I reinforce my trust in the safety of that protection, and I can continue running my race with confidence.

Maybe you’ve got something nipping at your heels right now—anxiety, doubt, fear that shows up when you least expect it. What would it look like to face it head-on today, not in your strength, but grounded in prayer?

If you are weary from running scared, let prayer remind you of the truth: you are not unprotected. You are not alone. That fence is stronger than it looks.

— Tammi Arender

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Bathe it in Prayer

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Colossians 4:2 – “Continue steadfastly in prayer, being watchful in it with thanksgiving.”

The moonlight shimmered on the lake, and the silence around Inspiration Point felt sacred. The summer had been busy, filled with the laughter of campers and the rhythm of camp activities. Yet, tonight was different. Sitting on the wooden bench, I stared at the stars, wrestling with a quiet stirring in my heart.

For weeks, something had been pulling me to this moment. After a long prayer, the realization came like a soft whisper: it was time to transfer schools.

Now let me tell you, I did not jump up and shout hallelujah. I sat there stunned. That school held everything familiar—my friends, my rhythm, my memories. But I knew in my bones that God was speaking to me.

Little did I know, the decision had been bathed in prayer for two years by my mother who quietly interceded for me. God had orchestrated this moment perfectly, weaving together years of prayer and a night of surrender under the stars.

Now, that clarity did not make the road easy. Saying goodbye stung, but it was the voice of the Lord. He meant business and I was resolute. I knew I had not been living for the Lord, and this was from His sweet throne of grace. That peace never left me.

Looking back, the change led to growth beyond anything I could have ever imagined. I went from being the party girl to praise and worship leader and missionary.

So here is what I have learned, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart: when it is time to leap, leap big. But first, bathe your decision in prayer. Soak it, steep it, let it sit with God long enough that your heart knows what your head might not.

The peace that follows? That is your green light, and when it comes, do not just tiptoe forward. Run. Trust the One who goes before you.

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Loved by a Good Father

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James 1:17 – “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.”

Looking back, I never understood the idea of ‘missing out’ on having a son to throw a ball with. My dad was different. He was excited to have a daughter to teach. He is the reason I fell in love with sports!

My dad, a 6’4 gentle giant standing, is one of the kindest and strongest men I know. From blending my baby food for daycare to tucking away extra bows so I’d always look cute, he has invested in me from a very young age.

I have two brothers, yet I have always been the athlete of the family. From a young age, Dad taught me to play catch with a Velcro mitt and introduced me to basketball. The joy in his face when he saw me progressing and beating him at his own game is something I will never forget.

Dad’s love was not just about cheering at a game; it was an entire investment in who I could become. He nurtured my talents, big and small, and believed in me more than I believed in myself.

When I think of what it means to be a godly man, I immediately think of him. He reminded me that my gifts come from Jesus. He taught me sportsmanship in working hard and handling setbacks with a positive attitude.

He never raised his voice and always disciplined us in love. In sports, He always made sure I had the best equipment like bats, knee pads and cleats.

Reflecting on his constant encouragement, I see parallels with God. Like my earthly father, God, the Father of Lights, desires to give good gifts to His children and equip them for success in all aspects of their lives.

So remember that God is a good Father, and He wants to help you, not just on the court, but in everything you face today.

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More Than Just a Job

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Colossians 3:23–24  “Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ.”

He had never been one to sit still.

Right out of high school, Cliff went straight to work at the GE factory. It was hard work—long hours, heavy lifting—but it felt good to build a life with his own hands. He stayed there for twenty years.

Until one day, it was over.

The shutdown had been looming for months, but nothing prepared him for that final walk out. There would be no more clocking in and no more steady paycheck. There was just a clean locker and a lot of unanswered questions.

He tried to stay ahead of it. He sent out applications and made phone calls, but doors stayed shut. When he sat down at the kitchen table that night, Cliff felt like he had let his family down.

He remembered something his pastor had said about trusting God to meet their needs, so he said a simple prayer. Just, “Lord, I need help.”

The next morning, the phone rang. It was his pastor. The janitor at church had just retired, and they needed someone to step in. They were also starting a building project and needed help managing it. It meant more hours, more responsibility, and more pay than Cliff had made at the factory.

He said yes.

At first, it just felt like a job. But over time, he began to see the fingerprints of God everywhere. It was there in the quiet early mornings before the lights came on and in the way people worshiped in a clean, welcoming space that felt safe.

And he realized something: this was ministry.

God does not waste any space He gives us to stand in. Whether you hold a Bible or a broom, you have a platform to serve people and point them to Jesus.

Believe me, you do not have to chase something “bigger” to make an impact.

Just be faithful where you are.

That is where He works best.

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What Happens When You Are Available

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Isaiah 6:8 – And I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” Then I said, “Here I am! Send me.”

Eighth grade was a big year for me.

It was the summer I found myself kneeling under a tree at youth camp. I was far enough away from the noise to think yet close enough to still hear the music drifting from the chapel.

I did not know how to pray the right way. I just knew I needed to talk to the One who made all of this—the trees, the sky, and somehow, even me.

I remember looking up and saying, “God, I know You’re the Creator of all things. I have no idea if You can even hear me, but I’m available.”

I meant it. Every word.

When I went back to school that fall, the world around me looked the same—rows of lockers, math homework, everyday middle school chaos. But inside, something had shifted. I began talking to God more in private. Again, my prayers were not eloquent. Most days, they were just raw honesty. Still, I kept showing up and kept staying open.

Years have passed since that summer, but I still remember what it felt like to pray that first real prayer. Today, I get to write songs that help people talk to God. That still stuns me. Not because I think I have earned it, but because it reminds me how powerful one simple moment of surrender can be.

Most of the songs I write are still just prayers like the one under that tree.

Maybe that is the point. So, if you are wondering what comes next or whether God still has something for you, start there.

Get honest. Get still. Ask Him what He wants.

You do not have to map it all out. You just have to stay open. The Creator who made you already knows exactly what He’s doing.

He always has, and He always will.

— Chris Tomlin

LYRICS:

Verse 1
A thousand generations falling down in worship
To sing the song of ages to the Lamb
And all who’ve gone before us and all who will believe
Will sing the song of ages to the Lamb

Pre-Chorus 1
Your name is the highest
Your name is the greatest
Your name stands above them all
All thrones and dominions
All powers and positions
Your name stands above them all

Half-Chorus
And the angels cry, Holy
All creation cries, Holy
You are lifted high, Holy
Holy forever

Verse 2
If you’ve been forgiven and if you’ve been redeemed
Sing the song forever to the Lamb
If you walk in freedom and if you bear His name
Sing the song forever to the Lamb
We’ll sing the song forever and amen

Chorus
Hear your people sing, Holy
To the King of Kings, Holy
You will always be, Holy
Holy forever

Tag
You will always be, Holy
Holy forever

Holy Forever
Written by: Brian Johnson, Chris Tomlin, Jason Ingram, Jenn Johnson, Phil Wickham

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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’ll 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 grief and stillness. For a while, the house felt unfamiliar. She would catch herself reaching for the leash, looking for Hope, and listening for her feet on the floor.

But even in the ache, Susan noticed something. Each morning, she would turn on Always Uplifting 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.

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God’s Peace Runs Deep

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John 16:33 “I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”

Some heartaches do not heal with time. Some settle in like fog—thick, disorienting, and slow to lift.

Horatio Spafford knew that kind of grief.

He and his wife had built a full life in Chicago. He was a respected attorney. They were raising four daughters in a home filled with purpose, joy, and love. Church friends became extended family. Laughter came easy, and life was steady.

Until it was not.

The Great Chicago Fire tore through the city and burned up most of his investments. The financial blow was deep, but survivable. Horatio believed God would carry them through. So, when the chance came for a trip to Europe—some time to breathe, to rest—he sent his wife and girls ahead while he wrapped up business.

Then came the telegram from his wife with just two words: “Saved. Alone.”

Their ship had gone down. His daughters were gone.

When Horatio boarded a vessel to meet his wife, the captain called him to the deck as they passed over the waters where his daughters had drowned. Somehow, in that dark space, Horatio felt a deep peace.

He returned to his cabin and began to write.

When peace, like a river, attended my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

That hymn was not written by a man who had moved on. It came from a man who had met God in the storm. Maybe your storm is not loud or visible. Maybe it looks like keeping your head up at work while your heart quietly breaks, or it looks like showing up for others while wondering who sees you.

Dear one, you do not have to explain your grief for it to be real.

You only need to know this: God is not shaken by your storm. He stays steady. So, if your soul feels unsteady today, you can still say it.

Even here. Even now.

It is well.

LYRICS

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

It is well (it is well)
with my soul (with my soul)
It is well, it is well with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

Words: Ho­ra­tio G. Spaf­ford, 1873.
Tune: Ville du Havre, Phil­ip P. Bliss

MODERN VERSION OF IT IS WELL

(C) 2015 Jesus Culture Music

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