Trusting God on the Road Ahead

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Psalms 37:23 – The Lord directs the steps of the godly. He delights in every detail of their lives.

You’d be surprised how much thinking a man can get done behind the wheel of a sausage delivery truck.

All day long, rumbling across southeast Texas, I’d pass pine trees, small-town diners, and gas stations that sold boiled peanuts. I’d be wondering things like, “What’s next?” and “Am I out of my mind?”

It’s not the kind of pondering that comes with a side of confidence. No, this was the “Did I just ruin my life?” kind. I had quit my youth pastor job, sold half of what I owned, and crammed my wife and three kids into a single-wide trailer so I could haul my guitar around Texas and sing songs I’d written.

Nobody in Buna, Texas, where I’m from, had ever called that a solid business plan.

And truth be told, I didn’t know how to be a “professional musician.” I only knew I had to step out in faith.

I started with two rules for writing songs. Rule one: they had to line up with Scripture—no exceptions. If God didn’t say it, I didn’t want to sing it. Rule two: the songs had to be honest. If I hadn’t lived it, I couldn’t write it.

That meant some songs had to wait their turn, because there are lessons you can’t write until you’ve bled through it yourself.

Night after night, I’d play to small crowds in church gyms and fellowship halls. Sometimes folks would come up after and say, “That song… it’s like you knew what I was going through.” And I’d think, “Friend, you don’t know how much I needed to hear it too.”

Years later, my life looks different—bigger venues, more miles, more people. But the passion and the drive haven’t changed a lick from those sausage truck days.

Turns out, God doesn’t need us to see the whole road before we start driving.

He just asks us to be faithful where we are. So, choose to be faithful with what God has given you. Somewhere down the line, you’ll look back and realize—He’s been faithful the whole way.

— Micah Tyler

 

Lyrics:

You know I really tried so hard
But I couldn’t make the waters part
Didn’t matter how many times that I had said it
You know I couldn’t save myself
It had to be someone else
And there’s only one who’s getting all of the credit
God did it

Who put the breath in my lungs
Who calls us daughters and sons
All praise goes to just one
God did it, God did it
Who raised me up from that grave
Who’s always making a way
Let me hear the whole church say
God did it, God did it

You can blame it on amazing grace
I could count about a million ways
That I’m not who I was and I don’t regret it
And now you know I’m walking free
Since heaven got a hold of me
It’s the moment my life changed
How could I forget it
God did it

To God be the glory
To God be the glory
To God be the glory
For all He has done
New mercy each morning
Rewriting my story
To God be the glory
For all He has done

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Counting on God a Latte

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Isaiah 41:10 – Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand.

It was just spilled coffee.

Just a brown splash stain on a dress that wasn’t new and wasn’t even my favorite. But there I stood, blinking fast, tears mixing with the moisture from my coffee cup that’s now staining the fabric.

It wasn’t the coffee that got to me. It was that this was “one more thing.”

These days, I’ve turned into a clumsy, uncoordinated mess. I trip over nothing. I drop phones, books, and water bottles. Cups seem to leap from my hands before I even know I’ve lost my grip.

I read once that older folks become more prone to this. Something about damaged nerve endings that don’t send the right messages to the brain.

The balance and coordination that once happened without thinking now require effort.

I used to be steady. Steady as she goes. I could tie my shoes without leaning against anything. I could walk across the room without wondering if the floor would feel different under my feet.

My feet have always been my foundation. Without a good foundation, nothing else works the way it should.

And yet… the coffee in my lap reminded me of my only real foundation. My only steady thing. Jesus.

I wish aging didn’t come with so many humbling reminders of what I can’t do anymore. But maybe those reminders aren’t the worst thing. Maybe they’re the reason I keep leaning harder on Him.

I know someday I’ll walk without effort again. One day I’ll get a new body in Heaven, one with the balance of an Olympic gymnast. My steps will be sure, and my hands will hold things without slipping.

Until then, I’ll keep sipping my coffee and holding on to the One who never lets me down. And I invite you to, too.

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God’s Goodness All Around

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John 15:11 — I have told you these things so that you will be filled with my joy. Yes, your joy will overflow!

When I turned eight, my mom hosted a sleepover that, to my little heart, felt like the event of the year.

We didn’t have decorations or matching pajamas or a color-coded plan. What we had was a popcorn bowl the size of a sink and sleeping bags piled so high you couldn’t even see the carpet.

We stayed up way too late giggling and ate mountains of popcorn. Someone tried to braid hair. Someone else turned a flashlight into a spotlight and declared it was time for a talent show—one that ended in thunderous applause and absolutely zero talent.

I laughed so hard my face hurt.

And my mom? She stayed in the background, quietly watching like we were her favorite show… one she already knew by heart but still wanted to rewatch.

She kept the popcorn coming, refolded blankets we knocked over, and never once told us to quiet down. Not even when we absolutely should have. She just wanted us to enjoy it.

It’s one of my favorite memories. Not because it was extravagant, but because it wasn’t. It was simple and full. Joyful and messy. It’s the kind of memory that sinks deep into your bones and keeps resurfacing when you need it most.

Back then, I didn’t have the words for it. But I see it clearly now: my mom wasn’t just throwing a party. She was giving us a place to belong. A space to be kids.

Looking back, I think God does that too.

He shows up in rooms we almost overlook, in laughter that bubbles up unexpectedly, and in the people who keep refilling our bowls, folding our blankets, and loving us without making a fuss.

So, if He has felt far away lately, do not wait for it to look like something grand. It might already be here.

You can see His goodness all around. It is there in the presence of someone who loves you, the noise of good company, or the touch of sticky hands passing a bowl of popcorn.

God’s goodness is not distant. He is near.

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Healing Hidden in Hardship

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Romans 8:28 — And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose for them.

November 2023 began like any other month—until one phone call changed everything.

When I answered, I found out that my husband, Chris, had been in a head-on collision. Both of his feet were broken. In an instant, life got hard. Really hard.

It was hard because you hate to see someone you love struggle. Chris is at his best when he’s serving others, and now he was the one needing help.

But he handled it with more grace than I think I would have. But even for a man of deep faith, I knew there were days when he sat in the quiet, wondering what God was doing behind the scenes.

I prayed constantly—not just for healing, but that God would use this season for something greater.

Now, two years later, praise God, Chris can walk again and is thriving.

But just a few months ago, as I was dropping off our son at daycare, I noticed his teacher, Ms. Linda, with her arm in a cast. She’s the kind of woman whose joy usually transforms a room, but that morning her face told another story.

She couldn’t pick up the babies, change them, or do any of the things that normally make her feel alive.

I knew Chris would be stopping by during his lunch break, so I prayed that God would give him the right words to encourage her.

When he called me later, I could tell the conversation had gone well. He said he shared a few doctor recommendations, but more importantly, he got to tell her he understood what it feels like to feel purposeless and to be unable to do the things you once took for granted. And he got to encourage her with the word of God.

What an answer to prayer.

And maybe that’s the thing. What if brokenness is really a bridge to healing? Did God break Chris’s feet? No. But He didn’t waste what he went through either.

Maybe the lessons God is teaching you in your darkest seasons are really meant to help light the way for others in theirs?

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When God Whispers

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Proverbs 22:17 — Incline your ear, and hear the words of the wise, and apply your heart to my knowledge.

There are few things that test your patience like someone’s quirks. I have a friend who is just plain loud. And I do not mean “occasionally raises their voice” loud. I mean loud like a kitchen blender with no lid. Loud at breakfast, loud at lunch, loud even after the coffee wears off.

I will admit, I used to get aggravated. Sure, I knew my friend was a little hard of hearing, but (let’s be honest) I think the volume made them feel important. How hard could it be to use your inside voice?

Over time, I realized I was not proud of my attitude. And the truth hit me: in some ways, I do the exact same thing. We all want to feel noticed. We all want to matter. Nobody likes feeling invisible.

But that’s not really where I am going with this.

Later on, I was scrolling on my phone, and a caption struck me like lightning. It said, “If you really want to get someone’s attention, whisper.”

And it made me think about God. He could shout over every voice in the world if He wanted to. But more often than not, He whispers. He does not push His way into my attention span. He waits for me to draw near and talks to me in a still small voice.

I thought about how a whisper cuts through the noise, how it pulls you closer and forces you to focus. A whisper is not something you can half-hear. It demands attention.

That thought changed things for me. It made me want to change my own communication habits. What’s more, it made me want to start leaning in more—really listening— to God and to people.

Changing that one thing really helped me treat my friend better. I still hear her, but I have learned to wait for the pauses. The spaces in between. Past the quirks. In the silence. That is where you can hear what people are really saying.

It also helped me grow in my relationship with Jesus.

So, if I can give you one piece of advice today, focus on the best part. Listen to the whispers.

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Heroes Made in Hard Places

James 1:12 — God blesses those who patiently endure testing and temptation. Afterward they will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love Him.

I knew a real-life hero.

Growing up in downtown Tupelo, I had a pal named Lyle who lived a few streets over. Lyle and I were thick as thieves since we were knee high to a tadpole. We spent endless days running wild through the weeds, and I think I enjoyed those adventures as much as playing with my Barbies.

But even as a kid, the thing that stuck with me was Lyle’s dad—the colonel.

Colonel Carlyle “Smitty” Harris was a man we all talked about like a legend. The thing that struck me most was that his boy, Lyle, hadn’t even met him yet. The Colonel was a top gun fighter pilot way before we even knew that term, and at the time, he was a prisoner of war.

See, during the Vietnam War, his plane was shot down. He had to eject and was immediately captured. For eight years, he was beaten to a pulp, paraded through enemy streets, and thrown into a prison that felt like hell itself.

But in that terrible place, Smitty never quit. Like Paul, he found a way to rise above the pain, praising God through it. He even used a secret tap code to remind fellow prisoners that they were not alone.

I cannot even imagine what those years were like—the fear, the pain, the endless waiting. But Colonel Smitty held onto hope.

Finally, the day everyone had so fervently prayed for arrived. He was triumphantly rescued by American troops. I will never forget watching Lyle meet the father he had only known through photographs and stories. What a day!

If that does not sound like the best movie script ever, I do not know what does.

That day made it clear—heroes are not born with capes. No, the hero’s cape is woven in the hard places.

So what if your toughest days are actually telling a greater story? What if God uses the way you endure them as the very thing that points someone else to the truest hero of all?

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Truth Always Triumphs

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Hebrews 13:8 – Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever.

Phil Wickham sat in his favorite corner of the coffee shop. The hum of espresso machines and quiet chatter around him were, strangely, a comforting soundtrack.

You see, he had noticed something lately, something that weighed on his heart.

People were searching. Everywhere he looked—at his church, in his family, among his friends—he saw it. Questions bubbling up, doubts creeping in, faith being tested. Some were stepping away hoping to find answers somewhere else.

And Phil understood.

The world felt confusing. What was “true” seemed to shift faster than social media trends. He remembered his own storms. Times when life felt like it was tilting, when doubt whispered louder than hope, and battles felt far greater than he could face alone.

In those moments, God had taught him something that changed everything: speak the truth of Him out loud. Say it until it drowns out the lies. Let it anchor your soul. There was nothing magical about it—just the simple, steady power of God’s Word, alive and unchanging.

Later, Phil sat across the table from Jonathan Smith and Chris Davenport during a songwriting session. As they talked, he realized his friends had been seeing the same thing he had: this swirl of doubt and ache for something real.

They did not even have to discuss the goal for the song. They wanted to write a declaration of faith in Jesus—something joyful, life-giving, and unshakable. A song the Church could sing together and mean every word.

They prayed. They wrestled with lyrics and melodies. They poured themselves into it. When the song was finished, they called it “I Believe.” Its chorus said everything they wanted the Church—and their own hearts—to hear:

“I believe there is one salvation
One doorway that leads to life
One redemption, one confession
I believe in the name of Jesus Christ”

This is not just a song to sing on Sunday. It is a declaration that can hold you steady on Tuesday night when the bills are late or Friday morning when the doctor calls with news you did not want.

It is a reminder that in a world where truth seems to change every day, God’s story stays the same. Phil sings it to remind himself. He sings it because it is true. And maybe—if you are in the middle of your own storm—you could too.

 

LYRICS

I believe there is one salvation
One doorway that leads to life
One redemption
One confession
I believe in the name of Jesus Christ

I believe in the crucifixion
By His blood I have been set free
I believe in the resurrection
Hallelujah His life is death’s defeat

All praise to God the Father
All praise to Christ the Son
All praise to the Holy Spirit
Our God has overcome
The King who was and is and evermore will be
In Jesus mighty name I believe
I believe I believe

I believe in the hope of heaven
He’s preparing a place for me
Far beyond what hearts imagine
Ears have heard or eyes have seen

I believe that a day is coming
He’s returning to claim His bride
Light the altar
Keep it burning
See the Lamb who rose a roaring Lion

All praise to God the Father
All praise to Christ the Son
All praise to the Holy Spirit
Our God has overcome
The King who was and is and evermore will be
In Jesus mighty name I believe
Oh I believe in You

No I’ll never be ashamed
Of the gospel of Jesus Christ
How could I ever walk away
From the One who saved my life
No I’ll never be ashamed
Of the gospel of Jesus Christ
How could I ever walk away
From the One who saved my life
Oh no I’ll never be ashamed
Of the gospel of Jesus Christ
How could I ever walk away
From the One who saved my life

All praise to God the Father
All praise to Christ the Son
All praise to the Holy Spirit
Our God has overcome
The King who was and is and evermore will be
In Jesus mighty name I believe

All praise to God Our Father
All praise to Christ the Son
All praise to the Holy Spirit
Our God has overcome
The King who was and is and evermore will be
In Jesus mighty name I believe
In Jesus mighty name I believe
I believe I believe
I believe I believe

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Embracing God’s Grace

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Ephesians 2:8 — “For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God.”

Several years ago, I realized I was keeping score. I was keeping a record of wrong that God wasn’t. Not for anyone else, but I was certainly doing this with my own sin.

I was not accepting His grace for me, just for everyone around me. I wanted to try to move past my mistakes, but I constantly attached shame to every sin. Over time, as God grew and matured me, I knew I needed to receive and accept His grace, mercy, and hope for me first.

It’s kind of like the airline’s emergency rule: put on your oxygen mask first and then help everyone else. In the same way, because I was a youth pastor, I needed to accept being a child of God before doing ministry.

I had to practice what I was teaching the students in my care. Even as an adult with adult responsibilities, I had to be His child first. As I got older and became a husband and father, my reliance on God’s grace had to go even deeper.

Because of what Jesus accomplished on the cross, we never have to hold ourselves to some unattainable personal standard.

We confess and give it all to God, and He lifts that burden off us with His atonement and sacrifice. Then, we are not left with guilt and shame, but His righteousness and the reminder that Jesus loved us enough to see our sin, step into our lives, and offer His grace. It’s the divine exchange of our sin for His forgiveness.

We deny God and rob ourselves when we do not allow His full gift of forgiveness. Whether for the first time, or the first time in a long time, God wants you to be able to say, “I see grace … for me.”

— Micah Tyler

 

Lyrics:

I’ve seen shame
The kind that comes from mistakes
The kind that won’t go away
When I turned around
They were right there to remind me

I’ve seen regret
The kind that messes with your head
The failures and the can’t forgets
But standing here now
I’m thanking God it’s behind me

Cause I’ve seen nail scarred hands
Reach out and wipe it all away

Now I see grace
Hallelujah I stand amazed
I’m staring at an empty grave
And the stone that You rolled away
When I was a prodigal
You saw a son
When I left the 99
You saw the one
And just like that
All my past has been erased
When I look back
I see grace

I still hurt
Fall short of what You say I’m worth
And that devil says I don’t deserve
What You did on the cross
And he’s right cause I don’t
But You did it anyway

I see grace
Hallelujah I stand amazed
I’m staring at an empty grave
And the stone that You rolled away
When I was a prodigal
You saw a son
When I left the 99
You saw the one
And just like that all my past has been erased
When I look back
I see grace, grace
God’s grace
Grace that is greater than all my sin
Thank God almighty
Gonna sing it again
Oh grace, grace
God’s grace
Grace that is greater than all my sin

I see grace
Hallelujah I stand amazed
I’m staring at an empty grave
And the stone that You rolled away
I was a prodigal
You saw a son
When I left the 99
You saw the one
And just like that all my past has been erased
When I look back
I see grace, grace
God’s grace (I see grace)
Grace that is greater than all my sin
Thank God almighty
Gonna sing it again

Grace oh grace
God’s grace
Grace that is greater than all my sin

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The Simple Secret of Prayer

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Psalms 145:18 — The Lord is near to all who call on Him, to all who call on Him in truth.

I’ve got a story to tell you. It’s about an old man who kept an empty chair next to his bed.

He didn’t have many visitors, except for the nurse and a young pastor who stopped by once a week. On one visit, the pastor noticed the chair and asked gently, “Were you expecting company?”

The old man smiled. “That chair is for Jesus,” he said. “Years ago, a friend told me that prayer isn’t complicated. It’s just talking to Jesus like He’s sitting right next to you. So, every day, I pull up a chair and talk out loud.”

He chuckled and added, “It might sound a little silly, but I’ve never once felt alone since I started doing it.”

The pastor was quiet for a moment, moved by the man’s honesty. Over the next few visits, they would pray together that way—like Jesus was right there in the room. And somehow, it changed the way the pastor prayed, too.

Then one morning, the man passed peacefully in his sleep. The nurse said he was found with his hand resting on that empty chair.

Now we don’t know much else, but maybe we don’t need to, because that is the kind of friendship Jesus invites us into. Real, near, and present.

So, friend, if today feels heavy or quiet or lonely…pull up a chair.

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Strong in Every Storm

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Isaiah 43:2 — When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown. When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you.

It was one of those mornings when I felt heavy long before the sun had fully risen.

I carried my worries like a weight across my shoulders. Responsibilities piled high. Problems without clear answers crowded my mind.

I turned to my Bible out of habit and hope, even though my thoughts were tangled and the words blurred. Still, I kept reading. That day, I found myself drawn into the story of Jesus on the boat with His disciples when the storm hit.

The scene played out clearly in my mind. The wind screamed across the water. Waves crashed hard against the wooden sides of the boat. The danger was real—enough to sink them.

And there, right in the middle of it all, Jesus was sleeping.

He was not absent or unaware of the storm. He was simply resting.

When the disciples woke Him, He did not join their panic. Instead, He asked a simple question: “Where is your faith?”

Those words struck me deeply. I knew the end of that story—how Jesus calmed the storm—but it felt like God was asking the same question to my anxious heart that day.

I closed the Book and stayed still for a moment. A truth swelled up inside me:

God is strong.

Not just strong in a distant, “back then” kind of way. He is strong here and now, with authority over the storms that press in around me.

More than that, He is not standing on the shore watching from afar. He is in my boat with me embodying peace.

And if you are wondering, no, the storm around me has not broken yet. The answers I want are still somewhere beyond the horizon, but I know I am not facing it alone.

If you can relate, I hope you will take courage with me. The waves are no match for Him.

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