Today’s Always Uplifting Verse and Devotional to start your day off right!

God Never Skips Over You

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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.

Sunflower seeds, red dirt, and Gatorade. That was the theme of my childhood summers.

I can still smell the nacho cheese from the concession stand and see the red lips of other kids eating snowballs by the bleachers. Everything about those days stuck—on my cleats, in my memory, in who I was becoming.

Those days playing softball was where I learned how to work with others, how to win well, and how to lose without falling apart.

That is, I thought I had learned it until the all-star list went up.

We were all crowded around the bulletin board. I was bouncing on the balls of my feet, pretending not to care as much as I did. One by one, the names were called out. I leaned in.

And then it was over.

My name was not there.

I blinked, waited, and checked again. Maybe they skipped a line. Maybe someone forgot something. But they had not. They just… did not choose me.

I stood still. My face burned. I could feel my throat get tight. Everyone else was laughing and hugging. I just stared at the list offended. I had been one of the best on the team. At least, I thought I was.

By the time we got back to the car, I was quiet in that heavy way you are when you feel hurt. My arms were crossed, eyes out the window. I hoped no one would say anything.

But later on, my dad came to me, handed me my glove, and said, “Let’s get to work.” There was no lecture, no pity, just steady love.

So, I kept going.

That year I worked harder, not to prove them wrong, but to become someone who did not give up so easily. The next season, I was the starting pitcher.

Looking back now, I think God used that moment to teach me the kind of lesson you can’t learn when everyone is clapping for you. He used it to show me that being overlooked by people does not mean being unseen by Him.

If you are walking through something similar—feeling forgotten, wondering if any of it matters—please hear this. It does matter. You matter. You matter even when no one calls your name.

The invitation is not to quit or to prove them wrong. It is to put in the work, to trust who God says you are, and to grow like it is true.

Because it is.

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From Forgiveness to Family

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Matthew 6:12 – “And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.”

Over the past few years, I’ve been on this journey of writing songs inspired by the real life stories that people send to me.

This one story in particular has had a profound impact on me. It hit me kind of hard. It’s about a woman who did the impossible, and it made me ask myself if I could do the same.

Renee had four kids. Two of her daughters were twins. Megan was coming home from the beach one night with her best friend when their car was struck by a drunk driver named Eric, a 24-year-old kid.

Megan lost her life. Eric killed both girls that were in the car. Renee lost her daughter in an instant. Next thing she knows, she finds herself in a courtroom watching this young man, this 24-year-old man, get sentenced to 22 years in prison.

Renee wrote to me and said, “I now have a mission that I never would have chosen.”

What she meant by that is that in the years that followed, she began to travel around to schools and churches and different functions, and she would speak about the dangers of drunk driving.

But as the years progressed, she felt like something was missing from her presentation, and that’s when God put it on her heart that she had not forgiven this man who took the life of her daughter. And so she reached out and did the impossible.

She reached out to Eric in prison and said, “I forgive you.”

The ripple effects of that act of forgiveness are still being felt today. That young man’s life was absolutely changed because this woman forgave him.

He said, “I can’t even forgive myself, and she forgave me.” Eric said he found his eternal salvation as a result of this act.

One by one, all of Rene’s family members followed her lead, and they reached out and expressed forgiveness to Eric. So much so that now they describe Eric as part of their family, like a son to Renee.

The story doesn’t stop there though. Renee went to the courts along with her family, and she was able to have Eric’s sentence cut in half from 22 years to 11 years.

This blew me away.

The reason she did it is so that Eric could have a second chance at life, and so that he could join her in their presentations. She told me that now she shares not only about the dangers of drunk driving, but also about the power of forgiveness.

— Matthew West

 

LYRICS

It’s the hardest thing to give away
And the last thing on your mind today
It always goes to those that don’t deserve

It’s the opposite of how you feel
When the pain they caused is just to real
It takes everything you have just to say the word…

Forgiveness
Forgiveness

It flies in the face of all your pride
It moves away the mad inside
It’s always anger’s own worst enemy
Even when the jury and the judge
Say you gotta right to hold a grudge
It’s the whisper in your ear saying “Set It Free”

Forgiveness
Forgiveness
Forgiveness
Forgiveness

Show me how to love the unlovable
Show me how to reach the unreachable
Help me now to do the impossible

Forgiveness, Forgiveness

Help me now to do the impossible
Forgiveness

It’ll clear the bitterness away
It can even set a prisoner free
There is no end to what it’s power can do
So, let it go and be amazed
By what you see through eyes of grace
The prisoner that it really frees is you

Forgiveness
Forgiveness
Forgiveness
Forgiveness

Show me how to love the unlovable
Show me how to reach the unreachable
Help me now to do the impossible
Forgiveness

I want to finally set it free
So show me how to see what Your mercy sees
Help me now to give what You gave to me

Forgiveness
Forgiveness
Forgiveness
Forgiveness

Songwriters: Matthew West

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Say Goodbye to Yesterday

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2 Corinthians 5:17 — “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.”

There was always one.

One student always showed up to youth group and sat in the back. Hoodie up. Eyes down. Never sang. Never responded.

And I could not stop thinking about him.

We did not start Elevation Rhythm for big stages. We started in rooms like that—small, loud, and imperfect— with students like that who were not yet sure what they believed about God but still came.

We began by remixing worship songs, just trying to help them connect. Eventually, we started writing our own. Not to sound cool. Not to go viral. But because we knew not every kid listens to the same thing, and if God speaks every language, then maybe He could speak through every genre, too.

Our hope was that in all the noise of the world, they would hear one song that felt personal like God was saying, “This one is for you.”

During one of those writing days, it was just me, Gracie Binion, and Mitch Wong. We were talking through what God had done in our lives and how hard it can be to stop believing the lies about who we used to be.

Then Gracie said, almost in passing, “I think I finally said goodbye to who I used to be.”

And that was it. We knew our students needed to hear that.

That was the beginning of our song “Goodbye Yesterday.”

We already had the name of the album, Victory Lap, but the meaning sank in deeper that day.

A victory lap is what you take after the race is finished—Not to win but to celebrate what has already been won. That is what life in Jesus is. Freedom. Not striving.

And maybe today, you are the one sitting in the back, not literally but in your heart. You are still unsure if God sees you and still dragging around the shame of a life He already paid for.

If that is you, hear this: you do not have to be weighed down by a version of yourself Jesus already set free.

The cross is before you. The past does not have to define you because He has already won. So, say the words even in a whisper.

“Goodbye, yesterday.”

And the rest of your life? It is your Victory Lap.

— Josh Holiday

 

Lyrics:

Goodbye yesterday
I’m living in the light of a new day
I won’t waste another minute in my old ways
Praise the Lord I’ve been born again

Goodbye yesterday
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me
I’ve got resurrection in my veins
Praise the Lord, I’ve been born again

Again and again and again and again
You rescued me out of the mess I was in
Traded my sorrow for something to sing
I’m dancing on the grave that I once lived in

I have decided
To follow Jesus
The world behind
The cross before
I won’t turn back

Written by Joshua Holiday, Gracie Binion, Mitch Wong, Steven Furtick

GOODBYE YESTERDAY – LEARN MORE HERE

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When Fear Stands in the Way

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Psalms 56:3 — “When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.”

I stood at the edge of the woods that afternoon, just trying to catch my breath in the heat. I was standing in the shaded path near the ropes course at summer camp when I saw him.

A young boy—maybe seven—stood trembling on top of a telephone pole, tears dripping down his cheeks. His arms were rigid at his sides, and his knees shook beneath him.

This was the final challenge of the ropes course. They called it “The Leap of Faith.” The goal was simple: jump off the platform and reach for a nearby trapeze bar suspended in midair. But for this kid, it might as well have been the Grand Canyon.

From the ground, the belayer called up with gentle encouragement.

“You are safe, buddy. You are clipped in,” he said. “Those ropes are solid, but listen. You do not want to go back the way you came. Trust me. The safest way down is to jump.”

The boy stood frozen for what felt like forever. I wondered if he would try climbing down. Then, quietly, he bent his knees and jumped.

When he caught the bar, the grin that broke out across his face was unforgettable. All the fear was still hanging in the air, but now it was drowned out by something louder: joy.

That memory has stayed with me for years. Not because of the stunt, but because I have lived in that tension—wanting to turn back, doubting what I cannot see, standing on the edge of something that looks impossible.

But sometimes the only way forward is a leap. Not reckless. Not blind. But real, trusting faith grounded in the confidence that you are already held.

If you are standing on a ledge today, frozen with fear, listen closely. There is a Voice calling to you—not shouting, not rushing—but reminding you that, while the way forward might feel risky, you are not unprotected. You are never alone.

Friend, you may not see the harness, but that does not make it any less secure.

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Life After Letting Go

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Proverbs 3:5–6 “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths.”

If you had asked me a few years ago what surrender looked like, I probably would have given you a lyric or a sermon point. I might have even sung about it on stage. But life has a way of taking your songs and asking if you actually believe them.

We were in the middle of another packed tour—city after city, set list after set list. People were singing along. Ministry was happening. On the outside, everything looked like it was working. But on the inside, I was struggling to catch my breath.

I was missing dinners. Bedtime stories. The small in-between moments at home that no one claps for, but that matter more than anything. One night, sitting alone in a venue parking lot, I remember thinking—not in a dramatic way, but in a soul-deep way—What am I even doing?

I had given so much of myself to ministry, but somewhere along the way, I stopped asking if it was still what God wanted—or if I had just forgotten how to stop.

That night marked the beginning of surrender.

I sat with the guys in the band and said, “I think we need to step back from touring.”

It hurt to say. But it opened the door to healing. We took time off. We made space for our families. And in that space, the lyrics to our song “Control” came to me:

“Oh how You love me
Somehow that frees me
To open my hands up
And give You control
I give You control”

When we released it, we started receiving letters—people telling us about the things they were finally letting go of. Control of their children’s futures. Control of broken marriages. Control of their image. The #ControlCampaign became more than a hashtag. It became a shared sigh of relief.

And that is what I never saw coming: the rest. The clarity. The peace that comes when you stop reaching for everything and hand back to God what was His in the first place.

So if your heart feels overwhelmed and stretched thin, maybe the way forward is not to try harder. Maybe it is to trust deeper. Surrender is not failure. It is where freedom starts.

— Mike Donehey

 

Control (Somehow You Want Me)

Here I am, all my intentions
All my obsessions, I wanna lay them all down
In Your hands
Only Your love is vital
Though I’m not entitled
Still You call me Your child

God, You don’t need me, but somehow You want me
Oh, how You love me, somehow that frees me
To take my hands off of my life and the way it should go
Oh, God, You don’t need me, but somehow You want me
Oh, how You love me, somehow that frees me
To open my hands up and give You control
I give You control

I’ve had plans shattered and broken
Things I have hoped in, fall through my hands
You have plans to redeem and restore me
You’re behind and before me
Oh, help me believe

God, You don’t need me, but somehow You want me
Oh, how You love me, somehow that frees me
To take my hands off of my life and the way it should go
Oh, God, You don’t need me, but somehow You want me
Oh, how You love me, somehow that frees me
To open my hands up and give You control

You want me, somehow You want me
The King of Heaven wants me
So this world has lost its grip on me(Repeat)

God, You don’t need me, but somehow You want me
Oh, how You love me, somehow that frees me
To take my hands off of my life and the way it should go
Oh, God, You don’t need me, but somehow You want me
Oh, how You love me, somehow that frees me
To open my hands up and give You control
I give You control
You want me, somehow You want me
The King of Heaven wants me
So this world has lost its grip on me

(Written by: Mike Donehey, Jason Ingram, Matt Bronleewe)

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A Brotherhood of the Broken

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2 Corinthians 1:4 – “Who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”

You do not forget the day everything changes. For Daniel, it was the day he left the hospital without Lyndsie.

She had been his person—for ten years of cancer and ten years of marriage. She was the steady, gentle presence that held their home together. Now, it was just Daniel, two young children, and the kind of silence that clings to the walls.

At first, people came. They brought meals, sent gift cards, wrote notes, offered help. His community was generous and kind. But grief does not follow the timeline of casseroles and sympathy cards. And before long, the world moved on.

Daniel did not.

He tried to manage what he could. But what he really needed could not be delivered in a meal tray. He needed someone who understood. A young man who had walked this same stretch of road—who had buried the love of his life and somehow kept showing up for school pickups and bedtime prayers. Someone to say, “You are not alone. You are not crazy. You will make it.”

He searched for that man. He prayed for him. But no one came.

Eventually, Daniel made a quiet vow.

“God, if you ever bring another widower into my life, I will not let that man walk alone. I will be, for him, what I needed most.”

And then it started—slowly, quietly. First, one widower crossed his path. Then another. Then more. Each man carrying a version of the same story and battles.

That is when Daniel realized God had not ignored his prayer. He had been preparing him to answer it.

“Refuge Widowers” was born from that vow. It became a brotherhood of grieving fathers and broken husbands walking side by side, pointing one another to the only hope strong enough to carry their weight. Not answers. Not quick fixes. Just presence, courage, and faith that holds steady when life falls apart.

Today, you may not have walked the same road Daniel has. But chances are, you have survived something. Chances are, you know what it feels like to wait for someone to show up. And if you do, then hear this: your pain does not disqualify you. It may be the very thing God uses to reach someone else.

So, look around. Pay attention. There is likely someone within reach who needs what you once prayed for.

Be who you needed. Say yes to the hard road. Don’t wait for someone else to lead the way because your story might just be someone else’s lifeline.

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This Is Not God’s First Rodeo

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2 Corinthians 10:5 – “We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ.”

I was ten years old the first time I saw a trick rider up close, and I could hardly breathe for how bad I wanted to be her.

It was rodeo night in Winnsboro, Louisiana. The spotlight swept across the dirt as the music kicked up and the trick riders took the field. They twirled lassos, stood on galloping horses, flipped and flew like they were born in the saddle. Their hair trailed behind them like ribbons. The crowd roared, and I sat still, wide-eyed and smitten.

The minute we got home, I found a rope and made it my mission. I swung it over my head until my arms ached. I practiced spinning it on the ground and tried, again and again, to jump in and out like the woman in the spotlight.

I gave it hours. Days. I got rope burns, blisters, and more than one scolding for flinging it too close to the furniture.

My daddy loved rodeos too. If he was not on the tractor or the combine, we were on the road—to Monroe, Crossett, Jackson—anywhere a rodeo could be found. We never missed a chance, and every time the trick riders came out, I felt that spark light up again. I would go home, dust off my rope, and try one more time.

But I never did master that thing. Somewhere along the way, the dream started to dim. It got too hard, and it was not the rope that wore me out—it was the thoughts that crept in. You are not made for this. You will never get it right. I listened. And eventually, I let go.

So no, I never became a Trick Rider.

But years later, I found myself back in those same small towns. Only this time, I was pursuing a different kind of calling. God opened doors I never saw coming in southern media. I got to work with farmers and cowboys and stand in the very heart of the culture I once dreamed of performing in.

No, it was not what I pictured at ten years old, but it was good. More than good. It was full of purpose. Still, I wonder what might have happened if I had not let discouragement write the ending to that first dream. Could God have done even more if I had held on just a little longer?

So here is what I want to tell you: if there is a dream in your heart, do not hand it over to negativity. When your mind starts to wander—when those discouraging thoughts circle in close—fix your focus. Lasso the thought. Take it captive before it takes root and give it back to God

No, you do not need to be perfect. You just need to trust God.

He is not afraid of the size of your dream. And remember—He is not new to this. This is not His first rodeo.

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Where Broken Meets Beautiful

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Titus 3:5 — He saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to His own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit.

If I could go back and sit across from the younger me, I do not think I would try to fix her. I do not think she would have believed me, anyway. She was stubborn. Wounded. Tired. She was doing the best she could with what she had, and at the time, it was not much.

I was twenty-five when I lost my mom. I remember the hospital room, the chill of it, and the way time slowed in the hours before she passed. When she was gone, I walked out carrying this hollow kind of silence inside me. That grief stayed. It followed me everywhere I went.

And I wish I could say I handled that pain well. I did not. I ran from people who loved me. I tried to outrun the ache. And when I could not, I tried to bury it by numbing it.

A series of choices—and a thousand little escapes—turned into chains of drug and alcohol addiction. I was not proud of who I was becoming, but for a long time, I did not see a way out.

But if I could say just one thing to her—the girl who buried her mom and then buried herself not long after—it would be this: He is real.

God. He is not just a word people toss around when they do not know what else to say. He is not just a name in a book.

He is real. He is real in hospital rooms. He is real in addiction. And He is real enough to save you when you have gone over the edge.

I wish I could have wrapped that girl up and told her again and again until she believed it. But the truth is, I would not go back and undo anything. Not even the hardest parts because God did not waste a single moment. He used every scar, every mistake, every loss. All of it became part of a story I never expected—a story of grace.

And if that is where you are right now—if you are grieving, if you are stuck in something you don’t want to admit, if you think God is only for people who have it together—I want you to hear me clearly: You are not too far gone.

God is real. And He is not scared of your story. He steps right into the middle of it, and when He is through, what is left will not be shame.

It will be grace.

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He’s a Good Father

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Psalms 103:13 — As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear Him.

Pat Barrett had sung about God his whole life. But when his daughter was born, something in him shifted. As Harper Gray lay asleep, soft and small in his arms, Pat paused mid-prayer.

How am I going to explain God to her?

He had heard it all. God as judge. God as distant. God as angry. He had led worship at dozens of conferences where the message shifted depending on the speaker or the crowd. One week, God was gentle. The next, furious. Disappointed. Hard to please.

But now he was a father. When you’re raising a child, you do not have the luxury of vague beliefs anymore. You need to know who God is not just for your sake, but for theirs too.

In that season of wrestling, Pat sat with his guitar, heart heavy, and out came a lyric more like a sigh than a song.

“I’ve heard a thousand stories of what they think You’re like…”

Meanwhile, his friend Tony Brown had been leading worship in their Atlanta house church, singing a chorus that had been sitting with him for years:

“You’re a good, good Father…”

For Tony, who had grown up without a dad, those words carried deep personal meaning. God was not just a comfort. He was the only Father Tony had ever known.

The two met up, shared what they were wrestling with, and together they finished the song “Good Good Father” with no spotlight in mind.

The song caught on fast—first in their home church, then beyond. Word spread, and one day Chris Tomlin heard it. He called, asked to record it, and the song took on a life of its own. Churches around the world began singing the same simple truth.

But for Pat, the most important moment was still at home. It was hearing Harper Gray sing along. Because that is what he had wanted all along. He wanted his child to grow up with the right story. God is a good father.

Maybe that is what you need, too. Maybe the stories you were told about Him left you unsure, guarded, or aching. But the truth is still true.

God i s not just a good Father in theory. He is a good Father in practice. He is present, attentive, and steady, and He wants to be that to you and for you.

Would you let Him?

 

LYRICS

VERSE 1
I’ve heard a thousand stories of what they think You’re like
But I’ve heard the tender whisper of love in the dead of night
You tell me that You’re pleased and that I’m never alone

CHORUS
You’re a good, good father
It’s who You are, it’s who You are, it’s who You are
And I’m loved by you
It’s who I am, it’s who I am, it’s who I am

VERSE 2
I’ve seen many searching for answers far and wide
But I know we’re all searching for answers only you provide
‘Cause You know just what we need before we say a word

BRIDGE
You are perfect in all of your ways
You are perfect in all of your ways
You are perfect in all of your ways to us

VERSE 3
Love so undeniable I can hardly speak
Peace so unexplainable I can hardly think
As You call me deeper still
As You call me deeper still
As You call me deeper still
Into love love love

Written By Pat Barrett and Tony Brown

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Friendship That Brews Hope

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Ecclesiastes 4:9–10 – “Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow.”

I was already halfway to the coffee shop before I realized how heavy my chest felt. It was the kind of heaviness that builds slowly and steadily over time.

But today I had a lifeline. I had a standing coffee date with a friend who knew me—the real me. We always meet in the same spot, bring our kids, and talk for hours.

I parked, lifted Reese from the back seat, and turned to see my friend walking up with her baby in a carrier and a warm smile instantly softening something in me.

We ordered our lattes—mine, honey vanilla over ice—and by some small miracle, our couch was free. The babies wriggled across our laps and played on the rug below.

Between sips of coffee and the comfort of low music playing louder than our voices, I let it all pour out. I told her about the discouragement, the pressure, and my insecurities. And she just listened, really listened.

She didn’t try to fix it, but instead she opened up about her own battles and hard-won victories. She reminded me who God is and what His word said about my circumstances.

Then she asked if she could pray for me.

Tears came quicker than I expected, but I nodded. Of course. Yes. Please. And as she prayed, something loosened inside me. Peace settled in like cool water sinking deep into dry ground.

I stayed quiet for a moment after she prayed, just letting it settle.

Nothing outside had changed, but something inside had. My shoulders softened. The ache in my chest gave way to peace I had not felt in weeks. God was near, and I knew it.

That day, I remembered what I had forgotten: God never intended for us to walk through life alone. He gives us people who carry us to Him when we are too weary to crawl.

So, find those people. When you do, hold onto them because sometimes, the most powerful thing God gives us is not an answer. It’s a friend who prays.

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