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

Redirection Not Rejection

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Psalm 16:7 — I will bless the Lord who guides me; even at night my heart instructs me.

Rejection hurts, doesn’t it?

Yeah, you know, I had been applying for full-time jobs when I moved home to Louisiana. And I was standing in my kitchen one morning and heard my phone ping. When I checked it, I saw these nine words.

“We’re sorry, we’ve decided to move in another direction.”

Oh that stung. It was a job I knew I was qualified for and confident I could do well. But there I was staring at my phone like a door had just slammed in my face.

Rejection makes you question everything. Your timing, your worth. Was I really called to move back home?

But I sat down and breathed. I let myself feel the sting because pretending it doesn’t hurt doesn’t help. Somewhere between that breath and my second sip of coffee, I started to sense God quietly steadying my heart.”

Though man had rejected me, God was redirecting me with love.

Scripture doesn’t promise approval from every hiring committee or affirmation from every inbox. But it does promise guidance. The Lord gives counsel, and even in the quiet of the night, the heart can be instructed and steadied by Him.

I realized something important: the steps that felt like setbacks were still steps. And they’re still ordered by God. He has a hope and a future planned for me, and He knows what He is doing.

So if you’re holding one of those emails today, maybe take a breath before you delete it. Let the hurt be honest, but don’t let it write the ending. Remember that you’re not behind. You’re not forgotten. And you’re not walking alone.

Because closed doors don’t cancel your calling; they sometimes clarify it.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Have you experienced a recent rejection that left you questioning your direction or worth?
  • How do you typically respond when something doesn’t go the way you hoped?
  • Can you remember a time when a “closed door” actually led to something better?
  • What might it look like for you to trust that God is guiding you—even when the path doesn’t make sense?
  • How can you create space to listen for God’s quiet direction in your life this week?
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Dreams That Don’t Stay Quiet

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Psalm 37:4 — Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you your heart’s desires.

I’ve never been great with crowds.

Let me rephrase—I’ve never been great with all eyes on me. As a kid, that meant sweaty hands, red cheeks, and shaky knees. An open invitation to panic. From dance recitals, cheer tryouts, school plays, even stepping up to bat, each one brought out a paralyzing fear that I couldn’t escape.

Growing up didn’t magically fix that. If anything, I just became more aware of it. The difference was that I might forget what I said or did afterward, but my body still remembered the fear.

But deep down, I wanted to sing.

I wanted to encourage people with words. I wanted to lead. But I also knew I couldn’t do it in my own strength. Opportunities didn’t seem to come knocking anyway, so I placed those desires neatly on a shelf. Of course, like a pesky fly, they kept buzzing back.

But what God plants in your heart doesn’t disappear just because fear tells you to hide it.

Fast forward a few years—as my faith grew, so did my awareness of God’s prompts. I learned that when God nudges me toward something, the thought doesn’t knock once on my heart and then go away. It replays over and over until I listen.

The idea of being a part of our worship team at my church was one of those promptings that wouldn’t go away.

Then one Saturday night, while half-listening to a podcast, I heard the words: “Give back what God has poured into you.”

Convicting? Yes. Comfortable? Not at all.

So naturally, I turned the podcast off and played music instead. If we’re being honest, we’ve all dodged a nudge from God like that. It felt like making a sudden U-turn in the grocery store when seeing someone I know.

But the first song that played was about surrender. And the line that kept repeating? “It’s yours anyway.”

At that point, I looked up and said, “Okay God… if I’m supposed to be on the worship team, You’re going to have to put someone right in front of me to ask me.”

The next day, I was walking out church and the worship leader came to me and said, “A little birdie told me you can sing. Do you want to try out for the worship team?”

That moment felt like God smiling. Moments like these are a gentle reminder that He’s been paying attention the whole time. That heaven is closer than we think.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped focusing on what I was afraid of and started focusing on who God is—His goodness, His presence, His faithfulness. That’s what it means to delight in Him.

For a long time, I thought that meant God would eventually hand me what I wanted. But I’ve learned it’s deeper than that. When we delight ourselves in Him, He reshapes our desires to look like His—and then brings them to life.

The desire He planted in my heart as a little girl didn’t disappear. It was turning into worship. Now, I sing in front of a crowd on Sunday morning. I’ve spoken to rooms full of women and launched a podcast. Fear didn’t vanish, but it lost its authority. Confidence didn’t come from me. It came from the One who’s been inside me all along.

When you surrender what you love to God, He doesn’t take it away—He teaches you how to carry it with Him.

And maybe that thing stirring in your heart—the dream you tucked away because it felt too scary or too big—that’s not random either. Maybe it’s an invitation. Not to be fearless or to be perfect. But to delight in the Lord enough to trust Him with it as He shapes you.

Because in the end, God sized dreams come from Him in the first place.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Is there a desire or dream in your heart that you’ve been holding back because of fear?
  • What does it look like for you personally to “delight in the Lord” in your everyday life?
  • Have you ever experienced God reshaping your desires over time? What changed?
  • Where might God be nudging you right now—and how have you responded so far?
  • What would it look like to trust God with that desire instead of keeping it on the shelf?
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When Forgiveness Writes the Ending

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Colossians 3:13 — Make allowance for each other’s faults, and forgive anyone who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others.

The fall happens so fast.

One minute Forrest Frank is skateboarding with his son—laughing, being a dad—and the next he’s on the ground, staring at the sky, realizing something is really wrong.

His L3 and L4 vertebrae are fractured. It’s the kind of injury that stops everything.

Back home, laid up in bed, his body is broken—but his mind won’t slow down. So he does what he’s always done. He sings. There he wrote songs about what he knew to be true. Songs about how “God’s got my back” and about Jesus turning his problems into lemonade.

He shares his journey on Instagram. Within days, Forrest’s back is miraculously healed. Around the same time, he posts another song to encourage David Crowder, who is recovering from a broken leg.

But the internet does what the internet does.

Parody videos start popping up—some playful, some careless. One comes from Cory Asbury. Though meant to be funny, it hits hard. Forrest and his wife remember the fear and pain of that day, and suddenly it feels like one of his worst moments is being reduced to a punchline.

Then Forrest does the bravest thing he knows to do. He posts online honestly. He admits the humor hurts. He knows no harm was meant—but it still hurt.

He doesn’t stop there. Instead of clapping back, he extends the olive branch by writing Cory a song. He posts it and invites Cory to help him finish it.

Cory sees it and takes the parody down immediately. He reaches out to Forrest and apologizes over the phone. He admits he didn’t stop to put himself in Forrest’s shoes, and what happens next is amazing.

What could’ve stayed awkward turns creative. Out of that conversation, the two artist collaborate to finish the song shaped out of forgiveness.

Forrest chose to forgive Cory fully, and there’s something so powerful about that. To admit your grievances and to do the hard work of forgiveness just like Jesus. It isn’t the way of the world. It isn’t trendy. But it is Kingdom. It is what breaks down barriers and turns enemies into friends.

So let’s choose the Jesus-way of forgiveness. Even when it’s hard, bear with one another and forgive as freely as you have been forgiven—letting grace guide your steps. Refusing to let a grievance define the relationship.

Because unforgiveness doesn’t get to tell your story. So refuse to let it write the ending.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Is there someone in your life who has hurt you—even unintentionally—that you’re struggling to forgive?
  • What makes it difficult for you to “make allowance” for others’ faults instead of holding onto the offense?
  • How does remembering the way God has forgiven you change your perspective on forgiving someone else?
  • Have you ever seen a relationship restored after honesty and forgiveness? What did that teach you?
  • What would it look like for you to take one step toward forgiveness this week—whether that’s releasing it in your heart or reaching out?

L Y R I C S  for  M I S U N D E R S T O O D

One, two, three

Sometimes words
Hit you in the chest
Sting you like a bee
And rob you of your rest
And Heaven knows sometimes
People try to mean well
But trauma from their past
Got ’em stuck inside of Hell

Well, it’s okay if you feel misunderstood
There’s a Man who did as well when they nailed Him to wood
And even through all the pain
Still, He forgave them, mm
So I can forgive somebody too (Mm)

Sometimes words (Sometimes words)
Can cut so deep (Cut so deep)
It’s hard to be kind
When anger’s all you’ve seen
The shadow of home can
Stretch long through the years
It covers up the sunshine
Even when the sky is clear

‘Cause it’s okay if you feel misunderstood
There’s a Man who did as well when they nailed Him to wood
And even through all the pain
Still, He forgave them
So I can forgive somebody too (Yeah)
I can forgive somebody too (Come on)

Well, sometimes two friends are just one call away
Years full of hurt could be gone in a day
We’re all part of one family
So, who am I to cut down the tree?

‘Cause it’s okay if you feel misunderstood
There’s a Man who did as well when they nailed Him to wood
And even through all the pain
Still, He forgave them
So I can forgive somebody too
I can forgive somebody too (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
I can forgive somebody too

‘Cause the good Lord first forgave me and you
Ooh

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Joy on the Court Again

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1 John 5:14-15 — And this is the confidence that we have toward Him, that if we ask anything according to His will He hears us. And if we know that He hears us in whatever we ask, we know that we have the requests that we have asked of Him.

I couldn’t stop smiling over the phone when I heard my dad. He sounded happy—really happy. And at the end he said, “Alright, I’ve gotta go. I’m about to play pickleball.”

Like what? Pickleball. My dad is 70 years old.

Now he’s always been in great shape. He’s 6’3, athletic, and you would think he was probably 45. But him going to play pickleball just made me smile even more.

I laughed and asked who he was playing with. He said people his age. And some younger guys too. He sounded excited. It meant so much to me to hear this. It wasn’t just that my dad had found something fun to do. It was that this happiness—had been missing for a while.

My mom passed away seven years ago. And ever since, I’ve carried this prayer for my dad.

Lord, send him friends. Send him joy again. Send him something to look forward to. I just wanted to hear him laugh again like this. And I kept coming back to this confidence when I prayed—that when I ask according to God’s will, God hears me, and He’s already working, even when I can’t see it yet. Now through pickleball, of all things, I’m seeing just how faithful God truly is.

It felt like God gently tapping my heart, saying, I heard you.

So today I’m choosing to notice the ways He has answered my prayers. To thank God for the phone calls, the laughter, the friends, and yes—even for my dad pickle-balling it up.

Take time to notice those pickleball-shaped moments in your own life today. The laughter bouncing like a ball. The friendships that surprise you. The small, fresh joys tucked in the ordinary. That is the echo of God’s faithfulness—and it’s amazing.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Is there a prayer you’ve been carrying for a long time that you haven’t seen answered yet?
  • How does knowing that God hears you (even when you don’t see immediate results) change the way you pray?
  • Can you identify a “pickleball moment” in your life—something small that now feels like a quiet answer to prayer?
  • What does it look like for you to trust God’s will, even when the answer doesn’t come the way you expected?
  • How can you practice noticing and thanking God for the ways He is already at work around you?
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Prayers That Won’t Let Go

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Romans 12:12 — Rejoice in our confident hope. Be patient in trouble, and keep on praying.

I know what it’s like to hit rock bottom and feel like nothing—not even prayer—could reach you there.

I’m seventeen years clean from drug addiction, and I don’t say that lightly. I know I didn’t get here on my own. I know someone was praying for me when I couldn’t pray for myself. I know there were people who wore out their carpet, crying out to God, even when I looked like a lost cause.

That’s why Raymond’s story stays with me.

Raymond is a dad. Just a regular father who loved his son and watched his son’s addiction take more than it ever gave. For over a decade, he prayed. Not polished prayers. Real ones. The kind whispered in bedrooms and spoken at kitchen tables late at night. There were relapses. Heartbreak. Long stretches of silence when the phone didn’t ring and hope felt impossible.

But Raymond made some decisions. He never stopped loving his son. He chose to be joyful in hope when there wasn’t much evidence for it, patient in affliction when the pain dragged on, and faithful in prayer when quitting would have been easier.

Years passed. Slowly. Quietly. And then something shifted. His son got sober. Not for a month. Not for a year. Five years. And it didn’t stop there. He began mentoring others walking the same road he once stumbled down.

That’s when Raymond said something I love. “God restoring my son in His timing, not mine.”

When I hear that, something just clicks. God’s timing may feel slow, but it is never careless. It helps me realize the prayers that helped save my life probably sounded a lot like Raymond’s. Faithful. Tired. But full of hope anyway.

It doesn’t rush the process. It anchors you while you wait.

“Prayer doesn’t always change things right away—but it keeps us anchored long enough to see what God is doing.”

If you’re praying for someone and it feels like nothing is happening, you’re not wasting your breath. You’re standing in the gap. You’re loving them in a way that reaches farther than you can see.

Faithful prayer plants seeds that grow on God’s timeline, not ours. So keep praying. Keep loving. Keep hoping. Even when nothing is happening. Even when it hurts.

God hears every prayer—and He is still working, even now.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Is there someone in your life you’ve been praying for, even when it feels like nothing is changing?
  • What emotions come up when you think about waiting on God’s timing instead of your own?
  • In what ways have you seen prayer sustain you—even if the situation hasn’t changed yet?
  • How does the encouragement in Epistle to the Romans 12:12 challenge or strengthen your perspective on hope, patience, and prayer?
  • What would it look like for you to keep showing up in prayer this week with renewed faith and trust?
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Slow Down to See God

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Psalm 46:10 — Be still, and know that I am God! I will be honored by every nation. I will be honored throughout the world.

The house wasn’t awake yet when I heard footsteps and stirring from the living room.

Drawers opening. Cabinets closing.

What in the world?

I walked out to find my husband already dressed, frantically flipping cushions and retracing his steps. He had lost his keys. He needed to get to work, and now he was on the phone with his dad, asking him to bring over a spare set.

He was officially out of options.

That’s when I saw them.

Hanging neatly on the hook.

The same hook where we always put them.

I stood there for a moment and grinned. Then I picked them up and held them out.

He paused, looked… and smiled too.

All that effort. All that worrying.

And what he needed had been in plain sight the whole time.

If I’m honest, I’ve lived that out more times than I’d like to admit—and I have a feeling you have too.

I rush. I panic. I search everywhere for peace. I listen to people, podcasts, and sermons, hoping something will finally settle my heart.

But what I need isn’t out there somewhere.

It’s right here.

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

Not scramble.
Not strive.
Be still.

Stillness isn’t weakness—it’s trust. It’s the quiet confidence that God isn’t withholding what we need.

Life is loud. Mornings are rushed. Decisions feel heavy.

But clarity often comes when we stop long enough to notice what’s already true:

God is still God.

He is present.
He is steady.
He is enough.

So today, take a moment to breathe.

Slow down on purpose. Even if it’s just for a minute.

Because God is not absent in your stress.

And more often than we realize, what we’re searching for… has been right in front of us all along.

Found in Him.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When life feels stressful or overwhelming, what is your first instinct—do you pause, or do you scramble to fix things?
  • Can you think of a recent moment where what you needed was already present, but you overlooked it?
  • What makes it difficult for you to “be still” before God?
  • How does remembering that “God is still God” change the way you approach your current situation?
  • What is one practical way you can create space for stillness in your day today?
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The Hardest Person to Forgive

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Ephesians 1:7 — In Him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace 

Forgiveness.

Is it harder to forgive others… or yourself?

Especially when you’ve done something you can’t seem to justify—something that doesn’t match who you thought you were.

I’ve always seen myself as a good friend. Loyal. The kind of person who shows up with a casserole and stays late to help clean up.

Not a backstabber.

But if I’m honest, there’s a moment in my life that didn’t look like that at all.

It started with a job posting.

It was a great opportunity—good pay, solid position. But I wasn’t even that interested… until a friend told me she wanted it. And suddenly, I did too.

Human nature is tricky like that.

So I applied. And I didn’t tell her.

People do this all the time, I told myself. We’re both qualified. No harm in trying.

But the moment I got the interview call, something shifted.

My stomach dropped.

What kind of friend am I?

Deep down, I knew—I would probably get the job.

So I turned it down.

I told the employer they didn’t need me. They needed her.

And they hired her.

Praise God.

But even after that, the guilt stuck around.

So I went to my friend and told her everything. She was hurt—and rightfully so. But I owned it. I asked for forgiveness.

And over time, she gave it.

The harder part came later.

Forgiving myself.

What I had to come to terms with was this: I had already repented. And because of that, Christ had already extended mercy.

In Him, I already had redemption.

My debt was paid in full. My sin forgiven—not because I earned it, but because His grace is rich.

Not thin. Not hesitant. Not running out.

Rich.

And forgiving myself didn’t mean pretending it never happened.

It meant agreeing with God that it’s already been covered.

I’ll mess up again. I know that now.

But I also know this:

I don’t have to carry my failures longer than God does.

So I’m done rehearsing the guilt.

I’m going to keep showing up—with the casserole.

Maybe there’s something you’re still holding against yourself.

Something you’ve already confessed. Something God has already forgiven.

You don’t have to excuse it. You don’t have to erase it.

But you can set it down.

Because grace has already covered it.

And sometimes, the last person who needs to forgive you…

is you.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Is it harder for you to forgive others or yourself? Why?
  • What’s something you may still be holding against yourself that God has already forgiven?
  • What does it mean to you that God’s grace is “rich” and not limited?
  • How can you begin to agree with God instead of your guilt?
  • What would it look like to “set it down” this week?
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Laughing Pride Away

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Psalm 68:3 — But let the godly rejoice. Let them be glad in God’s presence. Let them be filled with joy.

I have an issue with pride.

Do you?

I’ll admit it. Because Scripture says when we confess our sins, healing begins—so maybe this is a good place to start.

Earlier today, I made a mistake. And someone brought it to my attention.

In moments like that, I can feel it instantly—my insides tighten. My mind starts replaying everything. And there’s that familiar temptation: either beat myself up or get defensive to protect my ego.

This time, I felt it rising…

…but I chose something different.

Instead of shutting down or pushing back, I acknowledged it. I had messed up. And honestly? It was kind of funny.

So I laughed.

And that’s when it hit me:

Pride feeds on pressure.
Joy loosens it.

Laughter and humility can shift the whole atmosphere of a moment that pride wants to control.

Pride makes me focus on how I look.
Joy reminds me who holds me.

So right there—in the middle of getting it wrong—I chose joy.

I chose to be glad in God’s presence instead of stuck in my pride. And something changed.

When God is my source, I don’t have to scramble for approval. I don’t have to defend every misstep. I don’t have to prove I’ve got it all together.

I didn’t walk away from that moment perfect.

But I walked away lighter.

Stronger, even—not because I avoided the mistake, but because I didn’t let pride define it.

Psalm 68 reminds us to rejoice, to be glad, to be filled with joy in God’s presence.

And sometimes that looks like choosing humility… and even learning to laugh at yourself along the way.

So when pride shows up—and it will—don’t let it harden you.

Invite joy in.

Stay humble. Stay open.

Because what you choose to feed is what will grow.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • How do you usually respond when someone points out a mistake you’ve made?
  • Why do you think pride can feel so quick to rise in those moments?
  • What does it look like to “rejoice” even when you’ve gotten something wrong?
  • How can joy help you respond with humility instead of defensiveness?
  • What is one situation this week where you can choose joy over pride?
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Provision in Plain Sight

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John 6:35 — Jesus replied, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry again. Whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

The lunch hour rolled around, and my stomach was rumbling.

So I reached into my work bag with full confidence that something—anything—would be in there. I found papers. Lip balm. A charger. Receipts I definitely didn’t need.

But no food.

I dug deeper.

Still nothing.

I was sure I had packed something that morning, and realizing I didn’t was frustrating. Hours passed, and the hunger stayed with me. I kept replaying it in my head. I knew I had checked that bag before leaving the house.

And yet, here I was—hungry, annoyed, and confused about how I missed something so basic.

After work, with no energy left and no real reason to keep looking, I casually glanced into that same bag.

And there it was.

A bag of chips.

Sitting right on top.

I actually laughed out loud.

“Are you kidding me?” I said. “I had what I needed with me the whole time.”

Later that day, God gently used that moment to remind me of something deeper.

The problem wasn’t provision—it was perception.

How often do we search everywhere trying to fill the deeper hunger in our hearts? We dig through achievements, distractions, approval, or control—hoping something will satisfy.

But Jesus offers something better.

He calls Himself the Bread of Life—the One who truly satisfies. The One who meets the deepest hunger and thirst of our souls.

What we’re craving can’t be found by searching harder. It’s found by coming to Him.

Everything we need—His presence, His peace, His strength—has already been given to us in Christ.

Sometimes we’re just too busy searching to notice.

So this week, slow down long enough to see what God has already placed in front of you. The grace you carry. The strength you’ve been given. The quiet ways He is already caring for you.

Because real satisfaction isn’t hiding somewhere out of reach.

It’s found in the One who has been with you all along.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When have you searched for something only to realize it was already right in front of you?
  • What “hungers” do you sometimes try to satisfy with things other than God?
  • What does it mean to you that Jesus calls Himself the Bread of Life?
  • Where have you seen God already providing for you in ways you might overlook?
  • How can you intentionally turn to Christ this week when you feel spiritually empty?
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When Worship Found Its Heart

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Romans 12:1-2 — And so, dear brothers and sisters, I plead with you to give your bodies to God because of all he has done for you. Let them be a living and holy sacrifice—the kind he will find acceptable. This is truly the way to worship him. Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect. 

The band didn’t play that morning.

It was the late 1990s and the church was full. Matt Redman stood off to the side of the stage without his guitar. The lights were on, but the sound system was silent.

His pastor, Mike Pilavachi, had made the call.

The church had become increasingly focused on excellence—production, sound, atmosphere. None of those things were wrong. But something underneath it all had started to thin out.

So he stripped it away.

No instruments.
No band.
Just voices.

He told the congregation they needed to remove everything and check where their hearts really were.

So they did.

Week after week, the room stayed bare. There were no crescendos. No polished sound. Just human voices—thin, imperfect, and honest.

And in that quiet space, the words of Scripture felt closer than ever: offer your bodies as a living sacrifice to God. That is your true act of worship.

Not the set list.
The heart.

Not the atmosphere.
The offering.

Without the music, the question became unavoidable: What is worship when all the extras disappear?

Only a life offered to God.

During that season, Matt Redman picked up his guitar at home and wrote words that would circle the world:

“When the music fades
All is stripped away
And I simply come…
I’m coming back to the heart of worship
And it’s all about You, it’s all about You, Jesus.”

It wasn’t written for charts. It was written from conviction.

Because worship was never meant to be just a moment on Sunday. It’s a life—offered daily to the One who gave it.

That’s what Romans invites us to do: not just sing songs to God, but offer ourselves to Him.

So today, lay down whatever has become performance. Let go of what only looks spiritual. Bring God what’s real.

Because when the music fades, what matters most is not the song that filled the room…

…but the life that found the altar.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When do you find it easiest to focus on the “experience” of worship instead of the heart behind it?
  • What does it mean to you to offer your life as a “living sacrifice” to God?
  • How might your daily choices reflect worship beyond a Sunday service?
  • Is there anything in your life that has become more about appearance than surrender?
  • What is one practical way you can offer yourself to God today?

Lyrics:

When the music fades
All is stripped away
And I simply come

Longin’ just to bring
Something that’s of worth
That will bless your heart

I’ll bring You more than a song
For a song in itself
Is not what You have required

You search much deeper within
Through the ways things appear
You’re looking into my heart

I’m comin’ back to the heart of worship
And it’s all about You
It’s all about You, Jesus

I’m sorry Lord for the thing I’ve made it
When it’s all about You
It’s all about You, Jesus

The King of endless worth
No one could express
How much You deserve? Lord

Though I’m weak and poor
All I have is Yours
Every single breath

I’ll bring You more than a song
For a song in itself
Is not what You have required

You search much deeper
You search much deeper within
Through the way things appear
You’re looking into my heart

I’m comin’ back to the heart of worship
And it’s all about You
It’s all about You, Jesus

I’m sorry Lord for the thing I’ve made it
When it’s all about You
It’s all about You, Jesus

I’m comin’ back to the heart of worship
And it’s all about You
It’s all about You, Jesus

I’m sorry Lord for the thing I’ve made it
When it’s all about You
It’s all about You, Jesus, yeah
It’s all about You

Every song we sing
Every breath we breathe, Jesus
It’s all about You
It’s all about You, Lord

I’m comin’ back to the heart of worship
And it’s all about You
Since it’s all about You, Jesus

I’m sorry Lord for the thing I’ve made it
When it’s all about You
It’s all about You, Jesus

Sing to say, it’s all about You
Every melody every heartbeat
Every breath we breathe
It’s all about You

There’s no one
It’s all about You
It’s all about You
It’s all about You
Yeah we know that

You will not share Your glory with another
Oh, You shall not share Your glory with another
Jesus, You will not share Your glory with another
Oh, You shall not share Your glory with another

You will not share Your glory with another, Jesus
Oh, You shall not share Your glory with another
There’s no other

You will not share Your glory with another
Oh, You shall not share Your glory with another
There’s no other

There’s no like you in the Heavens and the Earth

/by