Finding Joy in Life’s Unexpected Gifts

,

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.

When I heard the news that we were expecting our third daughter… I nearly passed out.

There is no poetic way to say it. I was stunned. We were not trying. We were not planning. We were not even vaguely thinking about starting over. We already had two beautiful daughters, Ashlyn and Madison. Our world was full, and honestly, we were just starting to find a rhythm again. Nights were quiet, diapers were a memory, and the laundry pile was almost manageable.

So, yes. Shock. Real, physical, sit-down-before-you-fall-over shock.

But over the next few days, something in me softened. The disbelief did not disappear, but it made room for a different kind of feeling.

I started remembering all the small, sacred things from when our girls were babies. The slow sway of rocking them to sleep. The weight of their tiny heads tucked under my chin. The feeling that the rest of the world could wait—because in that moment, I was their whole world. Those memories came back like old songs I had not heard in a while, and they settled in my chest with a warmth I had not expected.

And now? Now I find myself getting excited. Truly, tenderly, deeply excited.

Fittingly, this baby is due to arrive at Christmas. And the timing does not feel random. It feels… personal. Intentional. Like something only God could orchestrate.

It has made me think a lot about Joseph. The one from Scripture. The carpenter. The man who had plans of his own—plans that were disrupted overnight by news he could not have seen coming. I imagine he asked a lot of the same questions I have asked.

How do I love this child well? Will I have what it takes to provide for this family? What kind of man do I need to become for this child?

Joseph did not get all the answers upfront. But he trusted. He obeyed. He stood by Mary, and he raised a child that changed the world.

And that part—that quiet, steady willingness to lean into the unexpected—that is what gets me.

Because here is what I am learning: some of God’s greatest gifts do not come wrapped in the timing we expect. They show up unannounced, inconvenient, and completely out of sync with our plans.

But that does not make them any less beautiful.

This surprise has reminded me that God’s fingerprints are often clearest on the things we never saw coming. And if I had stayed locked in my fear, I might have missed the joy buried inside this unexpected gift.

It reminds me so much of what scripture says in Proverbs 5, “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.”

So, if your life just took a turn you did not plan for—if you are staring down something that makes your knees weak—do not rush to fix it. Do not run from it. Lean in. Let it sit with you long enough for the joy to rise.

You never know what goodness God has tucked inside the surprise.

— Chris Tomlin

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What unexpected turn has God allowed in your life that you’re still trying to understand?
  • Where are you tempted to lean on your own understanding instead of trusting God fully?
  • How has God shown His faithfulness to you in past situations you didn’t plan for?
  • What might it look like to acknowledge God in this current season—even without clarity?
  • Is there a hidden joy or gift you might discover if you released fear and leaned into trust?
/by

Learning to Welcome Jesus

, ,

Revelation 3:20 — Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.

My dad surrendered his life to Jesus when I was about seven, and everything changed in our house. He started taking us to church and singing in the choir. One of my biggest memories of his singing was Christmas — because he was always in the church Christmas musical.

As much as I loved hearing my dad, my favorite singer was Mr. Roy Reynolds, the church bass. When he sang, he would curl his lower lip and rumble out these deep notes you could feel in your chest. As a kid, he was my favorite to watch because of all the funny faces he made.

Every Christmas, Mr. Roy played the innkeeper — which was huge to me — because he sang a solo called “No Room.”

Our musical had one of the deacons and a sweet lady from church dressed as Joseph and Mary — bathrobes, cloths over their heads, and a baby doll in their arms. They would walk from door to door on the set, knocking, hoping someone had space for them.

Then they’d reach the inn. Mr. Roy would step out, chest high and voice booming with joy because he knew his one line was coming:

“NO ROOM!”

As a kid, I thought the innkeeper was the villain. I imagined him wearing a black hat like in old westerns — the man who turned away Jesus. Jesus came to save the world, and this guy put Him in a barn.

It made all of us feel better about ourselves. We’d never turn away Jesus… right?

But years later, after I’d grown in faith, I realized the innkeeper wasn’t a bad guy. He was just… a guy. Busy. Overwhelmed. Trying to handle life. And when the holy moment knocked on his door, he didn’t recognize it for what it was.

I told a pastor this story once. He smiled and said, “You know… the innkeeper gave Him a place. He just didn’t give Him the place.”

And suddenly Revelation 3:20 took on a whole new meaning: “Behold, I stand at the door and knock…”

The innkeeper didn’t reject Jesus with malice. He just didn’t make room for Him. He offered something — but not his best.

And if I’m honest, I see myself in him more than I’d like to admit.

This Christmas, as the calendar fills and the urgency of life crowds in… how willing am I to stop and make room for Jesus? Not just a place — but the place?

— Mark Hall, CASTING CROWNS

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  1. Where in your life do you feel “crowded” — emotionally, mentally, or spiritually — making it harder to slow down and notice Jesus knocking?
  2. What would it look like to give Jesus not just a place in your day, but the place?
  3. Think of a time when you almost missed something meaningful because you were busy. How might that relate to letting Jesus in more fully this season?
  4. Are there habits, distractions, or pressures that are keeping you from opening the door more widely to Him?
  5. How might you intentionally create space for Jesus — in your home, your schedule, your relationships — as you move through the Christmas season?
/by

Listen to the Bells of Hope

, ,

Psalms 31:7-8 — I will be glad and rejoice in your unfailing love, for you have seen my troubles, and you care about the anguish of my soul. You have not handed me over to my enemies but have set me in a safe place.

The fire consumed everything. His wife’s screams still haunted Henry’s mind. That was two years ago, but grief has no calendar. Sitting in his study on Christmas morning, Henry’s world still felt like ash.

War raged across the nation, and his eldest son, Charles, was recovering from a near-fatal bullet wound. The bells outside chimed peace on earth, goodwill to men, but they only deepened his bitterness. How could those words ring true in a world like this?

Yet the bells refused to stop. They tolled relentlessly, refusing to be ignored. Listening, he felt it—a faint, rebellious hope.

That morning, he took up a pen—not because he had answers, but because he had to confront the questions. As he wrote, the words to the now famous carol “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Morning” came slowly, painfully:

“Then rang the bells more loud and deep:

‘God is not dead, nor doth He sleep.’”

This Christmastime, may those same bells find you too. When grief feels endless and joy feels far away, listen. Hope has a sound—it’s faint at first, but it grows stronger the longer you lean in.

The psalmist once wrote, “I will be glad and rejoice in Your unfailing love, for You have seen my troubles, and You care about the anguish of my soul.”

Maybe that’s what Henry heard that morning—the reminder that God had seen it all. And maybe this Christmas, it’s time for us to believe it again. To let hope keep ringing, not because the pain has ended, but because it hasn’t taken us under.

Because even now, hope will not let us go.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • How can you recognize God’s care in moments of grief or hardship?
  • In what ways can hope grow even when circumstances feel overwhelming?
  • How might you share encouragement with someone facing a difficult season, inspired by Henry’s story?

Heard The Bells On Christmas

I heard the bells on Christmas day
Their old familiar carols play
And mild and sweet their songs repeat
Of peace on Earth, good will to men

And the bells are ringing (peace on Earth)
Like a choir they’re singing (peace on Earth)
In my heart I hear them (peace on Earth)
Peace on Earth, good will to men

And in despair I bowed my head
“There is no peace on Earth, ” I said
For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on Earth, good will to men

But the bells are ringing (peace on Earth)
Like a choir singing (peace on Earth)
Does anybody hear them? (Peace on Earth)
Peace on Earth, good will to men

Then rang the bells more loud and deep
God is not dead, nor doth He sleep
(Peace on Earth)
(Peace on Earth)
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail
With peace on Earth, good will to men

Then ringing, singing on its way
The world revolved from night to day
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime
Of peace on Earth, good will to men

And the bells, they’re ringing (peace on Earth)
Like a choir they’re singing (peace on Earth)
And with our hearts, we’ll hear them (peace on Earth)
Peace on Earth, good will to men

Do you hear the bells, they’re ringing? (Peace on Earth)
The light, the angels singing (peace on Earth)
Open up your heart and hear them (peace on Earth)
Peace on Earth, good will to men

Peace on Earth
Peace on Earth
Peace on Earth, good will to men

 

TRADITIONAL VERSION:

/by

The Power of a Hallelujah

, ,

Psalm 31:21 — Praise the Lord, for he has shown me the wonders of his unfailing love. He kept me safe when my city was under attack.

The beeping was the first sound Joel heard every morning. Beep. Beep. Beep. Each one a cruel reminder that his little boy, Jaxon, was still fighting for his life. Tubes, wires, blinking lights. These are the kind of things that make a father feel helplessly small.

The doctors called it “hemolytic uremic syndrome” (HUS) which is an illness that can lead to seizures and kidney failure.

Somewhere, a nurse whispered into her radio. Monitors flickered. But Joel Taylor barely noticed. The doctors had run out of answers, and Joel and his wife had run out of prayers that made sense. They prayed bold ones, desperate ones, and quiet ones whispered at three in the morning.

Still, the sickness held on.

Back home, their friends from Bethel Church got the call. Jonathan and Melissa Helser didn’t know what to say, so they did what musicians often do when words fall short.

They worshipped.

Jonathan sat at his piano, hands trembling, heart sinking, and sang a melody he hadn’t planned to write. It came out like a battle cry against despair:

“I raise a hallelujah in the presence of my enemies.”

He sent the recording to Joel, who clung to it like oxygen. Joel played it again and again at Jaxon’s bedside, letting the melody fill the sterile air.

And slowly, against every medical prediction, Jaxon began to heal. By January, the Taylors brought their little boy home again.

Today, that same spontaneous song is sung by millions around the world, but to the Taylors, it will always be Jaxon’s song.

And that’s what “Raise a Hallelujah” really is. Not a chart-topper. Not a miracle formula. Just a defiant act of trust from a father who choose to believe that heaven was listening.

The psalmist once wrote, “Blessed be the Lord, for He has shown His steadfast love to me when I was in a besieged city.” That verse tells the truth of Joel’s story. In that hospital room, surrounded by machines, fear, and exhaustion, God’s love broke through.

So, when your own night feels long, and you’re not sure what tomorrow holds, do what Joel did. Turn your fear into a hallelujah.

Because sometimes, the truest act of faith isn’t what you say after the storm. It’s the song you dare to sing while it’s still raging.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • How have you experienced God’s steadfast love during a season of fear or uncertainty?
  • What “hallelujah” could you lift in the middle of your current storm?
  • In what ways can you trust God even when the outcome seems impossible?

Lyrics:

Verse 1
I raise a hallelujah, in the presence of my enemies
I raise a hallelujah, louder than the unbelief
I raise a hallelujah, my weapon is a melody
I raise a hallelujah, Heaven comes to fight for me

Chorus
I’m gonna sing, in the middle of the storm
Louder and louder, you’re gonna hear my praises roar
Up from the ashes, hope will arise
Death is defeated, the King is alive

Verse 2
I raise a hallelujah, with everything inside of me
I raise a hallelujah, I will watch the darkness flee
I raise a hallelujah, in the middle of the mystery
I raise a hallelujah, fear you lost your hold on me

Bridge
Sing a little louder
In the presence of my enemies
Sing a little louder
Louder than the unbelief
Sing a little louder
My weapon is a melody
Sing a little louder
Heaven comes to fight for me

Tag
I raise a hallelujah

Written by:
Jonathan David Helser | Melissa Helser | Molly Skaggs | Jake Stevens

/by

Transforming Heartbreak Into Worship

, ,

Psalm 34:1 — I will praise the Lord at all times. I will constantly speak his praises.

The studio was quiet that morning. It was not the peaceful kind of quiet. This was the heavy kind that hangs in the air when no one quite knows what to say. Tasha Layton sat with her co-writers, the weight of yesterday still settling in.

Their friend Jonathan had just been diagnosed with cancer. The shock had not yet worn off.

She stared at the blank page before her, praying words would come. Music had always been a way she talked to God, but this time, she did not know where to begin.

The ache was too real, the hope too fragile. Someone suggested they just write from where they were—from the hurt, the hope, the uncertainty.

So they began. Slowly at first. A few chords. A few tears. The song that formed was not a declaration of victory but a cry of surrender. “We were holding the weight of grief,” she later said, “but still believing in a miracle-working God.”

When they finished, they sent the song to Jonathan. He listened from his hospital bed, and though his body weakened in the months that followed, his faith remained strong.

In the end, the miracle came—but not the one they had expected. Jonathan’s healing did not happen on this side of heaven.

Yet somehow, the song did not lose its purpose.

It deepened. It became less about outcomes and more about presence. It was less about God’s many miracles, and more about who He is. For Tasha, it became an anthem for those who stand in the middle of pain and still lift their hands anyway.

She often thinks of the words from Psalm 34:1, “I will bless the Lord at all times.” They remind her that worship is not reserved for the mountaintop moments but for every season, even the ones that break your heart.

Now, when she sings “Worship Through It,” it is not a performance—it is a prayer. A reminder that real faith often sounds like gratitude whispered through tears. And perhaps the truest kind of transformation is found there—in the valley, where thankfulness still rises.

This Thanksgiving, maybe that is where we begin too. Not by waiting for everything to be right, but by choosing to bless the Lord right where we are—and letting that gratitude change us from within.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When has worship felt the hardest for you, and how did God meet you in that moment?
  • What does it mean to “bless the Lord at all times,” even in seasons of loss or uncertainty?
  • How can gratitude and praise become an act of surrender when you don’t understand what God is doing?
  • Think of someone you know who is walking through pain—how could your encouragement help them “worship through it”?
  • What might change in your heart if you chose to worship through the struggle instead of waiting until it’s over?

L Y R I C S

This looks impossible
But You’re the God of impossible
And I’ve seen your faithfulness all over my life
I need a miracle
And You’re the God of miracles
Some way, somehow You come through every time

Chorus
I know my God can do it
So, I’m gonna worship through it
Before I see my breakthrough
I’m gonna choose to praise You

I will sing hallelujah to the one
Who can do what the world says can’t be done
I know my God can do it
So, I’m gonna worship through it

In the middle of my no way out
In the middle of my don’t know how
I hear You whisper to me “peace be still”
This is why I believe
You will deliver me
You always have and you always will
You always have and you always will

I won’t wait ‘til the rocks cry out
I’m gonna praise You
I won’t wait till the walls come down
I’m gonna praise You
(Gonna) Lift my hands right here, right now
I’m gonna praise You
Oh God I praise You!

Written by Tasha Layton, Keith Everette Smith, Matthew West, AJ Pruis

/by

Jesus Seen Through Us

, ,

Ephesians 5:1-2 — Imitate God, therefore, in everything you do, because you are His dear children. Live a life filled with love, following the example of Christ. He loved us and offered Himself as a sacrifice for us, a pleasing aroma to God.

I can still see her face.

She was a young girl from Venezuela—quiet, reserved, sitting among a crowd of American teenagers who barely noticed her.

She had come with a visiting missions team to help us prepare for a trip to her country. Later, I learned she didn’t even own proper clothes for the journey. Someone had to buy her something suitable to wear.

That Wednesday night, she slipped into our youth group meeting and took a seat in the back. Hands folded neatly in her lap. Eyes down.

No one greeted her. Not one person leaned over to ask her name. Conversations carried on like they always did—some girls whispered about what others were wearing, others laughed about their plans for Friday night.

And there she sat—still, quiet, listening. Then, when the music started, she watched as all those same girls who had ignored her moments before raised their hands high in worship.

It’s funny—Ephesians 5:1–2 tells us to “Imitate God, therefore, in everything you do, because you are His dear children. Live a life filled with love, following the example of Christ.” That night, I realized how easy it is to worship with our lips but forget to love with our actions.

Later, her team leader invited her to speak. She walked to the front, her steps soft but sure, and began to pray in Spanish. Her voice trembled—not with fear, but with reverence. Every word seemed to hum with sincerity, filling the room. Even without a translation, we could feel it.

Then she began to speak in English—clear, gentle, and steady. And the room went still. That’s when it hit us: she had heard everything said earlier. Every careless word. Every unkind comment.

Yet there she stood—with grace.

Her voice was warm. Her message hopeful. She spoke of love, of faith, of service, and invited us to come to her country.

That moment changed me. I saw how easy it is to talk about God’s love without actually showing it. Her faith wasn’t something she wore—it was something she lived.

Real faith isn’t proven by what we say or sing. It’s proven by how we love the person standing right in front of us. Because when we love like that young woman did, we’re imitating the heart of Jesus Himself—the One who loved us first and offered Himself completely for us.

That’s where people begin to see Jesus for who He really is.

— Mark Hall, Casting Crowns

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Have you ever missed an opportunity to show love because you were focused elsewhere? How might God be calling you to slow down and see people this week?
  • Ephesians 5:1–2 invites us to “live a life filled with love.” What does that look like in practical terms in your home, workplace, or church?
  • When was the last time you saw someone live out Christ’s love in a way that challenged or inspired you?
  • How can you make your faith visible through kindness, humility, or inclusion today?
  • Who in your life might need to feel God’s love through your actions right now?

L Y R I C S

It’s crowded in worship today
As she slips in trying to fade into the faces
The girls’ teasing laughter is carrying farther than they know
Farther than they know

But if we are the body
Why aren’t His arms reaching?
Why aren’t His hands healing?
Why aren’t His words teaching?
If we are the body
Why aren’t His feet going?
Why is His love not showing them there is a way?
‘Cause there is a way

A traveler is far away from home
And he sheds His coat and quietly sinks into the back row
The weight of their judgmental glances
Tells him that His chances are better out on the road

But if we are the body
Why aren’t His arms reaching?
Why aren’t His hands healing?
Why aren’t His words teaching?
If we are the body
Why aren’t His feet going?
Why is His love not showing them there is a way?

‘Cause Jesus paid much too high a price
For us to pick and choose who should come
We are the body of Christ

If we are the body
Why aren’t His arms reaching?
Why aren’t His hands healing?
Why aren’t His words teaching?
If we are the body
Why aren’t His feet going?
Why is His love not showing them there is a way?
Jesus is the way
Ooh, ooh
Jesus is the way
Ooh, ooh

Writers: Mark Hall

© 2003 My Refuge Music / Be Essential Songs (BMI)

/by

Jesus Seen Through Us

, ,

Ephesians 5:1-2 — Imitate God, therefore, in everything you do, because you are His dear children. Live a life filled with love, following the example of Christ. He loved us and offered Himself as a sacrifice for us, a pleasing aroma to God.

I can still see her face.

She was a young girl from Venezuela—quiet, reserved, sitting among a crowd of American teenagers who barely noticed her.

She had come with a visiting missions team to help us prepare for a trip to her country. Later, I learned she didn’t even own proper clothes for the journey. Someone had to buy her something suitable to wear.

That Wednesday night, she slipped into our youth group meeting and took a seat in the back. Hands folded neatly in her lap. Eyes down.

No one greeted her. Not one person leaned over to ask her name. Conversations carried on like they always did—some girls whispered about what others were wearing, others laughed about their plans for Friday night.

And there she sat—still, quiet, listening. Then, when the music started, she watched as all those same girls who had ignored her moments before raised their hands high in worship.

It’s funny—Ephesians 5:1–2 tells us to “Imitate God, therefore, in everything you do, because you are His dear children. Live a life filled with love, following the example of Christ.” That night, I realized how easy it is to worship with our lips but forget to love with our actions.

Later, her team leader invited her to speak. She walked to the front, her steps soft but sure, and began to pray in Spanish. Her voice trembled—not with fear, but with reverence. Every word seemed to hum with sincerity, filling the room. Even without a translation, we could feel it.

Then she began to speak in English—clear, gentle, and steady. And the room went still. That’s when it hit us: she had heard everything said earlier. Every careless word. Every unkind comment.

Yet there she stood—with grace.

Her voice was warm. Her message hopeful. She spoke of love, of faith, of service, and invited us to come to her country.

That moment changed me. I saw how easy it is to talk about God’s love without actually showing it. Her faith wasn’t something she wore—it was something she lived.

Real faith isn’t proven by what we say or sing. It’s proven by how we love the person standing right in front of us. Because when we love like that young woman did, we’re imitating the heart of Jesus Himself—the One who loved us first and offered Himself completely for us.

That’s where people begin to see Jesus for who He really is.

— Mark Hall

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Have you ever missed an opportunity to show love because you were focused elsewhere? How might God be calling you to slow down and see people this week?
  • Ephesians 5:1–2 invites us to “live a life filled with love.” What does that look like in practical terms in your home, workplace, or church?
  • When was the last time you saw someone live out Christ’s love in a way that challenged or inspired you?
  • How can you make your faith visible through kindness, humility, or inclusion today?
  • Who in your life might need to feel God’s love through your actions right now?
/by

God Is Always in Your Story

, ,

Jeremiah 29:11 – “For I know the plans I have for you,” says the LORD. “They are plans for good and not disaster, to give you a future and a hope.”

I have loved singing for as long as I can remember. Music was always my dream, but life had other plans that led me through twists I never expected.

I was born with congenital scoliosis, a rare and progressive condition that stacked the odds against me early on.

Because of everything I went through, I thought I would make an impact through the medical field. That seemed like the best way for me to make a comfortable life that also helped others in pain.

When I was fourteen, I had back surgery to correct my spine. Doctors placed metal rods and screws along my back to straighten it. They told me it had a high success rate, but when I woke up, I was in excruciating pain.

The physical pain was unbearable, but the emotional weight was worse. Anxiety and depression became this smoke cloud I could not see through. I started to believe this would be my life forever.

One day, I reached for a bottle of pills and thought, “It would be that easy.”

I told God I just wanted to be with Him where it was safe and I did not have to hurt anymore. But as I carried that bottle to the bathroom, it fell from my hand and spilled everywhere. In that moment, I felt God’s presence so strongly. It was as if He whispered, “Hold on, I am not done yet.”

I threw the pills away and clung to those words. I had nothing left but a tiny seed of faith to hold onto, and that faith kept me alive.

I held tightly to Jeremiah 29:11 on a tattered prayer card that reminded me God’s plan was still good. It says, “For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.”

After countless appointments, my surgeon offered a risky option—to remove the rods and screws. I said yes. When I woke up from that second surgery, the dark cloud was gone and light returned to my world.

I went on to finish my medical assisting certification, but deep down, something had changed.

Comfort no longer felt like the goal.

God was calling me to trust Him instead of my plans. So, I started writing songs and leading worship so people could see a sparkle of God’s hope in their own stories, the way I found it in mine.

When I sing “God Is in This Story,” I mean it. I’ve lived it. If you’re walking through pain or uncertainty right now, please know this. God hasn’t forgotten you. Even when the chapters feel dark, His light is still there, waiting to break through.

You may not see it yet, but one day, you’ll look back and see that He was in every line and on every page because God can step into the darkest moments and turn them into something beautiful.

— Katy Nichole

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • Think about a time when your life felt uncertain or overwhelming. How might God have been working behind the scenes in that situation?
  • How does Jeremiah 29:11 encourage you to trust God’s plan for your future, even when you cannot see the outcome?
  • What “tiny seeds of faith” do you hold onto during difficult seasons? How can you nurture them to grow stronger?
  • How could your story of perseverance and faith encourage someone else walking through pain or uncertainty?
  • Are there areas of your life where you need to release control and trust God’s plan more fully?

Lyrics:

There’s torn up pages in this book
Words that tell me I’m no good
Chapters that defined me for so long
But the hands of grace and endless love
Dusted off and picked me up
Told my heart that hope is never gone

God is in this story
God is in the details
Even in the broken parts
He holds my heart, He never fails
When I’m at my weakest
I will trust in Jesus
Always in the highs and lows
The One who goes before me
God is in this story

So if the storm you’re walking through
Feels like it’s too much, and you
Wonder if He even cares at all
Hold on tight to what you know
He promised He won’t let you go
Your song of healing’s written in His scars

God is in this story
God is in the details
Even in the broken parts
He holds my heart, He never fails
When I’m at my weakest
I will trust in Jesus
Always in the highs and lows
The One who goes before me
God is in this story

If it reads like addiction
If it reads like disease
He’s the One who frees the prisoner
He’s the healer of all things
If it reads like depression
If it reads broken home
He’s the One who holds your sorrow
He won’t leave you here alone

God is in this story
God is in the details
Even in the broken parts
He holds my heart, He never fails
When I’m at my weakest
I will trust in Jesus
Always in the highs and lows
The One who goes before me
God is in this story

/by

Every Hour, I Need Him

, , ,

Psalms 34:17 – The Lord hears His people when they call to Him for help. He rescues them from all their troubles.

Some days, even your own shoes feel too heavy.

That was me not long ago, dragging through the morning like I was wading through syrup. I wasn’t falling apart in some dramatic way—it was just the small stuff that piles up. Bills. Work. Loneliness. The creeping fear that maybe this is all life will ever be.

I sat in the car before heading inside, gripping the steering wheel like it might hold me together. I was praying, but not really. I was mostly just breathing.

Then, over the hum of my car’s speakers, Matt Maher’s song started: “Lord, I need You, oh, I need You; every hour I need You.”

Inside, my heart felt flooded with peace. I didn’t say anything. I just let the words wash over me, like water for my soul. I knew God was doing for my heart what I couldn’t.

Later, I looked up the story behind that song. Turns out, Maher had been asked to write something for a worship conference. He said the only way he could do it was by starting with what he himself needed.

So he sat down, thinking of old hymns and books read from C.S. Lewis, and out came that prayer of desperation set to melody. “Lord, I need You” was born from weakness.

That’s me. That’s us. Weak people, whispering weak prayers, and somehow finding strength to make it through one more hour.

And maybe that’s enough. Maybe that’s the point.

Because every hour, I need Him. And every hour, He’s already there.

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • When was the last time you felt too weary to pray—and how did God meet you anyway?
  • What small, quiet ways has God reminded you of His presence when life feels heavy?
  • How might weakness actually draw you closer to Him, rather than push you away?
  • Is there a song, verse, or memory that helps you remember you are never alone?

Lyrics

Lord I come, I confess
Bowing here, I find my rest
Without You, I fall apart
You’re the one that guides my heart

Lord, I need You, oh, I need You
Every hour, I need You
My one defense, my righteousness
Oh God, how I need You

Where sin runs deep, Your grace is more
Where grace is found is where You are
And where You are, Lord, I am free
Holiness is Christ in me

Lord, I need You, oh, I need You
Every hour, I need You
My one defense, my righteousness
Oh God, how I need You

So teach my song to rise to You
When temptation comes my way
And when I cannot stand, I’ll fall on You
Jesus, You’re my hope and stay

Lord, I need You, oh, I need You
Every hour, I need You
My one defense, my righteousness
Oh God, how I need You
You’re my one defense, my righteousness
Oh God, how I need You

My one defense, my righteousness
Oh God, how I need You

/by

From Brokenness to Blessing

, ,

Hebrews 6:19-20 — This hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls. It leads us through the curtain into God’s inner sanctuary. Jesus has already gone in there for us. 

Eliza Hewitt was not used to silence. She had built her life around classrooms, chalkboards, and the steady hum of work. She liked being useful and always moving toward something.

But then the injury came, and life suddenly got quiet.

Days stretched out like long empty roads. Her body throbbed, her spirit became restless, and questions circled in her mind. Why me? What now? Where is God in all of this?

She would have traded anything for answers.

But as the days passed, Eliza started to read her Bible. This was not the casual kind of reading used to pass the time. No. She was desperate.

And in those long, slow hours, she saw things she had never noticed before. Words she had skimmed past now felt alive. Promises she had memorized now felt like they were written just for her.

She knew she was not just surviving this hardship. God was doing something in it.

One day she found herself humming an old tune she had started writing before everything changed. At the time, it was just another melody. Now, the words carried weight:

“When we all get to heaven, what a day of rejoicing that will be.”

Those days in Scripture had changed her. Hope was no longer abstract—it was a rock-solid anchor for her soul. It was what kept her steady when everything else felt unmoored.

When she finally released the song, it spread like wildfire. People who were hurting and searching found something in those words—something bigger than their pain.

Eliza never would have chosen her hardship, but looking back, she saw it clearly. Her pain had not been wasted. God had turned her silence into a song of hope, and it was too valuable to keep to herself.

That’s the thing about hope—it doesn’t just hold you steady; it gives you something to offer others.

Could it be that the very thing you are wrestling with right now is the story someone else needs to hear?

 

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

  • What hardship or “quiet season” has God used to deepen your hope in Him?
  • How has His Word become an anchor for your soul in times of uncertainty?
  • Who might need to hear the song of hope your story is still writing?

 

When We All Get to Heaven

Sing the wondrous love of Jesus
Sing His mercy and His grace
In the mansions, bright and blessed
He’ll prepare for us a place

When we all get to Heaven
What a day of rejoicing that will be
When we all see Jesus
We’ll sing and shout the victory

While we walk the pilgrim pathway
Clouds will overspread the sky
But when traveling days are over
Not a shadow, not a sigh

When we all get to Heaven
What a day of rejoicing that will be
When we all see Jesus
We’ll sing and shout the victory

Onward to the prize before us
Soon His beauty we’ll behold
Soon the pearly gates will open
And we shall tread the streets of gold

When we all get to Heaven
What a day of rejoicing that will be
When we all see Jesus
We’ll sing and shout the victory

(Words: Eliza E. Hewitt / Music: Emily D. Wilson / Arranged By: Mark Hall)

/by