The Connection Corner
A daily source of encouragement and inspiration to connect your heart to hope and faith.
Daily Devotional
The Treasure You Can’t SeeSeptember 19, 2026 - 9:00 am
Healing the Hidden HurtSeptember 18, 2026 - 7:00 am
Stop Second GuessingSeptember 17, 2026 - 7:00 am
The Hot Water TestSeptember 16, 2026 - 7:00 am
Don’t Rehearse The RegretSeptember 15, 2026 - 7:00 am
Look Up, It’s Not OverSeptember 14, 2026 - 7:00 am
Come As You AreSeptember 13, 2026 - 7:00 am
Leave Hope Wherever You GoSeptember 12, 2026 - 7:00 am
United We Still StandSeptember 11, 2026 - 7:00 am
Jesus Cares About That TooSeptember 10, 2026 - 7:00 am
HEART OF THE ARTIST
The Secret to Being BlessedSeptember 6, 2026 - 7:00 am
The Hardest HallelujahAugust 30, 2026 - 7:00 am
Meet Me in the ValleyAugust 9, 2026 - 7:00 am
Holding on Through HeartbreakJuly 5, 2026 - 7:00 am
Faith That Falls ForwardJune 18, 2026 - 7:00 am
STORIES ABOUT SONGS
- Come As You AreSeptember 13, 2026 - 7:00 am
- The Hardest HallelujahAugust 30, 2026 - 7:00 am
The Fight Nobody SeesAugust 23, 2026 - 7:00 am
One Way Through the ChaosJuly 26, 2026 - 7:00 am
The Gospel Still Changes EverythingJuly 12, 2026 - 7:00 am
Stories About Songs
- Come As You AreSeptember 13, 2026 - 7:00 am
- The Hardest HallelujahAugust 30, 2026 - 7:00 am
- The Fight Nobody SeesAugust 23, 2026 - 7:00 am
- One Way Through the ChaosJuly 26, 2026 - 7:00 am
- The Gospel Still Changes EverythingJuly 12, 2026 - 7:00 am
The Power of a Hallelujah
Daily Devotional, Heart of the Artist, Stories About SongsThe 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
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
Safe in God’s Strong Hands
Brenda Price, Daily DevotionalWhen I was a little girl, I got to go to Yankee Stadium. My dad was taking us to watch the major league team in action, and I could hardly take it all in.
The city roared all around us. Taxis honked, people rushed past, and voices echoed off the tall buildings. I remember clutching my little purse so tightly.
Dad told me to wear it across my chest so no one could steal it. Then he reached down, wrapped his hand around mine, and led me toward the stadium. His hand was strong, steady, and sure.
We moved through a sea of people, but I never felt afraid.
Dad’s grip didn’t loosen, not even for a second. He watched every step ahead of us, making sure I stayed close. I remember the way he would tilt his head back just to check on me. There was no mistaking it—he was not letting go of his little girl.
That memory has stayed with me all these years later. It’s a snapshot I can still feel, because that is exactly how God is with us.
He holds our hand tightly with His right hand, drawing us close to His heart. He guides us when we cannot see where we’re going. He shields us when the world feels too loud and uncertain. His promises do not fade with time, and His hold does not weaken when the road gets crowded.
Sometimes, I still feel like that little girl in a world too big to handle. But when I slow down long enough to notice God’s hand holding mine, I realize I am still being led—and still being held.
And maybe that is what He’s been whispering all along: “Don’t be afraid, Take courage. I am here.”
Gratitude begins right there—in the middle of the chaos, with the steady reminder that we are not walking alone. His hand is still sure, His presence still near, and His heart still set on us.
And when you really see that, thankfulness becomes the most natural thing in the world.
A MOMENT TO REFLECT
The Friend Who Never Left
Daily Devotional, Jeff ConnellI can still see him in the back seat—legs swinging, eyes shining, talking a mile a minute. He could hardly sit still because we were on our way to see his buddy, Max.
Back then, I could glance in the rearview mirror and see both boys grinning, covered in dirt, and full of plans that always seemed to involve snacks.
These days, my boy rides up front. He’s taller than me now, with a deeper voice and a driver’s permit that still makes me a little nervous. And today, we’re driving to the racetrack—same event, same two friends, just a few years older and a lot more sentimental on my end.
Their friendship started years ago under unusual circumstances. My son was pulled out of his own school once a week to attend a special program at Max’s school. I remember wondering how he’d handle being the new kid in a strange classroom. But then he met Max—and that was that.
That summer, their friendship stuck. Though we lived ten minutes apart, both sets of parents took turns shuttling them back and forth, week after week. They were inseparable.
And now, watching them pick up right where they left off—it gets me every time. There’s something beautiful about a friendship that doesn’t fade, no matter the distance or time apart.
But it also makes me think. Why is it so easy to believe that people can stay close through time and distance, but so hard to believe that about God?
Life gets busy. We drift. And before long, we convince ourselves we’ve gone too far to find our way back. But God never moves. He’s still standing right where you left Him, smiling, ready to welcome you home without a hint of hesitation.
Maybe that’s what grace really is. Not shame. Not scolding. Just joy at the reunion.
It reminds me of Hebrews 4:16, which says, “Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”
That verse isn’t an invitation for perfect people—it’s for wanderers, drifters, and those who feel like they’ve waited too long to return.
So if it’s been a while, maybe it’s time to buckle up again. The Friend who never left is still waiting—and the race of faith can start again right where you left off.
A MOMENT TO REFLECT