The Connection Corner

Life After Letting Go

Daily Devotional, Heart of the Artist, Stories About Songs

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)

July 31, 2025/by David Hall

A Brotherhood of the Broken

Daily Devotional, David Hall

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.

July 30, 2025/by David Hall

This Is Not God’s First Rodeo

Daily Devotional, Tammi Arender

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.

July 29, 2025/by Tammi Arender