The Connection Corner

This Is Not God’s First Rodeo

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

Where Broken Meets Beautiful

Brenda Price, Daily Devotional

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.

July 28, 2025/by Brenda Price

He’s a Good Father

Daily Devotional, Heart of the Artist, Stories About Songs

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

July 27, 2025/by Linda Meyers