The Connection Corner

What Faith Sounds Like in the Dark

Daily Devotional, Heart of the Artist, Stories About Songs

Psalms 119:50 — This is my comfort in my affliction, that your promise gives me life.

No one talks about the silence after a funeral. It is the kind that wraps around your ribcage and squeezes, the kind that makes you forget how to pray.

After TobyMac’s son, Truett, died from an accidental overdose, he knew people meant well. They quoted verses and reminded him of Heaven, but they hadn’t buried their sons. They hadn’t sat on their child’s bed, with sheets still rumpled, wondering how the world could possibly go on.

There was no song to sing. No words were big enough, and no melody was brave enough. The truth was simple and terrible: his son had died, and no amount of faith could make this less awful.

Weeks passed. Then months. And when he finally walked into his first writing session since it all fell apart, he wasn’t sure why he was there. He still felt hollow.

But something happened in that room. He sat down with a few chords, a few unfinished thoughts. What poured out wasn’t polished or planned. It was raw and quiet—an ache turned into lyrics. And the song that came to life that day was called “Faithfully.”

He wrote it because he needed to. He needed a reminder of what he believed… even when he didn’t feel it.

“But when my world broke into pieces
You were there faithfully
When I cried out to You, Jesus
You made a way for me
I may never be the same man
But I’m a man who still believes
When I cried out to You, Jesus
You were there faithfully”

As the song played back, he let the tears fall. That’s when he knew. This was a gift. Not a fix, not an answer—just a lifeline. A melody for the midnight hour. He hadn’t expected “Faithfully” to become the anchor he’d need, but God did.

And maybe you’re in a place like that now. Gutted. Like your world doesn’t make sense. Like God is a million miles away. If so, let this be a hand on your shoulder.

The truth is, God loves you. And He is still holding on. Faithfully.

This is what Toby discovered in that dark stretch of road. Not all prayers get answers. Not all stories get neat endings. But even then, God is good. He won’t abandon you in your pain. If that’s all you can hold onto right now, believe me, that’s enough.

Lyrics:
It’s been a long year; it almost took me down I swear
Life was so good, I’m not so sure we knew what we had
I’ll never be the same man, I’ll never feel like I felt before
It’s been a hard year, it almost took me down

But when we my world broke into pieces
You were there faithfully
When I cried out to you Jesus
You made a way for me

I may never be the same man
But I’m a man who still believes
When I cried out to you Jesus
You were there faithfully

I’ve had a hard time, finding the blue in the skies above me
And if I’m keeping it real, I’ve been half fakin’ the happy they see
I may look like the same man, but I’m half the man I was
It’s been a hard year it almost took me down

In my darkest hour, You met me
So quietly, so gently
You said You’d never leave, and You stood by Your word

So quietly, so gently
In all my pain, You met me
You said You’d never leave, and You stood by Your word

Songwriters: Kyle Williams / Toby McKeehan

June 15, 2025/by David Hall

Lessons From a Cast Iron Skillet

Daily Devotional, Tammi Arender

Ephesians 6:2-3 — “Honor your father and mother (this is the first commandment with a promise), that it may go well with you and that you may live long in the land.”

I was standing at the stove last night, stirring a pot, when it hit me like a freight train wrapped in butter and memory. Food is my love language, you see, and it took me back.

Daddy used to come home after long days working the fields in Tallulah. He would be covered in dust and sweat and still manage to whip up the best meal you ever had. He could tickle your taste buds and your funny bone, all in one sitting. Especially with his scrambled eggs.

Saturday mornings, he would make a batch so creamy and seasoned just right, they practically melted on your tongue. They weren’t dry and crumbly like most folks make. No, these were something special, and if you were lucky, he would crack a joke while he was cracking the eggs.

I did not care one bit about learning to cook back then. I was a tomboy, all elbows and skinned knees, with no interest in the stove, but I never missed a meal. Not once. Now, years later, I find myself standing in a kitchen, doing the very thing I once ran from. Somewhere between the recipe cards and the frying pans, I came full circle.

Billy Ray Arender is not here anymore, and if this daddy’s girl could walk into that kitchen again and ask him what he was cooking, I would, a hundred times over. But I can’t. So, I like to cook. I try to remember him and honor his memory.

See, in the Bible, the fifth commandment doesn’t just ask us to obey our parents when we’re young. It teaches us to honor them with our whole lives.

If you’re still blessed to have your parents or grandparents, treasure that gift. Sit with them. Learn from them. Ask them the things you will want to remember, and if they’re already gone, honor them by how you live, how you love, and how you carry their legacy forward—one quiet, everyday moment at a time.

June 14, 2025/by Tammi Arender

When Someone Believes in You

Daily Devotional, David Hall

Hebrews 10:24 – “And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works.”

It’s in the pages of the Bible that readers first meet Mordecai—a man living in a foreign land, carrying the weight of his people’s survival on his shoulders.

He didn’t set out to raise a warrior, nor did he expect to shape royalty. All he knew was that Esther needed a home. She was his cousin by blood, a fellow Jew in Persia—exiles in a kingdom that was never truly theirs. After her parents died, he took her in, gave her a place at his table, and called her his own.

The young Jewish girl grew up with questions—about God, about suffering, about why other girls had parents to tuck them in at night and she didn’t. Mordecai did not always have the answers, but he listened. He told her what he knew to be true: that she was not forgotten, that she was made with purpose, and that her life would matter, even when it didn’t feel like it did.

Then came the day they called for all the young women. The king was looking for a new queen. And Esther—his Esther—was taken.

Mordecai could not stop it. He could not follow her inside. All he could do was pace the outer court and pray she would remember who she was when the world tried to tell her otherwise. And she did.

She remembered.

When the fate of their people hung in the balance, Esther stood before the king as a woman of courage. Every day, Mordecai stood right outside the gate so she would know she wasn’t alone. He stayed because he had seen too many young people lose their way, and he refused to let her be one of them.

And I think that is why this story matters.

Because every one of us—father figures, mom, mentors, and friends—carries a voice that shapes identity. Do not underestimate the strength it takes to stay, to believe, and to remind someone of who they truly are when the world tries to define them otherwise.

This Father’s Day, whether by birth or by choice, may we all remember the power of showing up. One day, those we’ve poured into will stand tall, and it will be our steady love that helped them rise.

June 13, 2025/by David Hall