The Connection Corner

Living Beyond the Hurt

Ephesians 4:31-32 – “Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.”

Some men age by the calendar. Bruce Seaver aged by what he survived.

He doesn’t talk about it much, but he was 31 when they shot him out of the sky. The year was 1965, and the Vietnam War had no end in sight. What followed wasn’t strategy or tactics—it was just survival. Bruce spent over seven years in captivity.

His is not the kind of story people expect. There’s no big climax, no revenge, and no sweeping rescue. Just long days, empty stomachs, and a slow-burning resolve. Faith, Bruce says, is what kept him sane.

When he finally came home in 1973, the word “hero” followed him like a shadow. He still squirms when he is called one.

“No,” he said, voice even, “I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The real heroes are the ones who didn’t come home.”

He could’ve come back angry. Some did. But Bruce chose to leave bitterness behind. Back home in West Monroe, he didn’t lash out or preach. Instead, he hugged his wife, kissed his daughters, and started living again.

In a world that insists that bitterness is strength and paints forgiveness as weakness, Bruce showed a different kind of courage. It’s one the world doesn’t quite know what to do with. He said it best: “I just want to focus on time gained, not time lost.”

At ninety-one, he still swims thirty minutes every morning—not to outrun the past but to stay grounded in the present. And maybe that’s the truest kind of hero: the one who is mistreated and never lets it twist his heart.

So, friend, what might it look like for you to stop clinging to what hurt you and choose what heals instead?

July 2, 2025/by Linda Meyers

Let Wonder Wash Over You

Daily Devotional, David Hall

Psalms 93:4 – “Mightier than the thunders of many waters, mightier than the waves of the sea, the Lord on high is mighty!”

It is funny how some moments live forever in your bones.

When I was young, Caney Lake felt like home. My grandfather’s porch overlooked it, and we spent slow, golden hours there watching birds soar and listening to old gospel songs crackle through his radio. We did not say much. We did not need to. The water did the talking.

But it wasn’t until years later that I realized how much I’d missed.

It was Independence Day, and we piled onto my great-uncle’s pontoon to watch fireworks from the lake. As the boat drifted into open water, the sky burst into a thousand colors, but my eyes kept drifting to the water below—how far it stretched, how deep it ran. The lake I thought I knew was bigger than I ever imagined.

That night, I understood I had always admired the surface—the sun dancing on the water, the reflections of the trees—but I’d never stopped to consider the depths. Floating above that mystery, I felt breathtakingly small.

Wonder washed over me, and I realized I was looking at something that went far beyond my understanding. It was a glimpse of something holy, a gentle reminder that I was part of a story much bigger than myself.

That feeling never left me. It reminded me that creation itself is a love letter from its Maker. Every leaf, every wave, every sunrise—each one points back to the God who formed it into being. But it’s so easy to just focus on the surface (our schedules, our worries, our comforts) and miss the wonder that’s all around us.

That night taught me creation is more than just a backdrop to our lives. It’s an open invitation to pause, to breathe, and to let wonder stir our hearts to gratitude. I want to be the kind of person who sees the fingerprints of God in the everyday, who lets wonder guide me back to the Creator who holds it all together.

Maybe you need that too. Maybe we all do—to trade the safe shoreline for the deep places where wonder can find us again.

July 1, 2025/by David Hall

The Gift of Being Different

Daily Devotional, Sarah Hall

Deuteronomy 14:2 — “You have been set apart as holy to the Lord your God, and he has chosen you from all the nations of the earth to be his own special treasure.”

Growing up, I always knew I was different.

From family to classmates at school, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I just didn’t fit in. It felt like everyone else had some critical ingredient I was missing. Kids my age raised their hands, answered questions, laughed out loud like they belonged there.

For the longest time, I thought something was wrong with me. I was timid, more introverted, and often wondered if anyone even noticed me. That feeling of invisibility started to shape how I saw myself. I developed low self-esteem and bent over backward trying to please people.

But one day, one of those classmates invited me to go to church with her. I didn’t have a good reason to say no, so I went, nervous and unsure. That’s where I first heard about Jesus—how He came for people like me. The misfits, the quiet ones, and the ones who don’t know where they belong.

He came for me, and He loved me enough to give His life for me.

That felt like sunlight cracking through a storm cloud. For the first time, I felt truly seen and known.

But I wish I could say the insecurities vanished overnight. They didn’t. I carried them into high school, college, and early adulthood.

Then one Sunday, a pastor said something that caught me off guard. He said, “You are different.” My heart sank, but he went on: “God made you that way—on purpose, for a purpose.”

I sat up straighter. For the first time, I thought: maybe I wasn’t defective after all. Maybe I was designed by a loving God who had a plan for my life—and maybe my differences were actually gifts.

Later, I found it in Scripture—Deuteronomy 14:2. God sets us apart, chooses us, and calls us His special treasure. That’s not just poetic. That’s personal.

That’s when I started to see it and embrace it. I was handpicked by God, different, and made with a purpose only I could fulfill.

And maybe you need that reminder, too. Maybe you’ve spent too long thinking your differences disqualify you. But the truth is: God doesn’t make mistakes. He made you different on purpose, for a purpose—so you could bring something only you can bring to His family.

Don’t let the world’s lies define you. Let Jesus reintroduce you to the you He made—a masterpiece, a treasure. The real, set-apart you.

June 30, 2025/by Sarah Hall