The Connection Corner

Letting Growth Happen

Psalms 130:3-4 — Lord, if you kept a record of our sins, who, O Lord, could ever survive? But you offer forgiveness, that we might learn to fear you.

You don’t realize how helpless love can feel until you’re watching someone you care about make their own mistakes.

These days, I’m standing in that space with my kid as he navigates the maze of college decisions. Deadlines. Forms. Emails that don’t get answered.

And I feel that old dad instinct flare up—to jump in, push harder, smooth the road so nothing falls through the cracks.

I want to grab the wheel.

But I don’t.

Because there’s a line—thin and uncomfortable—between guidance and interference. Between protecting someone and preventing them from growing.

If everything is rescued, nothing is learned.

Sometimes love means letting someone feel the heat of the stove—not because you’re cruel, but because you care about who they’re becoming.

And eventually I start to recognize myself in that story.

How often do I wish God would step in sooner? Fix things faster? Remove the hard parts before they cost me anything?

But God doesn’t force obedience, because forced obedience isn’t love.

Instead, He gives us something far more powerful: patience.

I imagine Him watching us the same way—seeing the better road clearly while we circle the same habits. He knows where they lead. He offers a way forward.

And still, He gives us the dignity of choice.

Not because He’s distant.

Because He’s patient.

The psalmist reminds us that if God kept a record of every wrong, none of us would be standing. But instead, He offers forgiveness—grace that doesn’t ignore sin but invites us to grow beyond it.

That kind of mercy changes us. It teaches us to stand in awe of God and to take His grace seriously.

God isn’t passive with us. He’s purposeful.

Just like I believe my son is capable of growth, God believes the same about us.

And maybe the life we keep asking Him to hand us is the one He’s been patiently teaching us to walk into all along.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

When have you experienced the tension between helping someone and letting them learn on their own?
Why do you think God sometimes allows us to face consequences instead of removing them?
How does knowing that God offers forgiveness change the way you view your mistakes?
In what ways might God be patiently guiding you toward growth right now?
What would it look like to respond to God’s mercy with deeper trust and obedience?

March 14, 2026/by Jeff Connell

Choose the Longer Table

Bri Dunn, Daily Devotional

Romans 15:7 — Therefore welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.

The table is already full when I walk into the kitchen.

Extra food is laid out. Extra plates are stacked nearby. Chairs lean against the wall, ready if needed. And before I even sit down, a quiet gratitude rises in me.

Thank You, God.

But it hasn’t always felt this way.

If I’m honest, there have been seasons when abundance made me anxious instead of grateful. Times when I had more than enough and still felt the urge to guard it. To think, I worked hard for this. What if I need it later?

You might recognize that feeling.

Sometimes the struggle isn’t generosity—it’s control.

Some days I’m openhanded. Other days I’m cautious. The tension is familiar: Do I hold on, or do I let it flow?

And then, almost without warning, I remember something important.

I remember how I was welcomed.

I didn’t earn my seat at God’s table. I didn’t bring enough to justify being there. Grace wasn’t measured out carefully or guarded with conditions.

I was invited simply because that’s who God is.

There were no fences. No fine print. Just a place set for me.

And remembering that changes everything.

Generosity stops feeling like loss and starts looking like imitation—taking the same posture as Jesus. After all, Scripture says, “Welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you.”

That’s the pattern.

I’ve been welcomed, so I welcome.

That doesn’t mean my instincts magically change. Some days I still want to build a fence. To protect what feels scarce. But grace keeps interrupting that impulse, reminding me how freely I was received.

So today, I choose the longer table.

I pull up another chair. I share what I’ve been given.

And that’s the invitation for all of us—to open our lives a little wider and live like the table was always meant to have room for more.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

When have you experienced someone welcoming you in a way that made you feel truly valued?
Why do you think it can be difficult to share what we have, even when we have enough?
How does remembering Christ’s welcome toward you change the way you treat others?
What might a “longer table” look like in your life this week?
Who could you intentionally welcome today?

March 13, 2026/by Bri Dunn

Faith on the Tower

Brendan McClain, Daily Devotional

1 Peter 2:9 — But you are not like that, for you are a chosen people. You are royal priests, a holy nation, God’s very own possession. As a result, you can show others the goodness of God, for he called you out of the darkness into his wonderful light.

The wind hits first—sharp and loud—as two men clip themselves onto a radio tower before sunrise.

Cody is new to the job. New to the height. New to being strapped in beside the same person for twelve hours a day. This kind of work demands trust. Even if you don’t like the person next to you, your life depends on them.

Every morning, Cody turns on worship music from his phone and prays out loud. Not to make a point—there’s just nowhere to hide it up here.

His climbing partner makes his feelings clear early on. He doesn’t believe in God. In fact, he says he hates Him.

Cody doesn’t argue.

But he also doesn’t turn the music off.

Days stretch into weeks. The scoffing slowly turns into small talk. Then one morning, the partner asks Cody to pray—but not for him. Just for his daughter.

So Cody prays right there on the tower.

And they go back to work.

Then one night, Cody’s phone rings.

His coworker’s voice sounds different. Heavy. Desperate. He admits he has relapsed in his addiction and doesn’t want to live anymore.

Cody calls his dad, and together they sit with the man for hours. No preaching. No pressure. Just the simple truths of the gospel: you are loved, you have purpose, and God has a plan for your life.

Later, the coworker admits something that surprises Cody.

It wasn’t an argument that made him call.

It was the worship music. It was Cody’s consistency. It was the steady love that felt trustworthy and real.

Scripture reminds us that God has called His people out of darkness and into His wonderful light—not just so we can experience it, but so we can show His goodness to others.

Cody didn’t know how deep the darkness was for his coworker. He simply kept living in the light long enough for someone else to notice it.

And that’s often how God works.

Somewhere near you, someone is watching what faith looks like in real life—in long days, ordinary conversations, and quiet moments when love costs time and attention.

So keep living your faith out loud.

Consistency can soften hearts that arguments never will.

And when the light stays on long enough, it has a way of drawing people home.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

Who in your life regularly sees how you live out your faith?
Why do you think consistency can influence people more than arguments?
How does knowing you are “chosen” by God change the way you live around others?
What might it look like for you to shine God’s light in an ordinary moment this week?
Who might be watching your faith more closely than you realize?

March 12, 2026/by lameyers