The Connection Corner
A daily source of encouragement and inspiration to connect your heart to hope and faith.
A daily source of encouragement and inspiration to connect your heart to hope and faith.
Media Ministries, Inc.
101 N. 2nd Street, Suite 200
West Monroe, LA 71291
Office Phone: (318) 387-1230
Studio Line/Text Line: (318) 651-8870
Mailing Address:
PO Box 3265
Monroe, LA 71210

Transforming Heartbreak Into Worship
Daily Devotional, Heart of the Artist, Stories About SongsThe studio was quiet that morning. It was not the peaceful kind of quiet. This was the heavy kind that hangs in the air when no one quite knows what to say. Tasha Layton sat with her co-writers, the weight of yesterday still settling in.
Their friend Jonathan had just been diagnosed with cancer. The shock had not yet worn off.
She stared at the blank page before her, praying words would come. Music had always been a way she talked to God, but this time, she did not know where to begin.
The ache was too real, the hope too fragile. Someone suggested they just write from where they were—from the hurt, the hope, the uncertainty.
So they began. Slowly at first. A few chords. A few tears. The song that formed was not a declaration of victory but a cry of surrender. “We were holding the weight of grief,” she later said, “but still believing in a miracle-working God.”
When they finished, they sent the song to Jonathan. He listened from his hospital bed, and though his body weakened in the months that followed, his faith remained strong.
In the end, the miracle came—but not the one they had expected. Jonathan’s healing did not happen on this side of heaven.
Yet somehow, the song did not lose its purpose.
It deepened. It became less about outcomes and more about presence. It was less about God’s many miracles, and more about who He is. For Tasha, it became an anthem for those who stand in the middle of pain and still lift their hands anyway.
She often thinks of the words from Psalm 34:1, “I will bless the Lord at all times.” They remind her that worship is not reserved for the mountaintop moments but for every season, even the ones that break your heart.
Now, when she sings “Worship Through It,” it is not a performance—it is a prayer. A reminder that real faith often sounds like gratitude whispered through tears. And perhaps the truest kind of transformation is found there—in the valley, where thankfulness still rises.
This Thanksgiving, maybe that is where we begin too. Not by waiting for everything to be right, but by choosing to bless the Lord right where we are—and letting that gratitude change us from within.
A MOMENT TO REFLECT
L Y R I C S
This looks impossible
But You’re the God of impossible
And I’ve seen your faithfulness all over my life
I need a miracle
And You’re the God of miracles
Some way, somehow You come through every time
Chorus
I know my God can do it
So, I’m gonna worship through it
Before I see my breakthrough
I’m gonna choose to praise You
I will sing hallelujah to the one
Who can do what the world says can’t be done
I know my God can do it
So, I’m gonna worship through it
In the middle of my no way out
In the middle of my don’t know how
I hear You whisper to me “peace be still”
This is why I believe
You will deliver me
You always have and you always will
You always have and you always will
I won’t wait ‘til the rocks cry out
I’m gonna praise You
I won’t wait till the walls come down
I’m gonna praise You
(Gonna) Lift my hands right here, right now
I’m gonna praise You
Oh God I praise You!
Written by Tasha Layton, Keith Everette Smith, Matthew West, AJ Pruis
Thankful For Sandpaper People
Daily Devotional, Tammi ArenderI stir the pasta sauce on the stove and glance out the kitchen window, letting the quiet of the evening settle around me. The day had been full of people—some kind, some careless, and a few who seemed determined to push every one of my buttons.
I shake my head and laugh at myself, because I have a name for these types in my prayers. I call them sandpaper people. They scratch, they irritate, they rub you wrong without even trying, and somehow, God always seems to place them right in my path.
I breathe in slowly, the aroma of garlic and tomato mingling with the evening air, and let the tension go.
Sandpaper, I remind myself, smooths rough edges. And I have plenty. I have places I do not even see—spots where I can be abrasive, impatient, judgmental. And maybe, without meaning to, I am a sandpaper person to someone else today. It is in the friction of our interactions, the bumps and irritations of ordinary life, that God works on us.
I think that’s why scripture says, “Make allowance for each other’s faults, and forgive anyone who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others.”
That’s the kind of grace I want, so shouldn’t I also make room in my heart for others even when they are aggravating.
I taste the sauce, still too hot, and smile. I lift my heart in a quiet “thank you” for those people who tested my patience today. I whisper a prayer for them, too. Because God does not just ask us to endure. God asks us to love. Even the ones who are hardest to love. Even the ones who make us want to roll our eyes or bite our tongues.
They are refining us. And sometimes, they are mirrors, showing us the rough spots in ourselves that only He can smooth.
So I stir the pot again and watch the steam rise. And I wonder, if we looked at the people who irritate us with a little more gratitude, would we see them differently?
Could we see them as part of the plan, helping shape the patience and kindness we could not develop on our own? Tonight, I am thankful. For the sandpaper people, for the growth they inspire, and for a God who never wastes the little irritations of a day.
A MOMENT TO REFLECT
Let Him Do the Work
Bri Dunn, Daily DevotionalWeekends in our house are usually reserved for three things: resting, catching up with friends, and cleaning. I’ll be honest—cleaning isn’t my favorite part. But there’s nothing better than that feeling when the house smells fresh and everything’s in its place.
My stepdaughter actually loves to clean. Her favorite thing is mopping. She’ll boil water, pick out the best-smelling detergent she can find, and go to town on those floors. Sometimes I’ll walk in and the whole house smells amazing—like lemons and lavender had a baby. But when I ask her if she swept first, she’ll grin and say, “Oh… I forgot. I just wanted it to smell good.”
And I get that. I love a good-smelling house too. But if you don’t sweep first, all you’re really doing is spreading that nice smell over a layer of dirt.
The more I thought about it, the more it hit me—that’s how a lot of us live our lives. We want to jump straight to the part that looks and smells good. We want people to see our “fresh” side, the part that feels put together. But underneath it all, there might still be dust and crumbs we’ve ignored.
It’s not the fun part, but the real work—the sweeping, the scrubbing, the part no one sees—has to happen first. That’s the part Jesus helps with.
That’s why I love the prayer found in the book of Psalm that says, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.”
We can bring our mess to God. He’s patient with us, right there in the middle of it. He knows about the disappointment that sticks, the guilt that clings, the places we keep trying to cover up.
And here’s the best part: He doesn’t mind rolling up His sleeves. He meets us in it. He helps clean out what we didn’t even know was there.
So this weekend, while we’re boiling water and mopping floors, maybe let Him in to do the same in your heart. Once He does that foundational work, everything else changes. You start to shine—not because you’re pretending to be perfect, but because He’s been there, cleaning you from the inside out.
A MOMENT TO REFLECT