The Connection Corner

A daily source of encouragement and inspiration to connect your heart to hope and faith.

The Tension and The Choice

1 Corinthians 13:4-5 — Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged.

The Valentine’s aisle is a terrible place to reread a text that hurt your feelings.

I’m standing there with my cart half full, surrounded by pink balloons and candy hearts, staring at my phone. My husband David’s message wasn’t mean. It was just… short. Short enough to feel dismissive. And suddenly, in the middle of glittery cards, a knot tightens in my chest.

We love each other deeply. That’s not in question. But love doesn’t cancel friction. And in this moment, I feel like protecting myself, going quiet, and holding onto the irritation. Holding onto it feels justified, like self defense. Forgiving feels premature, like handing out a free pass before it’s earned.

As I walk past the displays, the cards start preaching at me.

“Love is patient.”
“Love is kind.”
“Love keeps no record of wrongs.”

I know those words, and I believe them. They’re straight out of 1 Corinthians. But instead of comforting me, the words irritate me. Because choosing love doesn’t feel poetic right now. It feels inconvenient. Letting this go feels like losing ground.

But I know, deep down, that love doesn’t collapse in one dramatic moment; it erodes in the simple ones we refuse to forgive. Forgiveness isn’t about being right—it’s about keeping the heart open, clearing the air, trusting God with justice, and choosing one another.

So, right there, between stuffed bears and heart-shaped boxes, I forgive him. Before apology, before explanation, before the weight can settle in. I hand the moment to God.

And the release is immediate.

The knot loosens. I let out a breath, and peace comes back faster than I expect. Later, when David does apologize—because he does—the conversation is lighter. Easier. The moment passes without leaving a scar. Love feels protected, not by my defenses, but by choosing to give grace.

That’s when it clicks for me. Forgiveness is not forgetting or pretending things don’t hurt. It’s not blindly walking back into old patterns, and sometimes it doesn’t even mean reconnection.

Forgiveness is laying down bitterness, releasing judgment, and trusting God with what we cannot control.

This Valentine’s week, love may not look poetic or like it does in your favorite Rom-com. It may look more like practicing 1 Corinthians 13 in real time: patience, kindness, and releasing small offenses before they grow. God notices every hurt, even the small ones, and He invites us to let Him carry them so love can breathe.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

What small hurt or irritation are you holding onto right now that God may be inviting you to release?
Which phrase from 1 Corinthians 13:4–5 feels hardest to live out in your current relationships—and why?
How might choosing forgiveness before an apology change the atmosphere of your heart or your home?
What would it look like to trust God with justice instead of keeping a mental record of wrongs?

February 3, 2026/by Sarah Hall

Fearfully, Wonderfully, Personally

Bri Dunn, Daily Devotional

Psalm 139:14 — I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.

I did not want to look in the mirror.

It’s youth group, folding chairs scraping the floor. There’s that low buzz of teenage awkwardness humming in the room. Someone smells like body spray. Someone else is laughing too loud.

We’re all sitting there when my youth pastor starts talking about a verse I already know by heart.

Psalm 139:14. “I praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”

I learned it years earlier—junior high or high school. It’s a good verse. A comforting one. It always shows up when the topic is on confidence or self worth. It was usually shared in “girl talks” when people struggled with how they looked and needed a confidence boost.

So, I assumed that meant it didn’t really apply to me. Or at least, I didn’t have to wrestle with it.

Then my youth pastor rolled a full-length mirror into the middle of the room.

Not metaphorical. Not symbolic. A real mirror, leaned against a chair, catching the fluorescent lights and every face in the room. He didn’t preach a long sermon. He said something like, “If you don’t believe this verse—go look yourself in the eyes and say it out loud.”

One by one, people stood up. Everyone lined up to say that scripture to their reflection.

My discomfort grew with every person who went before me. Watching friends stare at themselves. Watching tears fall.

When it was my turn, the room went quiet. I stood in front of the mirror. Braces and all. I opened my mouth and said, “I praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”

My voice cracked. Not because the verse was new—but because it was finally aimed in the right direction.

And that’s when something unexpected happened in me.

The verse stopped being about how I looked.

God wasn’t correcting my body image. He was confronting my unbelief. The moment wasn’t about the mirror at all—it was about realizing that God’s voice doesn’t skip over me to care for someone else. His words were not for the room; they were for me.

The truth went deeper than I expected that night, and That moment stayed with me. Scripture crossed the distance and became true in my heart.

And do you know what? I believe God is still doing that in hearts today.

We often hear God’s words as if they’re meant for someone else—but God is speaking to you. Don’t let the truth bounce off your walls; let it land where it belongs.

That kind of believing changes how you see yourself when you stand in front of mirrors, because you truly are fearfully and wonderfully made.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

When you hear Psalm 139:14, do you tend to think of it as a verse for yourself—or for someone else who “needs it more”? Why do you think that is?
What emotions surface when you imagine looking yourself in the eyes and saying, “I am fearfully and wonderfully made” out loud?
In what ways might unbelief—rather than insecurity—be shaping how you see yourself?
Are there truths from Scripture that you know intellectually but struggle to let land personally? What keeps them at a distance?
How might your thoughts, choices, or confidence change if you truly believed that God’s words apply fully to you?

February 2, 2026/by Bri Dunn

He’s a Wonder Working God

Daily Devotional, Kirstie Ford

Jeremiah 33:3 — Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.

I was driving home late one evening when a voice on the radio caught my attention. It was one of those stories where God captures your full focus—whether you planned on giving it or not.

A mother was sharing how God had met her in the middle of unimaginable news about her son. Doctors told her early on that her little boy would never hear. Years later, they added another diagnosis—eventual blindness. When she heard those words, disbelief washed over her.

The fear was real, but her confidence didn’t rest in her own strength. It rested in God.

In her desperation, she dropped to her knees and cried out, “I’m not leaving here until You heal my son.” More than anything, she wanted her child to experience God—to hear His voice. And now, that felt impossible.

Then she paused.

And in that stillness, God spoke: “Your son doesn’t need ears to hear Me. I speak to the heart.”

My jaw dropped. My heart swelled. Because that wasn’t just an answer—it was revelation. One of those “hidden things” God promises when we dare to call on Him.

The healing didn’t come the way she hoped, but peace did. The kind that quiets fear and settles the soul. God didn’t remove the diagnosis in that moment, but He removed the dread. And suddenly, that felt like a miracle too.

About a week later, I was working a local event for my boutique when I overheard someone mention a vendor around the corner who was deaf—and who also ran a Christian shop. I knew I had to meet her.

As we talked, she shared her story. Born deaf, she had never heard a voice—until the day God called her by name. Audibly. Clearly. For the first time in her life, she heard someone say her name.

Chills ran from head to toe.

I shared the radio story with her, and in that moment, I was reminded how alive and attentive God still is. Abundant joy comes from staying sensitive to His wonder. I never want to grow used to having a miracle-working God.

And just in case you’re wondering—the doctor’s prediction from that radio story never came true. That little boy has had no issues with his eyesight to this day.

What amazes me most isn’t just that God can do miracles—it’s that He invites us to speak to Him at all. He hears whispered prayers in moving cars. He listens to mothers on their knees. He responds in ways we never would have imagined.

God isn’t distant or distracted. And whether we think we’re equipped to hear Him or not, He knows exactly how to reach our hearts.

That’s the promise of Jeremiah 33:3: “Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.”

He doesn’t need perfect conditions to speak—He just needs open hearts willing to listen.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

When was the last time you truly called out to God—not with polished words, but with honesty and need?
Are there places in your life where you’ve assumed God won’t speak because the situation feels impossible?
How might God be answering you in a way you didn’t expect—but still deeply need?
What would it look like to listen for God’s voice with your heart, not just your circumstances?
Is there a story of God’s faithfulness—your own or someone else’s—that reminds you He still reveals “hidden things?”

February 1, 2026/by Kirstie Ford