The Connection Corner

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

When Obedience Becomes the Strategy

Isaiah 40:29 — He gives power to the weak and strength to the powerless.

I can’t stop thinking about how fascinating the stories in the Bible really are.

I’m sitting with my Bible open, mid-afternoon light slipping across the room, and I land back in the story of Gideon. I’ve read it so many times before, but this time it feels different—like it’s reading me right back.

Gideon starts with a decent-sized army. Thirty-two thousand men. That’s not small. That’s comforting. That’s the kind of number that lets you breathe a little easier when you know a fight is coming, and then God says something that makes absolutely no sense. “It’s too many.”

I can’t help but picture Gideon blinking at the sky, thinking, “Lord… have You seen their army?” Because if I’m honest, I’ve said that same thing—about my finances, my energy, my confidence, my resources. Too many is not the problem. Too few is.

But God keeps trimming. He sends some home. Then more. Then comes that strange moment by the water where God trims them down even more based on how they drank water—and suddenly Gideon is standing there with three hundred soldiers left. Three hundred. Against an enemy that should have crushed them.

I imagine the awkward silence. The weight of it. Three hundred people holding torches and clay pots, not swords. This is not the kind of strategy you brag about. This is the kind you only follow if you trust the One who gave it.

And when they do exactly what God says shattering their pots and sounding the trumpets, the enemy panics and runs. This was no clever military strategy or show of strength. No, it was just obedience, and God does the rest. He gave that ragtag band of three hundred men victory.

That’s when I think about how scripture tells us “He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.” Isaiah 40:29. Did you see that? He gives strength not after we get stronger. Not once we feel ready. But right in the middle of our lack.

God has never been impressed by our numbers. He’s interested in our trust.

So today, whatever feels trimmed down in your life—your energy, your options, your confidence—don’t despise it. Hold it faithfully. Step forward anyway. Let God put His strength on full display through what feels painfully small, and walk in the confidence that the victory was never meant to come from you.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

Where in your life do you feel “trimmed down” right now—emotionally, financially, spiritually, or relationally?
How have you been measuring readiness or success by numbers, strength, or resources instead of trust?
What might God be inviting you to do in obedience, even though you don’t feel fully equipped?
How does knowing that God gives strength in weakness—not after it—change how you view your limitations today?

January 28, 2026/by Brenda Price

Detours, Delays, and a Faithful God

Bri Dunn, Daily Devotional

Philippians 1:6 — And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.

He hasn’t failed me yet, and He’s not about to start on a random Tuesday in Monroe.

I’m driving downtown on the way to work, just me and the steady hum of my tires, when I realize something feels different. I’m not slowing down for cones. I’m also not squinting at orange signs trying to figure out which surprise detour I’ve been assigned today.

I’m just… driving. Straight through downtown. No construction. No rerouting. No frustration rising in my chest. If you’ve lived here the last few years, you know that’s kind of a miracle.

For the longest time, downtown felt like a maze. Constant construction. Constant “nope, not this way.” Shortcut here. Detour there. Reroute, reroute, reroute. It got so familiar that it felt permanent. This was just how things were now.

I even remember, a little over a year ago, getting out of the car to move and replace cones just so I could get to work. And I was pregnant! But that’s how badly I wanted and needed this construction to move forward.

But today as I drove through the beautiful, finished streets, gratitude washed over me. No, not because the wait was easy, but because it finally made sense. The construction wasn’t punishment. It wasn’t neglect. It was preparation. It was necessary work beneath the surface so the road could actually be ready for what was coming next.

Haven’t we all had seasons like that? Where life feels permanently under construction. Where you’re asking God, “Am I ever going to get to use what You’ve put in me? Or am I just always going to be a work in progress?” Where it feels like everyone else is cruising and you’re still dodging caution cones.

Philippians 1:6 says it plainly: “He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” He will not abandon it. Not rush it. Complete it.

That verse isn’t just comforting—it’s a firm foundation. It means God doesn’t leave projects half-finished, and it means the season you’re in right now is not wasted, even if it’s inconvenient and slow.

So, here’s the invitation. I’m taking it, and I hope you will too. Let God do His work in you. Don’t rush the cones out of the way. Don’t despise the detours. Trust that the road will open when it’s ready—and when it does, it will be strong enough to carry everything God’s prepared for you.

The wait is part of the goodness. And the finished work will be worth it.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

Where in your life does it feel like you’re stuck in a season of “constant construction” right now?
How have you been tempted to rush God’s process or compare your progress to others’?
What would it look like to trust that the delays and detours are part of God’s preparation, not His absence?
How does believing that God always finishes what He starts change the way you view your current season?

January 27, 2026/by Bri Dunn

The Road That Let Me Breathe Again

Brenda Price, Daily Devotional

Psalms 31:7-8 — I will be glad and rejoice in your unfailing love, for you have seen my troubles, and you care about the anguish of my soul. You have not handed me over to my enemies but have set me in a safe place.

Sometimes you don’t need a five-year plan. You just need your keys and a full tank of gas.

That’s where I was that weekend. Life felt crazy. School deadlines stacked up, responsibilities kept tugging at my sleeve, and even though I go to college online, the pressure still somehow followed me everywhere. I was tired in that way that sleep doesn’t fix, where your soul just wants to exhale.

I didn’t need answers. I needed air.

So late Friday afternoon, I did something mildly irresponsible on paper but wildly responsible for my sanity. I jumped in my car. No big speech or overthinking. Just me and my dog, riding shotgun with that goofy smile dogs get when they know something good is about to happen.

The road stretched out in front of us. We were Oklahoma-bound, toward my best friend from high school and her little farm.

As the miles passed, the mental noise didn’t immediately quiet down. My mind tried to drag school assignments and stress into the passenger seat. Part of me wondered if I should’ve stayed home and pushed through. But another part of me—quieter, wiser—knew this wasn’t avoidance. It was permission. Permission to pause. Permission to breathe. Permission to trust that God doesn’t only meet us in productivity.

When I finally pulled onto that gravel drive, something changed. Laughter came easier. The air felt lighter. We talked, we rested, we did nothing important, and somehow, that was everything. I didn’t have to manufacture joy. It met me there. It always does when I stop gripping life so tightly.

That night, sitting still for the first time in weeks, I was reminded of words I’ve known for a long time but needed to feel again:

“I will rejoice and be glad in your faithful love because you have seen my affliction. You know the troubles of my soul and have not handed me over to the enemy. You have set my feet in a spacious place.” Psalm 31:7–8

That’s it. God sees the tired places. He knows the weight we carry. And sometimes His kindness looks like open roads, old friends, and wide open, holy space for your heart to rest.

I came home refreshed, not because I escaped my responsibilities, but because God met me right in the middle of them. He knew what I needed before I did.

So here’s the invitation—simple and real. Pay attention to your weariness. Let yourself take a small, intentional pause. Call the friend. Step outside. Take the drive. Trust that God is not disappointed in your need for rest. He is the One who sets your feet in spacious places, and He delights in refreshing the souls He loves.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

Where do you feel most weary or overwhelmed right now, and how have you been responding to that weight?
What does a “spacious place” look like for you in this season—physically, emotionally, or spiritually?
Are there ways God may be inviting you to pause or rest that you’ve been resisting out of responsibility or guilt?
How does knowing that God sees the anguish of your soul change the way you approach your need for rest today?

January 26, 2026/by Brenda Price