The Connection Corner

Tell Your Heart to Beat Again

Psalms 73:26 – My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart; he is mine forever.

They tell me the smell of an operating room stays with you.

Cold. Sharp. Like steel and lemon.

Randy Phillips wasn’t a surgeon. He was a pastor and a singer in the band Phillips, Craig & Dean. But there he was, watching a friend perform open-heart surgery in an Ohio hospital. The lights were white-hot, the room too quiet except for the patient’s heart monitor, and every movement felt like it had been rehearsed a thousand times.

The repair was finished. The surgeon massaged the heart gently, coaxing it to life.

Nothing.

He tried again. Still nothing. That silence was deafening, like the whole room was holding its breath.

Then the surgeon did something strange. He pulled off his mask, bent down close to the patient’s ear, and said in the kind of voice you’d use to redirect a scared child.

“Mrs. Johnson, this is your surgeon. The operation went perfectly. Your heart has been repaired. Now tell your heart to beat again.”

And it did.

That moment followed Randy home to Nashville. It wouldn’t let him go. So, he sat down with Bernie Herms and Matthew West, and they turned a hospital whisper into a song. Phillips, Craig & Dean first recorded “Tell Your Heart to Beat Again” for their Breathe In album.

Years later, Danny Gokey heard it. He was carrying his own grief, and the song felt like it had been written just for him. He recorded his version in 2014, and by 2016 it was climbing the charts. But the real story was in the people writing letters and sending messages back—widows, widowers, and others who had lost children, jobs, health, and hope.

They’d play the song on repeat. Some said it got them out of bed in the morning. Some said it kept them from giving up entirely.

And I think about that surgeon’s whisper. Sometimes God works the same way—not with a shout or a lightning bolt, but with a quiet nudge in your ear. A reminder that there is still life left in you. That it’s time to breathe.

And maybe that’s where you are right now. Maybe the room feels cold and the silence is heavy. But the Surgeon hasn’t left. He’s leaning in close.

And He’s telling your heart to beat again.

Lyrics

You’re shattered like you’ve never been before
The life you knew in a thousand pieces on the floor
And words fall short in times like these
When this world drives you to your knees
You think you’re never gonna get back
To the you that used to be

Tell your heart to beat again
Close your eyes and breathe it in
Let the shadows fall away
Step into the light of grace
Yesterday’s a closing door
You don’t live there anymore
Say goodbye to where you’ve been
And tell your heart to beat again

Beginning, just let that word wash over you
It’s alright now, love’s healing hands have pulled you through
So get back up, take step one
Leave the darkness, feel the sun
‘Cause your story’s far from over
And your journey’s just begun

Tell your heart to beat again
Close your eyes and breathe it in
Let the shadows fall away
Step into the light of grace
Yesterday’s a closing door
You don’t live there anymore
Say goodbye to where you’ve been
And tell your heart to beat again

Let every heartbreak, and every scar
Be a picture that reminds you
Who has carried you this far
‘Cause love sees farther than you ever could
In this moment, heaven’s working
Everything for your good

Tell your heart to beat again
Close your eyes and breathe it in
Let the shadows fall away
Step into the light of grace
Yesterday’s a closing door
You don’t live there anymore
Say goodbye to where you’ve been
And tell your heart to beat again

Your heart to beat again
Beat again

Oh
So tell your heart to beat again

Songwriters: Bernie Herms / Randy Phillips / Matthew Joseph West

September 21, 2025/by Tammi Arender

Trusting God on the Road Ahead

Daily Devotional, Heart of the Artist, Stories About Songs

Psalms 37:23 – The Lord directs the steps of the godly. He delights in every detail of their lives.

You’d be surprised how much thinking a man can get done behind the wheel of a sausage delivery truck.

All day long, rumbling across southeast Texas, I’d pass pine trees, small-town diners, and gas stations that sold boiled peanuts. I’d be wondering things like, “What’s next?” and “Am I out of my mind?”

It’s not the kind of pondering that comes with a side of confidence. No, this was the “Did I just ruin my life?” kind. I had quit my youth pastor job, sold half of what I owned, and crammed my wife and three kids into a single-wide trailer so I could haul my guitar around Texas and sing songs I’d written.

Nobody in Buna, Texas, where I’m from, had ever called that a solid business plan.

And truth be told, I didn’t know how to be a “professional musician.” I only knew I had to step out in faith.

I started with two rules for writing songs. Rule one: they had to line up with Scripture—no exceptions. If God didn’t say it, I didn’t want to sing it. Rule two: the songs had to be honest. If I hadn’t lived it, I couldn’t write it.

That meant some songs had to wait their turn, because there are lessons you can’t write until you’ve bled through it yourself.

Night after night, I’d play to small crowds in church gyms and fellowship halls. Sometimes folks would come up after and say, “That song… it’s like you knew what I was going through.” And I’d think, “Friend, you don’t know how much I needed to hear it too.”

Years later, my life looks different—bigger venues, more miles, more people. But the passion and the drive haven’t changed a lick from those sausage truck days.

Turns out, God doesn’t need us to see the whole road before we start driving.

He just asks us to be faithful where we are. So, choose to be faithful with what God has given you. Somewhere down the line, you’ll look back and realize—He’s been faithful the whole way.

— Micah Tyler

Lyrics:

You know I really tried so hard
But I couldn’t make the waters part
Didn’t matter how many times that I had said it
You know I couldn’t save myself
It had to be someone else
And there’s only one who’s getting all of the credit
God did it

Who put the breath in my lungs
Who calls us daughters and sons
All praise goes to just one
God did it, God did it
Who raised me up from that grave
Who’s always making a way
Let me hear the whole church say
God did it, God did it

You can blame it on amazing grace
I could count about a million ways
That I’m not who I was and I don’t regret it
And now you know I’m walking free
Since heaven got a hold of me
It’s the moment my life changed
How could I forget it
God did it

To God be the glory
To God be the glory
To God be the glory
For all He has done
New mercy each morning
Rewriting my story
To God be the glory
For all He has done

September 20, 2025/by David Hall

Counting on God a Latte

Daily Devotional, Tammi Arender

Isaiah 41:10 – Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand.

It was just spilled coffee.

Just a brown splash stain on a dress that wasn’t new and wasn’t even my favorite. But there I stood, blinking fast, tears mixing with the moisture from my coffee cup that’s now staining the fabric.

It wasn’t the coffee that got to me. It was that this was “one more thing.”

These days, I’ve turned into a clumsy, uncoordinated mess. I trip over nothing. I drop phones, books, and water bottles. Cups seem to leap from my hands before I even know I’ve lost my grip.

I read once that older folks become more prone to this. Something about damaged nerve endings that don’t send the right messages to the brain.

The balance and coordination that once happened without thinking now require effort.

I used to be steady. Steady as she goes. I could tie my shoes without leaning against anything. I could walk across the room without wondering if the floor would feel different under my feet.

My feet have always been my foundation. Without a good foundation, nothing else works the way it should.

And yet… the coffee in my lap reminded me of my only real foundation. My only steady thing. Jesus.

I wish aging didn’t come with so many humbling reminders of what I can’t do anymore. But maybe those reminders aren’t the worst thing. Maybe they’re the reason I keep leaning harder on Him.

I know someday I’ll walk without effort again. One day I’ll get a new body in Heaven, one with the balance of an Olympic gymnast. My steps will be sure, and my hands will hold things without slipping.

Until then, I’ll keep sipping my coffee and holding on to the One who never lets me down. And I invite you to, too.

September 19, 2025/by Tammi Arender