The Connection Corner
A daily source of encouragement and inspiration to connect your heart to hope and faith.
Daily Devotional
Alone Was Never the AnswerJune 27, 2026 - 7:00 am- Packing Blessings Till They OverflowJune 26, 2026 - 7:00 am
- Mountain, Meet Your MakerJune 25, 2026 - 7:00 am
- Having Fun is Serious BusinessJune 24, 2026 - 7:00 am
- Pause Before You PostJune 23, 2026 - 7:00 am
- No Rebrand RequiredJune 22, 2026 - 7:00 am
- Daughter, I See YouJune 21, 2026 - 7:00 am
- Joy At The DoorJune 20, 2026 - 7:00 am
- Forgiveness Finds A WayJune 19, 2026 - 7:00 am
- Faith That Falls ForwardJune 18, 2026 - 7:00 am
Heart of the Artist
- Faith That Falls ForwardJune 18, 2026 - 7:00 am
- From Dusty Bibles to Daily BreadJune 14, 2026 - 7:00 am
- Leaving No SurvivorsJune 7, 2026 - 7:00 am
- When Joy Fills RoomsMay 31, 2026 - 7:00 am
- Paddleboards and PraiseMay 24, 2026 - 7:00 am
Stories About Songs
- The Beauty in the Broken RoadJune 28, 2026 - 7:00 am
- From Dusty Bibles to Daily BreadJune 14, 2026 - 7:00 am
- Leaving No SurvivorsJune 7, 2026 - 7:00 am
- When Joy Fills RoomsMay 31, 2026 - 7:00 am
- Paddleboards and PraiseMay 24, 2026 - 7:00 am
Love That Came Low
Daily Devotional, David HallThe stable smelled of straw and the faint warmth of animals. In Mary’s arms lay a newborn—small, fragile, and yet impossibly weighty in the gravity of His presence.
His breathing was soft and rhythmic, anchoring the room in a stillness Mary had never known. She laid Him gently in the manger, adjusting the swaddling as Joseph watched, eyes wide with a kind of awe that left him steadying himself against the wood.
Everything about Him felt ordinary and extraordinary all at once.
The animals shifted closer, curious and calm. Mary’s mind struggled to hold the paradox before her: this tiny, vulnerable child was the promised Messiah—the Son of God—choosing straw over a throne. She brushed her fingers across His delicate hand, and the truth settled in her chest like a weight and a wonder all at once.
Love had chosen humility.
Joseph leaned in, one hand braced against the manger. Mary watched Jesus curl His fingers the way newborns do—reaching for nothing, and yet somehow reaching for everything. Each small movement felt like a quiet declaration: heaven had entered the world without spectacle, without force, without defense.
Outside, the world slept on, unaware. But inside this simple shelter, love had lowered itself so completely that even a young mother could cradle Him without fear.
This was what the words would later try to capture:
“Though He was in the form of God, He did not consider equality with God something to be grasped. Instead, He emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant… humbling Himself to the point of death.” (Philippians 2:6–8)
But before those words were written, they were lived—first in a manger.
Mary exhaled slowly, as though her heart was finally catching up to what her hands were holding.
And somewhere in that quiet, a question began to rise.
If God Himself was willing to come this low for the sake of love…
what might that mean for us?
A MOMENT TO REFLECT
Finding Joy in Life’s Unexpected Gifts
Daily Devotional, Heart of the ArtistWhen I heard the news that we were expecting our third daughter… I nearly passed out.
There is no poetic way to say it. I was stunned. We were not trying. We were not planning. We were not even vaguely thinking about starting over. We already had two beautiful daughters, Ashlyn and Madison. Our world was full, and honestly, we were just starting to find a rhythm again. Nights were quiet, diapers were a memory, and the laundry pile was almost manageable.
So, yes. Shock. Real, physical, sit-down-before-you-fall-over shock.
But over the next few days, something in me softened. The disbelief did not disappear, but it made room for a different kind of feeling.
I started remembering all the small, sacred things from when our girls were babies. The slow sway of rocking them to sleep. The weight of their tiny heads tucked under my chin. The feeling that the rest of the world could wait—because in that moment, I was their whole world. Those memories came back like old songs I had not heard in a while, and they settled in my chest with a warmth I had not expected.
And now? Now I find myself getting excited. Truly, tenderly, deeply excited.
Fittingly, this baby is due to arrive at Christmas. And the timing does not feel random. It feels… personal. Intentional. Like something only God could orchestrate.
It has made me think a lot about Joseph. The one from Scripture. The carpenter. The man who had plans of his own—plans that were disrupted overnight by news he could not have seen coming. I imagine he asked a lot of the same questions I have asked.
How do I love this child well? Will I have what it takes to provide for this family? What kind of man do I need to become for this child?
Joseph did not get all the answers upfront. But he trusted. He obeyed. He stood by Mary, and he raised a child that changed the world.
And that part—that quiet, steady willingness to lean into the unexpected—that is what gets me.
Because here is what I am learning: some of God’s greatest gifts do not come wrapped in the timing we expect. They show up unannounced, inconvenient, and completely out of sync with our plans.
But that does not make them any less beautiful.
This surprise has reminded me that God’s fingerprints are often clearest on the things we never saw coming. And if I had stayed locked in my fear, I might have missed the joy buried inside this unexpected gift.
It reminds me so much of what scripture says in Proverbs 5, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths.”
So, if your life just took a turn you did not plan for—if you are staring down something that makes your knees weak—do not rush to fix it. Do not run from it. Lean in. Let it sit with you long enough for the joy to rise.
You never know what goodness God has tucked inside the surprise.
— Chris Tomlin
A MOMENT TO REFLECT
Tiny Gifts, Big Riches
Daily Devotional, David HallI remember the story Penny shared about a Christmas when money was scarce, and she had three daughters counting on her. She prayed openly, asking God for a way to make the morning feel like a celebration, even if the gifts were small.
Her solution was simple but perfect. Instead of gifts, she spent less than fifty dollars on little trinkets, wrapped them, and hid them throughout the house. She wrote clues on index cards and turned her home into a treasure hunt.
On Christmas morning, she handed the first clue to her daughters. The house erupted with sound. Feet hit floors. Voices bounced off walls. Each small treasure found became a prize. Each discovery turned into a shared favorite memory.
Penny watched her daughters and realized that joy can arrive in small packages. Laughter and excitement filled the holes in their family’s hearts that riches could not reach.
Later, Penny reflected on the lessons those lean years taught her daughters and herself — lessons that stayed with them long after the gifts were gone:
Toward the end of the story, she shared a verse with me, the one she had read to her girls each Christmas: Colossians 3:16. “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God.” That moment tied everything together.
It reminded her—and me—that they were never poor. Not then. Not now. Every Advent season, I return to that line. If the Word dwells in us, if gratitude fills our homes, and if He is already here celebrating with us, who among us could ever not call ourselves rich?
A MOMENT TO REFLECT