The Connection Corner

Thankful For Sandpaper People

Colossians 3:13 — Make allowance for each other’s faults, and forgive anyone who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others.

I 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

Who are the “sandpaper people” in your life right now—and how might God be using them to shape your character?
When has someone shown you grace when you didn’t deserve it? How did that affect you?
How can you practice “making allowance” for someone’s faults this week in a practical way?
What happens to your heart when you shift from irritation to gratitude toward the people who test your patience?
How does remembering God’s forgiveness toward you change the way you respond to others?

November 15, 2025/by Tammi Arender

Let Him Do the Work

Bri Dunn, Daily Devotional

Psalm 51:10 — Create in me a clean heart, O God. Renew a loyal spirit within me.

Weekends 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

What “surface-level” habits or attitudes might you be using to cover up something God wants to clean deeper in your heart?
Why is it sometimes easier to “smell good” spiritually than to let God sweep away the mess underneath?
How does it make you feel to know that God meets you in the mess rather than waiting for you to fix it first?
What would it look like this week to invite God to “renew a right spirit” in you — in your home, work, or relationships?
Who might need encouragement today to know that God is patient in their process of being renewed?

November 14, 2025/by Bri Dunn

Life Is Better Together

Daily Devotional, David Hall

Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 – Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up!

When I was twenty-two, I packed up my life and moved to Alabama for Bible school. I pictured calm mornings reading my Bible, a bit of solitude, and space to figure out my life.

Instead, I got fifteen roommates.

You see, one of the dorms across campus was still under construction so they packed all of us under one roof. I don’t know if you can picture that many men in a six bedroom house, but it was wild.

The walls were thin so there was always noise— laughter, footsteps, someone playing music way too loud. There was no real privacy, no way to escape the chaos, and I just had to keep reminding myself this was temporary.

At first, I was frustrated. I couldn’t retreat into myself like I was accustomed to. But little by little, that crowded house started to change me.

Our resident advisor, Dougie, led weekly Bible studies that became the heartbeat of our little house. We prayed together, wrestled with truth, joked through exhaustion, and reminded each other to keep showing up.

In between the noise and the shared meals and the endless laundry, something steady was forming — a kind of community I had never known before.

I could not isolate myself when I wanted to, but I actually found that was a good thing. Other people were always there for me — just like Scripture teaches, ‘Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil.’” Instead of retreating, God had put people in my life I could talk to when I felt insecure, aggravated, or ashamed. And it made all the difference.

Two months later, when most of the guys moved out, I felt something I did not expect — grief. I had come to love that loud, messy, inconvenient community. It had shaped me. It sharpened me. And it taught me that life is not meant to be navigated alone.

It also reminds me of how the first followers of Jesus lived — the way they shared everything, broke bread together, prayed side by side, and carried each other’s burdens. There was beauty in the simplicity of it, in how natural it was to belong to one another.

That picture from Acts has always stayed with me. They were people doing life together too. They were finding joy in the mess of faith and friendship.

Looking back now, I wonder: when was the last time I truly leaned into the discomfort of biblical community and let it shape me? And maybe the better question is: what might happen if I did it again? And I hope you will ask yourself that too.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

When has God used community to encourage or challenge you in a season when you wanted to be alone?
Who in your life lifts you up when you fall — and how might you do the same for them this week?
Are there areas where you’ve been trying to handle life on your own that God might be calling you to share with someone?
What makes true biblical community both messy and beautiful?
How can you be more intentional about leaning into the kind of connection that shapes your faith?

November 13, 2025/by David Hall