The Connection Corner

Giving From What You’ve Received

Hebrews 13:16 – “Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.”

Rhonda poured coffee into her favorite mug. The radio hummed softly in the background, like a friend who knew too much but didn’t judge.

For twenty years, Christian radio had been there. Even in the mornings when the dishes were piled high, and when her children squabbled over cereal bowls. Even during her divorce, when everything she’d relied on felt like it was made of paper and could tear at any moment.

She had to pause her monthly giving back then. It hurt more than she expected. Not because the money was gone, but because that act of giving had been a rhythm that told her she was still a person who could extend kindness into the world.

But she never turned the station off. The songs still poured over her, spilling over laundry piles and homework papers. They reminded her of promises she had almost forgotten existed—things like God’s nearness, God’s faithfulness, and God’s care.

Years later, life had shifted in ways that were subtle and miraculous all at once. Bills balanced themselves more easily. Mornings felt lighter. Her heart no longer clenched at the sound of the phone ringing.

She could give again, and more than she ever had before. And as she clicked “submit” on her monthly donation, she realized it wasn’t about the money at all. It was about gratitude. It was about honoring the lifeline that had held her steady when she felt untethered.

The songs hadn’t just played. They had whispered that she could endure. That peace was possible. That even when life felt like it might unravel, God used her radio to help carry her all along.

And maybe that’s the thing: when something has carried you through the hard parts, it’s worth passing it on. Whether it’s a song, a word of encouragement, or a small act of generosity, there’s power in saying, “I remember how this felt, and I want someone else to know they can make it too.”

August 19, 2025/by Sarah Hall

Trusting Through the Thorns

Daily Devotional, Tammi Arender

Romans 8:18 — “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.”

Honeysuckle and honey bees.

Growing up in the country, I could spend hours walking the fence line of our horse pasture. That stretch of land was thick with flowers and wild blackberries. I would breathe in the honeysuckle—it was the kind of aroma you want to bottle up and keep forever.

I would pick blackberries until my fingers were stained purple. The metal bowl clinked with every drop. Then I would take them inside to Mama. She would pour evaporated milk over them and sprinkle sugar on top. That bowl was better than Dairy Queen—better than anything, really.

But those berries did not come easy. The vines were full of stickers and prickers. To pick even a small bowl meant taking your time, moving slow, steady, and careful. If you got in a hurry or grabbed too quick, those thorns would draw blood.

It took precision. Patience. A little pain, too. But again, it was worth the scratches.

The older I get, the more I see how life works the same way. It will poke and prod and prick you along the way—especially when you dare to dream big, when you want to follow what God has placed on your heart. He never promised a smooth path. He never said the thorns would not come. But He did say He would be with you.

So if the road feels rough today, if your hands feel scratched from doing the right thing—keep going. The reward is real. The sweetness is still ahead.

August 18, 2025/by Tammi Arender

This is My Jesus

Daily Devotional, Heart of the Artist, Stories About Songs

Psalms 56:8 — “You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?”

It was the kind of pain that makes everything else stop. My brother Jacob had died in a car accident. He was only 23.

I did not know how to process it, but I could write. That was how it started, just me and a journal. At the end of each entry, I would write that God had gotten me through one more day of tragedy.

Years passed, and I began writing songs. One day, I pulled out those old journals and flipped through page after page. That is when it hit me: I had never once in my writing used the phrase “God” or “Lord.” Every single time, I had written, “My Jesus.”

I asked God why. Why that name? Why always that phrase?

And what I sensed—clear as anything—was Him saying, “Because I am yours, and you are mine.”

I remember the sweetness of that moment. The kindness in it.

A few days later, I had a writing session planned. I brought that phrase with me, and it became the starting point for a song called “My Jesus.”

He was the whole reason I had survived those painful years. God had not been distant in my grief. He had been beside me, holding me up every step of the way.

I do not know what you have walked through. Maybe you have buried someone. Maybe you are still trying to breathe through the fog of grief. I want you to know this: Jesus can be personal for you too because he’s not just a name in a book or a distant deity.

He can be your Jesus.

And if all you can manage today is to whisper that one phrase, let me tell you, that is enough.

— Anne Wilson

LYRICS:

Are you past the point of weary
Is your burden weighing heavy
Is it all too much to carry
Let me tell you ‘bout my Jesus
Do you feel that empty feeling
‘Cause shame’s done all its stealing
And you’re desperate for some healing
Let me tell you ‘bout my Jesus

He makes a way where there ain’t no way
Rises up from an empty grave
Ain’t no sinner that He can’t save
Let me tell you ‘bout my Jesus
His love is strong and His grace is free
And the good news is I know that He
Can do for you what He’s done for me
Let me tell you ‘bout my Jesus
And let my Jesus change your life
Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, amen, amen

Who can wipe away the tears
From broken dreams and wasted years
And tell the past to disappear
Let me tell you ‘bout my Jesus
And all the wrong turns that you would
Go and undo if you could
Who can work it all for your good
Let me tell you about my Jesus

Who would take my cross to Calvary
Pay the price for all my guilty
Who would care that much about me
Let me tell you ‘bout my Jesus

August 17, 2025/by David Hall