The Connection Corner
A daily source of encouragement and inspiration to connect your heart to hope and faith.
Daily Devotional
The Sound of Two CoinsOctober 27, 2026 - 7:00 am
Running Low, But Not Running OutOctober 26, 2026 - 7:00 am
Tree Climber TheologyOctober 25, 2026 - 7:00 am
Ten Dollars Well SpentOctober 24, 2026 - 12:30 pm
Crossroads of HopeOctober 23, 2026 - 7:00 am
The Story You’ll Never HearOctober 22, 2026 - 7:00 am
Hope at Register ThreeOctober 21, 2026 - 7:00 am
More Than a Nice ThoughtOctober 20, 2026 - 7:00 am
The Hundred-Dollar HandshakeOctober 19, 2026 - 7:00 am
Before the Answer CameOctober 18, 2026 - 7:00 am
HEART OF THE ARTIST
Because Somebody PrayedSeptember 27, 2026 - 7:00 am
The Secret to Being BlessedSeptember 6, 2026 - 7:00 am
The Hardest HallelujahAugust 30, 2026 - 7:00 am
Meet Me in the ValleyAugust 9, 2026 - 7:00 am
Holding on Through HeartbreakJuly 5, 2026 - 7:00 am
STORIES ABOUT SONGS
Stuck Is Not Your StorySeptember 20, 2026 - 9:30 am
Come As You AreSeptember 13, 2026 - 7:00 am- The Hardest HallelujahAugust 30, 2026 - 7:00 am
The Fight Nobody SeesAugust 23, 2026 - 7:00 am
One Way Through the ChaosJuly 26, 2026 - 7:00 am
Stories About Songs
- Stuck Is Not Your StorySeptember 20, 2026 - 9:30 am
- Come As You AreSeptember 13, 2026 - 7:00 am
- The Hardest HallelujahAugust 30, 2026 - 7:00 am
- The Fight Nobody SeesAugust 23, 2026 - 7:00 am
- One Way Through the ChaosJuly 26, 2026 - 7:00 am
Who Gets Your Yes
Brendan McClain, Daily DevotionalBoink.
That was the sound of me body-slamming my arch enemy.
Luke was built like a seventh grader. My scrawny fifth-grade self had no chance.
I don’t even know why I hated him. I just remember my friends venting about him during our daily bathroom break. Somewhere between their complaints and my own pride, I started praying that God would give me the strength to knock him unconscious.
With great love and mercy, He denied my request.
Instead, I awkwardly flailed around while the entire school drank a big cup of secondhand embarrassment. It ended with me flat on my back in the middle of the kickball field.
But do you know what? My real problem wasn’t Luke. It was my pride and the voices I was listening to.
I wasn’t defending justice. I wasn’t standing up for truth. I was presenting myself—my hands, strength, and energy—to serve that grudge controlling me.
And that’s how it always works.
But that’s not who I am anymore—I’ve been given a new life, and that changes what I do with it.
Sin doesn’t kick the door down. It whispers. It invites. It says, “This will feel good. This will make you strong. This will prove something.”
In scripture, we are warned not to let sin reign in our lives and not to hand over our bodies as an instrument for unrighteousness. Instead, offer yourselves to God—like people who’ve been brought from death to life—and let every part of you become an instrument for what is right.
You see, if we keep letting the wrong things control us, that’s playground theology with adult consequences.
If we don’t decide who we belong to, the loudest voice will decide for us.
Look at Jesus on His way to the cross. The crowd was loud. The pressure was real. The easy path would have been to bend and protect Himself or to give the people what they wanted in the moment.
He didn’t. He refused to let the crowd steer His obedience. He would not offer Himself to the spirit of the mob. Every step He took was aligned with His Father’s will.
Just as Jesus refused to follow the crowd’s destructive voices on His way to the cross, we must resist worldly influences and walk in God’s wisdom instead.
So today I want to encourage you, before you repost, before you repeat the joke, or before you step into that compromising conversation—pause. Ask yourself whose voice you want to follow. Offer your life to God and tune out the rest.
Because sin will always shout, but you don’t have to answer to it.
A MOMENT TO REFLECT
Light After the Night
Brenda Price, Daily DevotionalI picture Mary Magdalene sitting outside the tomb on Easter morning, and my heart goes out to her.
She was crushed with grief. Certain that all hope was gone. Alone, heartbroken, confused. Jesus had died… and it felt like everything ended with Him.
And then, suddenly, everything changed.
Jesus appeared to her—alive. He called her by name, and in an instant, her tears turned to joy.
That moment… that’s Easter.
And it feels so personal, because we all know what it’s like to sit in sorrow—when prayers feel unanswered and hope feels buried under something we can’t fix.
But Scripture reminds us of a deeper truth: “Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.” (Psalm 30:5)
Mary’s story is proof.
Sometimes it’s in our darkest moments that God is preparing to shine His brightest light. The night may feel long, but it is never the end of the story.
Maybe you’ve been walking through a night season too. Hold on to this: morning is coming. And when Jesus speaks your name—when His presence meets you right where you are—joy breaks in. Not a shallow happiness, but a deep, restoring joy that’s stronger than the pain that came before.
And just like Mary, your story won’t end in sorrow. It will become a testimony—one you’ll carry to someone else who needs hope.
Because God has a way of turning our deepest grief into our most powerful story of redemption.
A MOMENT TO REFLECT
Saturday Isn’t the End
Daily Devotional, David HallThey had done everything they could.
Jesus of Nazareth was dead. The threat removed. A problem solved.
For years, the religious leaders had tolerated His disruptions—the way He drew crowds, defied their tradition, and unsettled power. Now the Romans had driven the nails, and His body lay sealed in a tomb.
Finally, they could move on.
And yet His claim lingered: after three days, He would rise.
If the disciples stole the body, then rumors would start. If hope caught fire again, then they would have a worse problem than before.
So, the religious leaders went to Pilate.
The governor was finished with the whole ordeal. “You have a guard,” he said. “Make it as secure as you know how.”
So, they did.
They secured the tomb and posted guards. They believed control would secure their future. But control is a fragile god.
The real and living God had already spoken of a day when He would swallow up death forever, when He would wipe away tears from all faces, and when the reproach of His people would be taken away from all the earth.
No tomb could undo that promise. No empire could outlast it.
Sunday was already on its way.
But you know, we all have Saturdays that still feel like that. Don’t we? Long stretches where hope seems buried and God feels silent. Diagnoses. Broken relationships. Prayers that echo back unanswered.
And in every one of those places, He is not distant—He is the God who sees every tear and promises to wipe them away.
But if Rome’s authority could not hold Him nor the grave silence Him, nor death itself stand its ground, then nothing in your waiting can prevent God from accomplishing what He has promised.
The tomb was secured. The guards were posted. The seal was real. And morning still came.
So hold steady in your Saturday. Your Sunday is coming too. Trust in God who swallows death. Because friend, the stone will not have the final word.
A MOMENT TO REFLECT