The Connection Corner

A daily source of encouragement and inspiration to connect your heart to hope and faith.

Persuasively Persistent

Matthew 7:7 — Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you.

As a mom of two young children, I would be rich if I got a dollar every time I heard the phrase, “Mom, can I have ______?” Even after saying the dreadful, life-altering, meltdown provoking word, “NO,” my children relentlessly approach me- asking the same question. They simply won’t take no for an answer.

While they’re learning to respect boundaries, I’ll admit that sometimes I give in—not because thea answer changed, but because they didn’t give up. Watching them has taught me something about faith. They ask boldly and don’t assume “no” means never.

God used my children to gently remind me of his fatherly character, and I began reflecting on the way I have approached God. More times than I’d like to admit-I asked once, hear no—or silence—and quietly retreat. Maybe you can relate?

Jesus’ words in Matthew 7:7 began to challenge that pattern: “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.”

That’s not a one-time request. It’s not a hesitant whisper. No, it’s a continual posture of asking, seeking, and knocking. It is trusting the heart of the God who wants to answer us.

There is no coincidence that Luke chapter 18 consecutively tells of the parable of the persistent widow and the story of the little children coming to Jesus. God encourages us to always pray and not give up; the same way the widow approached the judge with her plea.

She persisted instead of retreating, until she got justice. Our Heavenly father tells us to approach him the same way the little children approached Jesus; with childlike faith instead of hindrance.

The next time you pray, I challenge you to approach God more like little children approach their parents and the widow approached the judge. Bold. Persistent. Willing to ask again. And to approach our Heavenly father with the childlike faith the little children approached Jesus with; confident that even when the answer isn’t what we hoped for, He is still listening—and still good.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

Where have I stopped asking God because I didn’t like the first answer — or the silence?
Is there a prayer I quietly gave up on that I need to bring back to Him?
Do I approach God with hesitation… or with childlike trust?
Have I mistaken “wait” for “no”?
What would it look like for me to keep knocking instead of walking away?
Do I truly believe my Heavenly Father is good — even when His answer isn’t what I hoped for?
Where is God inviting me to be bold and persistent in prayer right now?

February 16, 2026/by Kirstie Ford

The Shepherd and the Black Sheep

Daily Devotional, Stories About Songs

Matthew 18:12 — If a man has a hundred sheep and one of them wanders away, what will he do? Won’t he leave the ninety-nine others on the hills and go out to search for the one that is lost?

Ben Fuller is standing in a church aisle in Nashville. From the outside, he looks fine. But inside, he’s still that little kid from Virginia waiting to hear his father say, I’m proud of you.

He always claimed he didn’t need help. But that wasn’t true. He was just learning how to numb the pain.

A knee injury opened the door to pain pills. Pills became escape. Escape turned into addiction.

Ben learned to hide it well—just enough work, charm, and money to keep things afloat. He convinced himself—and everyone else—that he was fine.

But eventually, “fine” fell apart.

Bills slipped. Relationships crumbled. Rehab didn’t stick. Not even losing his best friend to fentanyl stopped the spiral. By the time he moved to Nashville in 2018 to chase music, the deeper battle wasn’t just addiction.

It was the belief that he was too far gone.

Then God showed up.

At a dinner table.

A family from Vermont, already living in Nashville, invited Ben over. No agenda. Just food and kindness. They invited him to church, and he said yes—mostly out of courtesy. Raised on a dairy farm, he figured when someone does something kind, you return it.

That’s how he ended up in that church aisle.

By Easter Sunday, he was exhausted. Tired of drinking. Tired of broken relationships. Tired of pretending he could fix himself.

At the altar, he stopped running.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

What met him there wasn’t condemnation.

It was relief.

Jesus once told a story:

“If a man has a hundred sheep and one of them wanders away… won’t he leave the ninety-nine… and go out to search for the one that is lost?” — Matthew 18:12

Ben realized something life-changing that day: he had never been invisible. His wandering had been noticed. The Shepherd hadn’t given up on him. God didn’t wait for him to clean himself up or find his way back.

God came after him.

His song “Black Sheep” was born from that rescue—a reminder for anyone who feels out of place or beyond saving. Now, five years sober, Ben sings it in prisons and broken places as living proof that there is no saint without a past and no sinner without a future.

Because God doesn’t run away from runaways.

The Shepherd still searches. Still calls names. Still leaves the ninety-nine for the one.

And maybe today, that one is you.

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

Have you ever believed you were too far gone for God to reach? What fueled that belief?
How does Matthew 18:12 change the way you see God’s pursuit of you?
Who in your life might feel like the “one” right now—and how can you reflect the Shepherd’s heart toward them?
What would it look like for you to stop running and receive God’s grace today?

Lyrics:

Oooooh
Oooooh
Oooooh

You broke through a thousand fences
Been rescued from a thousand ditches
You still swear you don’t fit in
So you kick and scream and you’re gone again
Wandering off into the devil’s wind

But how’s it going out there
Acting like you ain’t scared
How’s that heart of stone
Ain’t so hard when you’re alone
Crying tears you hope nobody sees
Guess the Good News is He’ll never leave you be
Jesus loves you black sheep

You hate everything about you
You think we’re better off without you
You wear your pain out on your sleeve
And you paint it on in rebel ink
But the alcohol and pills ain’t fixed a thing

How’s it going out there
Acting like you ain’t scared
How’s that heart of stone
It ain’t so hard when you’re alone
Crying tears you hope nobody sees
Guess the Good News is He’ll never leave you be
Jesus loves you black sheep

Oooooh
Oooooh
Oooooh

Jesus loves you black sheep

Oooooh
Oooooh
Oooooh

Can’t tell you when, I ain’t no prophet
But there’ll come a point in time when you can’t stop it
The Good Shepherd’s love smells like smoke
There ain’t no hell so low
Where He won’t let the hounds of Heaven go
Sic ‘em, let the hounds of Heaven go

So how’s it going out there
Acting like you ain’t scared
How’s that heart of stone
Ain’t so hard when you’re alone
Crying tears you hope nobody sees
Guess the Good News is He’ll never leave you be

And amazing grace is a pesky pesky thing
But the Good News is He’ll never leave you be
Jesus loves you black sheep

Oooooh
Oooooh
Oooooh

Jesus loves you black sheep

Oooooh
Oooooh
Oooooh

Oooooh
Oooooh
Oooooh
Oooooh

Writers: Ben Fuller, Tony Wood, and Michael Farren

February 15, 2026/by David Hall

When Differences Become Gifts

Daily Devotional, Heart of the Artist, Stories About Songs

Psalm 133:1 — How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity!

I watch the front door slam behind her and know this is going to matter more than either of us realizes.

Amanda and I are barely a year into marriage, still learning how to disagree without burning the house down. She’s Jamaican—expressive and fiery. I’m American—quiet, stubborn.

“I hate living in this country. I’m going home,” she says.

The words hang in the air.

At first, I give her space. That’s my instinct. But something won’t let me stay put. I find her sitting on a curb a few streets away—homesick now, anger spent. She gets in the car, and we sit in silence.

“You’ve got to stop saying you hate America and that you want to go home,” I finally say. “Because one day I’m going to say, ‘Okay. Go then.’”

It isn’t harsh. It’s honest.

Marriage can’t survive if one person is always halfway out the door.

Later, she tells me that moment changed everything. Choosing me meant choosing this life. And that decision saved our marriage more times than I can count—because our differences didn’t fade. They multiplied.

Take birthdays. In Jamaican culture, if the sun comes up and there’s no big gift or celebration, congratulations—you’ve ruined everything. I learned that the hard way. We still laugh about it.

But those differences also became gifts. Her family’s joy. Their faith. Their wholehearted love for God. I’d leave their house spiritually full, reminded of what matters most. And she learned to love parts of my world, too.

Our family grew—with biological children and then international adoption that felt less like a plan and more like an interruption from Heaven we couldn’t ignore.

Our multicultural family didn’t become united because life got easier. It became united because love stayed.

Sacrificial love has always been the glue.

Scripture says,

“How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity.” — Psalm 133:1

Unity isn’t sameness. It isn’t erasing differences. It’s not pretending hard things aren’t hard.

Unity is staying.

It’s choosing presence over escape. Service over self. Commitment over convenience. It’s love that works through the hard instead of walking away from it.

If your life is marked by differences—culture, personality, background, opinion—don’t assume those differences are problems to solve. They may be the very place God is teaching you how to love.

Stay committed. Stay united. Let God shape something beautiful right where you are.

— TobyMac

A MOMENT TO REFLECT

Where in your relationships are you tempted to withdraw instead of stay?
How have differences—cultural, personal, or otherwise—shaped you in unexpected ways?
What does unity look like in your life right now: sameness, or sacrificial love?
What is one practical way you can choose presence over escape this week?

February 14, 2026/by David Hall