The Connection Corner

Dear Younger Me

Daily Devotional, Heart of the Artist, Linda Meyers, Stories About Songs

Hebrews 12:2 — “Looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.”

Bart Millard sat in his living room, watching a familiar face on ESPN. It was a friend he had known for years, now a professional athlete.

When the interviewer asked why he loved baseball, the answer was unexpected. He shared that as a boy the athlete had been abused by babysitters, but the baseball field was the only place they could not reach him.

Hearing that struck Bart deeply. He understood what it meant to need a refuge. For Bart, it was music. Growing up with an abusive father, he had carried shame like a heavy coat he could never shrug off.

After the interview, Bart reached for his phone and sent a message. The words came straight from his heart:

“If I knew then what I know now, condemnation would have no power. My joy and pain would never be my worth.”

He added, “And if I knew then what I know now, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out what I would have changed if I could have heard ‘Dear younger me, it’s not your fault. You were never meant to carry this beyond the cross.’”

His friend replied, “Man, I’m in tears.”

Months later, Bart sat down to write the song “Dear Younger Me.” When he opened his phone and saw that message again, it all became clear. The song was already written. All he had to do was give it a melody.

That moment, where the words fit together perfectly, felt bigger than anything Bart had done before. The lyrics felt like a door opening to a room where he could finally lay down the past—the guilt, the blame, and the suffering.

Pain leaves scars, sure, but what other people did to you, or even what they didn’t do, wasn’t your fault.

God wants to restore you, heal you, and take away your shame. Just like Bart’s friend found safety on the baseball field, maybe you can find your safe place too—at the foot of the cross.

Dear Younger Me . . .

What would you tell your younger self if you had the chance? Email us what you would say:
info@887thecross.com.

LYRICS

Dear younger me
Where do I start
If I could tell you everything that I have learned so far
Then you could be
One step ahead
Of all the painful memories still running thru my head
I wonder how much different things would be
Dear younger me

Dear younger me
I cannot decide
Do I give some speech about how to get the most out of your life
Or do I go deep
And try to change
The choices that you’ll make cuz they’re choices that made me
Even though I love this crazy life
Sometimes I wish it was a smoother ride
Dear younger me, dear younger me

If I knew then what I know now
Condemnation would’ve had no power
My joy my pain would’ve never been my worth
If I knew then what I know now
Would’ve not been hard to figure out
What I would’ve changed if I had heard

Dear younger me
It’s not your fault
You were never meant to carry this beyond the cross
Dear younger me

You are holy
You are righteous
You are one of the redeemed
Set apart a brand new heart
You are free indeed

Every mountain every valley
Thru each heartache you will see
Every moment brings you closer
To who you were meant to be
Dear younger me, dear younger me

You are holy
You are righteous
You are one of the redeemed
Set apart a brand new heart
You are free indeed

Songwriters: Barry Graul / Bart Millard / Ben Glover / David Garcia / Michael Scheuchzer / Nathan Cochran / Robby Shaffer

September 7, 2025/by Linda Meyers

Praising Past the Pain

Daily Devotional, Heart of the Artist, Stories About Songs

Romans 12:12 — “Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.”

I never knew joy and grief could sit so closely together. My sister and I were pregnant at the same time, but near the end of her pregnancy, she lost her baby. We planned a funeral. We stood graveside. We cried until we could not cry anymore.

But still, I was carrying life inside me.

It was a strange place to be—rejoicing in one heartbeat while mourning the loss of another. Every smile at my growing belly felt tangled with guilt. Every moment of her sorrow made me ache, because I loved her, and I could not fix what was broken.

I prayed daily for the strength to walk both paths—one of celebration, one of grief—without falling apart. Someone close to us said, “God will make something beautiful out of this.”

At the time, those words felt too far away to reach. But I held them anyway, like a small seed in my pocket, waiting for it to sprout.

The daily battle was hard continued to be hard, but I chose to keep worshiping because deep down, I knew God was still working in ways I could not see.

Looking back, I see beauty in that story where I never expected it. Not because the grief vanished, but because God is so good. He has a way of writing stories where sorrow and hope can share the same page.

Sometimes the greatest breakthroughs come when you keep walking, keep singing, and keep trusting. Because God is a good author, and he know what you and your loved ones are going through.

And long before you know how the ending will turn out, He has the end in mind.

— Kari Jobe

THE BLESSING

The Lord bless you
And keep you
Make His face shine upon you
And be gracious to you
The Lord turn His
Face toward you
And give you peace

Amen

May His favor be upon you
And a thousand generations
And your family
And your children
And their children
And their children

May His presence go before you
And behind you
And beside you
All around you
And within you
He is with you
He is with you

In the morning
In the evening
In your coming
And your going
In your weeping
And rejoicing
He is for you
He is for you

He is for you

Written by Steven Furtick, Chris Brown, Kari Jobe, Cody Carnes

September 6, 2025/by David Hall

Wide Eyed and Wonderful Life

Daily Devotional, David Hall

Psalms 9:1 — “I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart; I will recount all of your wonderful deeds.”

There are moments when life slows down. It’s like the whole world has paused and is holding its breath to see what happens next.

That’s how it felt in the at work that day. I was on the couch, laptop open, trying to focus. My wife Sarah was there. Her stepmom, GiGi, too—watching Reese for us.

Our little girl was still in that almost-walking stage—testing the waters, clinging to furniture, never daring to cross the open floor. Like many nervous parents, we wondered if we would ever see her take those first steps.

Don’t get me wrong. Reese had always been right on time with her development, so there was nothing to worry about. But for Sarah and me, this felt like our one hope right under the surface.

Then, out of nowhere, that little one-year-old got up and moved. As she lunged forward, I could tell she had it.

No wall. No couch. No hands. Just Reese, swaying, wide-eyed and toddling. One step, two, three, four, five. Five seconds of wobbly, glorious motion before she fell into her mama’s arms.

And it took my breath away.

In that Kodak moment, I felt everything. My whole chest swelled, my face flushed, and goosebumps covered my arms.

Fast-forward a few weeks, and she was running everywhere—into every room—climbing every surface, and moving faster than we could keep up. Those five seconds just became part of the everyday. I didn’t realize, along the way, that I had stopped noticing.

That’s the danger, isn’t it? God gives us moments that take our breath away, and then we just… move on.

God answers prayers, opens doors, and carries us into new places. But if we’re not careful, the extraordinary starts to feel ordinary. We begin walking like it’s no big deal, forgetting what it was like to take that first step.

So, I’ve been learning to slow down, to notice, and to remember with gratitude those days where I prayed for what I have right now.

Maybe today is ordinary. Maybe it’s messy. But what if you walk with God through it the way Reese wobbled across that break room floor—wide-eyed and expectant?

It might just take your breath away all over again.

September 5, 2025/by David Hall