The Connection Corner

Finding Light After the Longest Night

Psalm 30:5b – “Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.”

Summertime always takes me back to childhood camping trips with my family.

Every Friday, we eagerly packed up for our weekend adventure. Before we upgraded to a travel trailer, our family of five would squeeze into a large tent, excited for nights under the stars.

I vividly remember one trip when a storm came in the middle of the night. As a young girl, I was terrified. Rain pelted the tent as thunder cracked like a whip, echoing through the forest. The thin canvas walls felt utterly useless against the raw power of the winds.

Certain we would not survive, I woke my mom. Her voice, steady and calm, cut through the chaos. She assured me she would not let anything happen to my siblings or me. We were safe.

Her words soothed my anxious mind enough to let me drift back to sleep. I woke the next morning to sunlight streaming through the trees and to peace knowing we made it.

Life’s tempests can feel no less daunting as an adult. Disappointments crash into our world and heartaches pound us like a hurricane. We feel exposed, defenseless. In those moments of crippling fear, it is easy to forget we are not alone.

But just as I wholeheartedly trusted my mom in the storm, we can trust God to cover us and keep us safe. His strength steadies us when our own fails.

Here is the unexpected truth: the fiercest storms only last a night. Just like that childhood tent, our faith may feel flimsy, but when we hold on, we find unseen strength and peace.

The storms may be inevitable, but they do not have to define us. Because God is with us, we can weather them. So hold on to this truth – our hope, like the sunrise, is always just a morning away.

June 28, 2025/by Sarah Hall

The Vacation We Already Had

Daily Devotional, Tammi Arender

1 Corinthians 16:14 – “Let all that you do be done in love.”

They say time flies when you’re having fun, but that nine-hour car ride to Tennessee felt more like crawling through molasses.

We had piled into two cars—my dad, his new wife, her boys, my sister and her family, my best friend, and me—and drove the whole way. For a tween, that felt like forever and a day and a thousand “are we there yets” stuck in a car.

When our caravan finally rolled into Gatlinburg, we checked every tourist box: souvenir shops, ice cream stands, hiking a mountain or two. And yes, an old-timey country music show that I vowed—loudly—not to attend.

We went anyway. And if I’m honest, the only thing I remember is seeing a cute boy and getting my very first crush.

But years later, that’s not what I hold on to.

The real treasure was back at the rental house.

That little cabin tucked in the trees, became the center of it all. We would pile into the kitchen and cook up whatever groceries we grabbed. We played board games with missing pieces. We argued. We laughed and laughed and stayed up too late.

And that was the best part.

Not the boy. Not the Smoky Mountains. Not even the pictures we took.

All the places we visited were just backdrops. The real story? It happened around the dinner table, on the living room floor, over pancakes and pillow talk and time together.

And here’s what I have come to believe:

You don’t have to travel to find that kind of wonder.

The best parts of life don’t require tickets or plans. They require simple love. A few unhurried moments around the table together. A Bible open before bed. Laughter that’s not rushed. Togetherness that isn’t scheduled, but chosen.

That is what it’s all about.

So, don’t wait for a vacation to make space for the people who matter. Start now. Tonight. Right here, in your own home. Because the best part of life? You don’t even have to ask, “Are we there yet?”

You’re already there.

June 27, 2025/by Tammi Arender

When God Speaks You Can Stand

Daily Devotional, David Hall, Uncategorized

Isaiah 55:11 – “So shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.”

The storm rolled in just before dawn. The kind that makes the sky turn black and where the wind slaps you sideways. The kind that makes you wonder if this is how it ends.

Peter had known storms. He had fished these waters his whole life. But this one? This one had teeth. The boat groaned with every wave, and the air tightened with fear.

Then someone saw it. Out on the water—a figure. Walking. Coming closer. It was Jesus.

At first, no one dared to speak. They just stared. Somewhere behind him, someone whispered, “It’s a ghost,” but Peter leaned forward. He needed to be sure. He had to know.

Then a voice cut through the fear: “Take heart. It is I.”

Peter locked onto it. That voice… it sounded like hope.

His heart jumped. “Lord, if it is You,” he called, “command me to come.” Because deep down, he knew. If Jesus said the word, he would have something to stand on. The wind did not have to stop. The waves did not have to calm. If Jesus commanded it, the water would hold.

Then came the answer. One word.

“Come.”

And somehow, that word was heavier than the storm. Peter stepped out of the boat, and impossibly, the waves beneath him felt like solid ground.

It was not courage that held Peter up. It was not even faith in himself. It was obedience to the voice of the One who called him. That voice has authority. It does not need a life raft or a better forecast. It just needs to speak.

Some of us spend our whole lives waiting for the storm to pass before we take a step. But peace is not the absence of trouble. It is the presence of His word in the middle of it.

So open the Bible. Sit with it. Wait for His voice. Let His word come first. Not your will, nor your timing. And when you find a promise that speaks straight into your chaos, plant your feet. You can hold onto it like it is solid ground.

Because it is.

June 26, 2025/by David Hall