The Connection Corner

Serving Joy in a Jar

Philippians 2:4 – “Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.”

The car ride home from the hospital was quiet. Eleven-year-old Jessie Joy Rees was curled up in the back seat, her soft knit cap slipping down over her eyes.

Her parents were worn out. They had just watched their daughter endure another round of chemotherapy. No one spoke for a while. Then Jessie broke the silence with a question that changed everything.

“What about the kids who don’t get to go home?”

They had no answer. They were still trying to hold themselves together. But Jessie was not waiting for anyone else to lead. She had already decided what to do.

That evening, they found her in the kitchen, surrounded by toys from her room and five brown paper lunch bags. She was writing cheerful notes in bright marker.

“You are brave.” “Keep smiling.” “Never give up.”

At her next appointment, Jessie brought the bags with her. The hospital staff smiled and offered a few guidelines. The bags became jars—clear, colorful containers filled with new toys, crafts, and other kid-friendly treasures, all meant to brighten a long hospital stay.

That was how Jessie’s Joy Jars were born.

She packed more than 3,000 jars in just ten months. Their garage transformed into a joy workshop. Word spread. Families joined in. Hospitals took notice. And children who had stopped smiling began to smile again.

But the jars were never just about the toys. They told a deeper story—one of a little girl who refused to let a diagnosis define her. Her kindness did.

And so can you.

If you are walking through something dark today, remember: love does not need perfect conditions to show up. It only needs someone willing. Jessie was. And her life still says what words sometimes cannot.

There is always a way to give joy.

July 21, 2025/by Linda Meyers

From Wandering to Worship

Daily Devotional, Stories About Songs

Romans 5:8 – “But God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

Robert Robinson had a reputation — wild, sharp-witted, never one to stay in the same place for too long.

He spent his teenage years chasing whatever kept the silence away. Friends, noise, drink, distraction — anything to stay out of his own head.

But the ache always followed him.

One Sunday, he decided to visit a local revival. He did not walk into that tent looking for anything holy. He was there because his friends were, and the noise inside him had gotten too loud. But something shifted when he heard the preacher speak — not about rules or guilt, but about a kind of love that did not flinch when it met a broken person.

That night, Robert believed. He took a step toward something better, and he gave his life to Jesus.

But change did not come easy. The old pull stayed strong. Doubt crept in. He still felt like the boy who could not get it right. So, one evening, he sat with all of it and wrote what he was too tired to pretend about anymore: “Prone to wander Lord I feel it. Prone to leave the God I love”

That line, honest and worn, became a hymn. “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing” was not written from a mountaintop. It came from the valley and from a man who still wrestled with the weight of being human.

The hymn endures because it is true. Most of us, at some point, feel like we have wandered too far, but grace does not keep score. Grace stays put. It waits for you, steady as ever.

If you feel far off, hear this: you are not disqualified. You are not too late, and the One who loved Robert back home has not stopped reaching for you.

COME THOU FOUNT

Come, Thou fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace
Streams of mercy, never ceasing
Call for songs of loudest praise
Teach me some melodious sonnet
Sung by flaming tongues above
Praise the mount, I’m fixed upon it
Mount of Thy redeeming love

Here I raise mine Ebenezer
Hither by Thy help I’m come
And I hope by Thy good pleasure
Safely to arrive at home
Jesus sought me when a stranger
Wand’ring from the fold of God
He, to rescue me from danger
Interposed His precious blood

And, O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter
Bind my wand’ring heart to Thee
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it
Prone to leave the God I love
Here’s my heart, Lord, take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts-

Above all else, I adore Your name
Above all else, tune my heart to sing Your praise
Above all else, I adore Your name
Above all else, tune my heart to sing Your praise
Above all else, I adore Your name
Above all else, tune my heart to sing Your praise, oh
Above all else, I adore Your name
Above all else, tune my heart to sing Your praise

The highest praise, the loudest praise
To the Name above every name
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it
Prone to leave the God I love
Here’s my heart, Lord, take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above

Songwriters: Shane Barnard
Come Thou Fount (Above All Else) lyrics © Songs From Wellhouse

July 20, 2025/by David Hall

The Gift Inside the Interruption

Brenda Price, Daily Devotional

James 4:8 — “Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.”

What in your life right now feels like an interruption? What is a distraction to you?

I was reading the other day about Jesus’s walk to Golgotha—His path to the cross—and I had to stop and sit with it. The scene is hard to take in. His back had already been torn open from the flogging.

He was bruised, bleeding, and barely able to stand. The crowd was loud, vicious. Dust kicked up under the weight of every step, and Jesus—exhausted—stumbled under the heavy beam pressing into His raw skin.

That was the road to Calvary.

And somewhere along that brutal road, a man named Simon happened to be passing by.

Simon had come all the way from North Africa to Jerusalem for Passover. That was no small trip. He had come for worship, tradition, maybe time with his family. And then—without warning—he was swept into this scene of violence and confusion.

And before he could piece it all together, they were pointing at him. “You. Carry this man’s cross.”

I tried to picture it. Was Simon annoyed? Confused? Embarrassed? Did he feel the eyes of strangers on him, wondering what he had done to deserve this? Scripture does not tell us what Simon said or how he felt—but I can’t help but wonder if this man knew what he was about to be a part of.

Because no one walks beside Jesus like that and walks away unchanged.

And what amazes me is that Simon’s interruption was life changing, not only for him, but for us too. He was part of this powerful, magnificent, life-changing story of the crucifixion of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

And it makes me think—how many times have I complained about things I never asked for. A change in plans. A difficult person. A road I did not want to walk. But what if those are not just disruptions? What if they are invitations to draw nearer to God?

Friend, I do not know what has interrupted your life lately. Maybe it is something you never saw coming. Maybe it feels heavy, or lonely, or just plain unfair. But what if—right in the middle of it—God is drawing you close?

You do not have to have it all figured out. You do not have to wait until it makes sense. But what would it look like to take one small step toward Jesus, even while the dust is still settling and your arms still ache from the weight of what you carry?

Ask Him what He is doing through it. Let Him speak to you in the silence, in the waiting, in the in-between. You never know how God will use that distraction to change you forever, and maybe even the course of history.

July 19, 2025/by Brenda Price