The Connection Corner

Twelve Dollars of Love

Hebrews 13:16 — “And do not forget to do good and to share with others, for with such sacrifices God is pleased.”

One mom, Stacey, always tried to keep birthdays simple. No fuss, just a meal and some laughs. So, when Nathan turned twelve, she let him pick his favorite spot—Waffle House.

After they slid into their booth, Stacey leaned across the table and flagged down the lone waiter on duty, Philip.

“Hey, just so you know,” she said with a grin, “it’s my son’s twelfth birthday.”

She figured it might get him a free dessert or something, but she wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

Philip grinned right back and disappeared behind the counter. A minute later, he came back with a stack of twelve crisp dollar bills, one for each year Nathan had been alive.

He placed them in front of Nathan with a genuine, “Happy birthday, Buddy.”

Nathan’s eyes widened. He had never seen generosity like that up close. Stacey found herself blinking back tears. She knew the weight of that gift. She could picture Philip working long shifts, relying on every tip to make ends meet. Yet here he was, giving generously.

It was a lesson she’d been trying to teach her son for years, and here it was demonstrated in a roadside diner.

As they left, Stacey squeezed Nathan’s hand. She hoped he’d carry that moment with him, that he’d remember it long after the waffles were gone. Because, she thought, sometimes the best way to live is to give—even when it costs you something.

Friend, maybe you’ve been waiting for the right moment to put someone else first. Don’t wait. Little sacrifices, given freely, can turn a simple thing into a memory that lasts a lifetime. Let’s live that kind of story.

July 9, 2025/by Bri Dunn

Get Back in the Saddle

Daily Devotional, Tammi Arender

2 Timothy 1:7 — For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline.

Daddy had me in the saddle of a horse before I even had my first loose tooth. I remember my little legs jutting out like sticks, trying to hold on to Dugar, my Palomino, whose coat shimmered like honey in the sun.

Daddy loved horses, and I loved that he wanted to share them with me. Every Saturday, he’d saddle up Dugar and hand me the reins, his big hand steady on my back. I’d watch his face as he tightened the cinch, his eyes full of pride.

We rode together for years, me and Dugar. I learned to sense his moods—when he was feeling feisty, when he was calm, when he’d rather graze than gallop. I’d talk to him like he was my best friend, which he probably was.

Then came the day everything changed.

It started like any other morning, but that day, Dugar had a wild streak in him. He bucked hard, harder than he ever had before, spinning and kicking like he wanted to leave me behind. My heart pounded in my chest as I clung to the saddle, every nerve screaming for me to let go.

But I didn’t. I held on until the saddle slipped, and then I hit the ground. Hard.

My head slammed into the ground, landing just inches from my father’s disc harrow. If you’ve never seen one, imagine a row of sharp, spinning blades pulled behind a tractor. Think of a guillotine on wheels ready to chew up the dirt—and me.

Daddy was there in an instant. I don’t remember much, but I remember the look in his eyes—wet, relieved, scared. But I was alive. No broken bones, not even a concussion. He said it was a miracle. We found out later that the cinch had not been latched properly. It was a small mistake, but it nearly cost me everything.

The next morning, Daddy leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes soft. “You ready to ride again?” he asked.

Every part of me wanted to say no. My stomach twisted at the thought of that wild-eyed horse and the way the ground had rushed up to meet me. But Daddy held my gaze, his voice steady. “If you don’t get back on that horse,” he said, “you’ll carry that fear with you the rest of your life.”

So, I took a deep breath and swung my leg over Dugar’s back. My heart thudded with every step he took, each hoofbeat a reminder of the risk, but also of all the rides we’d shared—sunny afternoons, slow walks under the oaks, the way his breath felt warm on my cheek. I chose to trust him again. And in that moment, I chose to trust myself too.

Life has a way of bucking us off when we least expect it. It’s messy and wild and sometimes leaves us face down in the dirt. But staying there isn’t an option. It’s not how we’re made. It doesn’t matter how many times you get bucked off—what matters is how many times you get back on.

So, dust yourself off. Get back on that horse, friend, and let Jesus take the reins.

July 8, 2025/by Tammi Arender

In Christ Alone

Daily Devotional, Heart of the Artist, Stories About Songs

John 14:6 — Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

Keith Getty didn’t want to play it safe. Not with his faith, and definitely not with his music. He’d watched too many church songs drift toward shallow waters. Many songs were big on feeling, but light on truth. And something in him stirred. There had to be more.

One afternoon, over coffee, he told his friend Stuart Townend about a few melodies he’d been working on. He promised to send him a CD.

When Stuart popped it into his player days later, the first track made him pause. He sat back, listening carefully. There’s something about this, he thought. There’s something quite eternal and enduring.

He called Keith. They spoke at length about what the melody could hold. Stuart said what they were both thinking, “What if this song traced the whole story of Jesus—His life, death, resurrection—and what that means for us today?”

Stuart took the idea and ran. He wrote with purpose, determined to lay out the faith clearly—verse by verse, doctrine by doctrine—yet in a way anyone could understand. The lyrics poured out, beginning not with the believer, but with Christ Himself.

Some warned them that writing modern hymns was a dead end. But the song took off like wildfire—across churches, denominations, even generations. It taught people the faith. It comforted the doubting. It fed the hungry, and it sparked a whole movement of rich, theological worship for a new era.

They had hoped to write one good song. Instead, they helped reintroduce depth to worship. This was not because they tried to be revolutionary, but because they stayed rooted in scripture.

In the end, Keith and Stuart marveled at the beauty of a simple truth: the story of Christ changes lives. It was not enough to water it down. It was not enough to be half-sure. People needed the whole story—unashamed and unedited. That was the news that turned searching souls into believers, and that was the song’s greatest gift.

May you hold that same resolve. Do not shrink back. Share the story that brings hope, because this world still needs the light that only truth can bring.

LYRICS

In Christ alone my hope is found;
He is my light, my strength, my song;
This cornerstone, this solid ground,
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm.
What heights of love, what depths of peace,
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease!
My comforter, my all in all—
Here in the love of Christ I stand.

In Christ alone, Who took on flesh,
Fullness of God in helpless babe!
This gift of love and righteousness,
Scorned by the ones He came to save.
Till on that cross as Jesus died,
The wrath of God was satisfied;
For ev’ry sin on Him was laid—
Here in the death of Christ I live.

There in the ground His body lay,
Light of the world by darkness slain;
Then bursting forth in glorious day,
Up from the grave He rose again!
And as He stands in victory,
Sin’s curse has lost its grip on me;
For I am His and He is mine—
Bought with the precious blood of Christ.

No guilt in life, no fear in death—
This is the pow’r of Christ in me;
From life’s first cry to final breath,
Jesus commands my destiny.
No pow’r of hell, no scheme of man,
Can ever pluck me from His hand;
Till He returns or calls me home—
Here in the pow’r of Christ I’ll stand.

Words and Music by Keith Getty & Stuart Townend

July 7, 2025/by Linda Meyers