As a teenager, I was suicidal, drowning in PTSD from relentless bullying. Then, one day, a Hawk Nelson song found me exactly where I was. It gave me something to hold onto. The Lord used a song to literally save my life, and now I get to create music to do the same for others. When Jason Dunn, Hawk Nelson’s lead singer, agreed to sing on my song, “This One’s For You,” it was such a full-circle moment. That song, like many others I’ve written, is for anyone who's been in that dark place. My heart is to be a voice for a growing movement of people who believe faith and mental health both matter—and maybe they’re deeply connected. With my music, I try to share that message loud and clear. My songs go hand-in-hand with what I talk about online—raw, honest conversations about mental health, music and faith. I’ve been blown away by how many people resonate with what I share. There’s something powerful about being real, and I think people can feel that in my debut album, The Breakthrough. It’s full of stories pulled straight from my own struggles, but more importantly, it’s full of hope. When you listen to songs like “Grace of God” or “Breakthrough,” you’re not hearing something made-up or polished for the sake of a hit—you’re hearing my actual journey. I’ve walked through the same darkness that a lot of my listeners are facing. Honestly, this ministry—this music—it’s not about me. I’m not chasing radio play or a record deal. I’m doing this because I know… Read More
How Everyday People Live Out Their Christian Faith
Illustrating how men and women display their love for Jesus in their day-to-day lives.
Little things that may have an eternal impact. Might these stories motivate you to use your talents?
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When I was a kid, I always felt like something was missing in my life. I grew up in a Christian household, believed in God, and knew about Jesus, but I was unsure about my future. Things were tough—I was homeschooled and didn’t have any friends growing up. At just 9 years old, I fell into depression. At 13, I attended a youth group for the first time, thinking it would end my loneliness. I was happy to go, but I was more focused on making friends than the service. Sadly, I ended up being bullied and even had someone try to fight me over a misunderstanding. I left that church heartbroken, wondering why these things kept happening to me. At the time, I felt like I was the only one struggling so much. When I got older, I finally got my driver’s license and found another youth group right up the road. I was excited to go, and on my first night, I joined their Christmas party and made friends right away. At the same time, I joined a Discord server for my online school, where I met classmates and some older guys who were true believers. They became mentors to me, and pointed me toward Christ, though I didn’t realize I was lost. At 17, I began questioning what the Gospel really meant. One of my mentors even told me I wasn’t saved. That hit hard, and I remember being angry, telling him God didn’t care about me and that my life had no future. Later, while browsing Amazon, I came across… Read More
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I was at the store when I got an urgent phone call from my wife, Blessie. It was July 12, 2024, and she was seven months pregnant, but there was a problem. She was bleeding. I rushed home and took her straight to the hospital. They took her right to labor and delivery. The doctors and nurses took over six hours checking her and trying to decide if they should do a C-section. When my daughter was born, she was incredibly pale and had no heartbeat. “We’re sorry for your loss,” they told us. My wife responded, “Keep trying.” With every failed chest compression, my mind kept going to Mark 5:39, where Jesus says, “Why all this commotion and wailing? This child is not dead, but asleep.” They worked for 28 minutes trying to revive her. At that moment, they gave her a small syringe of blood, and suddenly, there was a heartbeat. Her lungs filled with air, and her skin flushed with color. They wheeled her into the NICU, where she would spend the next 90 days. The doctor told us he was worried because 28 minutes is far too long to go without oxygen to her brain. The next day, the doctors came to our room and went over the severity of the situation, trying to convince us to unplug her. They only gave her a slight chance of survival, and predicted she would need a feeding tube, would not be able to breathe without a ventilator, and would be a vegetable. We prayed for three days to consider what we should… Read More
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For 25 years, my mom was a school cook in an elementary school, where all the children called her by her first name, “Sue.” She loved them, and they loved her in return for her hugs, friendly teasing and good food. Her school kitchen was known for the special treats she whipped up, especially her famous homemade peanut butter bars that are still talked about today. She would see to it that all the students received plenty of food on their plates, with extras and seconds given to the ones who looked hungrier. Years later, when she was drawing close to death in a hospice facility, I wanted to find some way to honor her giving, loving legacy. She had often expressed heartache and worry for the children who would go hungry when they weren’t at school to get extra helpings, so it seemed fitting to take care of them in her absence. As a result, I created “Sue’s Kids,” a charity in her memory that sends bagged food home with needy children. The teachers of the younger students privately share their names with me, and since I’m a teacher of the older students, my colleagues and I come up with our own list. Donors fund the food purchases, and in my classroom each week during nonacademic time, some of my students bag dozens of microwaveable meals, packaged fruit, breakfast bars, pudding and other snacks. The teachers of the younger students put their food bags in their backpacks before they leave for the weekend. I place the bags of food for older students in their… Read More
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My story started in Jamaica when I was 17. I left home because I disliked my parents’ strict rules. When I left to live with my brother, I found myself in a situation that was not conducive to a young girl. After four weeks, he tried to return me to my parents. Halfway there, I decided I was old enough and responsible enough to find a job without having a place to live. A man near my father’s age offered me a big job. I thought he would protect me, but he took me into his home, and I lost my innocence. He turned me out after four weeks. At that time, I was homeless. Thankfully, a kind lady took me in for several months. I was able to find employment and go to school for my career. Later, I married and had three children, but I left my husband and came to America with them. In 2002, I began volunteering at a pregnancy center in Daytona, Florida, where I worked with pregnant and abused women who shared similar experiences to mine. I loved working with them. In 2008, I moved to Texas with my second husband, and in 2009, I volunteered with a pregnancy center in Katy. While mentoring a young woman, she mentioned how, at 17, she was kicked out of her home and trafficked. This triggered a memory for me, and I wept, realizing I could have been just like her if God had not protected me. Ever since I accepted Jesus when I was 13, I have always believed He was protecting… Read More
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Not long ago, I had the family I longed for when I married my husband. When I found out I was not able to have children, I felt my world was shattered. I was wrong. I adopted a child who was five months old, and then another at three years old. I had my family and did everything families would do. Then, the unexpected happened and my world started to shatter. My husband got sick. With two children eight and under, I had to pull it together and find strength. I told my girls, “Daddy is sick and needs to have a kidney transplant. That is when they take an organ from one person and give it to Daddy. His are not working.” He survived the operation. That was the very first time I looked toward Jesus. About 20 years later, the unimaginable happened, something I would never wish upon anyone. My husband, after bouts of hospital stays, was told he had stage four pancreatic cancer, and had three months to live. Once he told his parents, his father went to bed, and passed away a week later. My husband made it through his celebration of life, but ended up in the hospital the next day. He went in thinking he would come home; we all did. But things changed. I had to call in our entire family and tell them it was time to say goodbye. He passed away eight days later. I lost it, I didn’t know how to go on. I knew I had my girls, but I was lost. I didn’t know how to navigate… Read More