ChristianDance

Looking back builds the courage to keep moving forward.  Samuel once set up a stone after a battle and named it Ebenezer, saying, “Till now the Lord has helped us.” That single stone became a marker, a physical reminder planted in the ground so nobody could walk past it and forget what God had done. “Ebenezer” by David Dowdell borrows that same idea. “Here I raise my Ebenezer, only by your help I’ve come,” the lyrics declare, and that line carries generations of gratitude.  Think about your own life for a moment. Where have you seen God show up? Maybe it was a financial provision you can’t fully explain, or a battle against sin you thought you’d never win. The song declares: “You’ve brought me victory in the battle against sin and self-defeat.” That’s a testimony, the kind worth remembering on your hardest days. Your Ebenezer.  Here’s why remembering matters so much. Psalm 77:11 says, “I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember your wonders of old.” Y...

Is anything truly too difficult for God? A single song can take a decade to finish. Noah Samuel wrote the first part of “Impossible Is Possible” on December 3rd, 2016, in the thick of a family crisis he doesn’t detail — some pains are only shared with God. The rest arrived nearly ten years later, on February 23rd, 2025, while Noah stood at the altar singing to what he calls “the God of possibilities.” Two moments, separated by a decade of unknowns, became one song. That gap is just as much a part of the song’s message as the lyrics. The lyrics don’t waste words: “You set my feet upon the solid rock. You raise my head from the deep miry clay.” Anyone who has waited years for an answer knows that clay. It sticks on you. It pulls you under slowly, not all at once. Yet the chorus refuses to stay stuck there: “Impossible is possible. The impossible is possible with You.” That confidence isn’t wishful thinking. Jeremiah 32:27 quotes God: “Behold, I am the LORD, the God of all flesh. Is any...

What does it mean to feel “homesick” for God?  Adam stood in the garden and felt something he’d never felt before. Shame. One bite from the forbidden fruit, and the closeness he shared with God vanished behind a door guarded by angels. He couldn’t go back. That’s how the song “Homesick!” by Paul Scala opens — not with condemnation, but with honesty. “I let that liar separate me from God who said don’t eat that tree.” Sound familiar? We’ve all stood in Adam’s place at some point, tricked into believing the lie, then buried under the weight of what we had done.  But here’s where the song turns. Just like Adam, we don’t need to stay stuck in shame. We may toward God instead of away from Him, singing, “Your grace gives me power, till this race is done, I’ll run to my Strong Tower.” That’s the shift we all need to make. Regret can either freeze you or send you running toward the One who already dealt with your penalty.  Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is near to the brokenhearte...

What if courage arrived wearing a lion’s face?  Heather Choate Davis (aka Sophia Streams) waited two decades for a glimpse of Christ. The lyrics capture the awe & ferocity of this mystical moment in Heather’s beautiful style of writing. The song begins with the waiting. Twenty-one years, eyes fixed on the ridge, faithfully watching. Then one day, alone by a fountain, something broke through — not gentle, not quiet. A lion. Face to face. “Life and death were in his eyes,” Heather sings, and for a moment she believed she might die. But the lion circled her three times, breathed a blessing over her instead: “Of what mortal man could you now be afraid?” That one question is common in each of our minds. Fear does a great job of trying to convince us that we’re small. It whispers that the danger is bigger than we are. But how is an encounter with God a danger? Real encounters with God rarely leave people comfortable — they leave people changed. Don’t confuse that discomfort with dan...

Surrender isn’t loss. It’s freedom.  Five weeks. That’s how long it took for a voice memo on a phone to become a debut worship single. Victor Cross wrote “God of Every Moment” after heart surgery reshaped the way he saw his days — not in the sense of trying to control them, but as surrendering to God’s timing, even when it doesn’t make sense.  Victor didn’t plan the “oh, oh, oh’s” that open the chorus. They arrived first, and the rest of the song followed. Something about that moment felt different from every other song he’d written. He calls it the first time writing led him straight into worship.  The lyrics trace that shift plainly: “I’ve finally let go / Of the things that had a strong hold.” What was gripping you so tightly that letting go felt impossible? For Victor, it was the need to understand every outcome before he could trust it. His surgery stripped that away. Victor shares: “It was a surprise, but I knew God had me in every moment.” What remained after the ...