I’ve walked through some storms in my 70-plus years. Abandoned at three years old and stuffed in an orphanage for fourteen years. Homeless at seventeen. A failed business venture that nearly broke me. Watching my 22-year-old son fight a brutal 40-month battle with leukemia. Building a business through every stock market crash and crisis since 1985. And a couple of others I’ll keep private.
Through all of it, there have been songs that kept me going. Songs that spoke when I couldn’t. Songs that reminded me who God is when I couldn’t feel His presence. Songs that helped me praise Him even when my heart was torn.
I want to share some of those songs with you in case you also need their power during the storms of your life.
Amazing Grace:
The Song of the Lost and Found
John Newton wrote “Amazing Grace” in 1773, and if you know his story, you know why it resonates so deeply with people like me. Newton lived a disgusting, immoral life. He was involved in the slave trade. And yet, Grace found him. Grace saved him. Grace transformed him from a wretch to a worshiper.
That’s what Grace does. It’s not getting what we deserve (that would be judgment). It’s not avoiding what we deserve (that’s mercy). Grace is getting more than we deserve. Grace is being found when you’re lost.
I was that lost boy in the orphanage, told I was worthless, doomed to be as bad as my parents, doomed to be dead or in prison by my twenties. But Grace had other plans.
Listen to this song if: You’re working with a child who’s been written off by everyone else, and you need to remember that Grace can reach anyone, no matter how lost they seem.
My Shepherd Will Supply My Need:
Coming Home
Isaac Watts wrote this hymn around 1719, and there’s a passage near the end that gets me every single time. It talks about finding a settled rest while others come and go, and being no more a stranger or a guest, but like a child at home.
A child at home.
Do you know what that means to someone who spent their childhood in an institution? To someone who was never allowed to call anywhere home? To someone who was made to feel like an unwanted guest in this world?
This song reminds me that I have a home. That I belong. That my Shepherd supplies my need, brings back my wandering spirit, and leads me in paths of truth and grace.
When you’ve been a castaway kid, those words aren’t just poetry. They’re a lifeline.
Listen to this song if: You’re working with foster children or kids in the system, and you need to be reminded that every child is meant to feel like they belong, like they’re home.
Praise You in This Storm:
When Heaven Feels Silent
I’ve lived through many life crises, and this song by Casting Crowns speaks to every single one of them. It’s about those moments when you’re sure God is going to step in and save the day, wipe away your tears, fix everything. And then it keeps raining.
The song captures that brutal honesty: God, I thought You would have reached down by now. My strength is almost gone. How can I carry on if I can’t find You?
But then comes that whisper through the rain: “I’m with you.”
And as His mercy falls, we lift our hands and praise the God who gives and takes away. We praise Him not because the storm has passed, but because He is who He is, no matter where we are. Every tear we’ve cried, He holds in His hand. He never left our side.
I played this song countless times during my son’s leukemia battle. During the failed business. During the times I felt like I was drowning. Because sometimes you can’t wait for the storm to end before you praise. Sometimes you have to praise in the middle of it.
Listen to this song if: You’re in the trenches, and you’ve been praying for breakthrough but it feels like nothing’s changing. You need to remember God is with you in the waiting.
Slow Down:
Be Still and Wait
Sometimes we simply need to stop. Just stop.
In the midst of confusion, in the time of desperate need, when we’re thinking not too clearly, there’s a gentle voice that intercedes: “Slow down. Be still. Wait on the Spirit of the Lord. Hear His voice. Know that He is God.”
This is a little-known song by Chuck Girard, and it has helped me do exactly that. Stop. Breathe. Remember who’s really in control here.
In the center of the storm, when things are closing in, when we’re feeling unsure, that gentle voice comes through, still and pure.
We live in a world that never stops moving, never stops demanding, never stops pushing. But God? He invites us to be still. To slow down and wait on Him.
Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is take a breath and remember He’s God and you’re not.
Listen to this song if: You’re burned out from caring for others, overwhelmed by what life has put on your plate, and you’ve forgotten how to pause and let God carry the weight for a moment.
Hard Fought Hallelujah:
When Praise Costs Everything
This newer song by Brandon Lake and Jelly Roll captures something I’ve lived: the hard-fought hallelujah. The praise that doesn’t come easy. The worship that costs you everything you’ve got.
While I am blessed beyond measure, my life has been one hard-fought hallelujah after another. I vowed as a boy not to become what everyone said I would be. I fought through circumstances imposed upon me against my will. I wrestled with darkness while trying to reach for the light.
There are times when your hands go up freely, and times when it takes all the strength you have just to lift them. There are days when praise comes easy, and days when it takes everything you’ve got.
But here’s what I’ve learned from this walk: faith is like a diamond—created through intense pressure and fire. And when your head, heart, and hands are feeling heavy, that’s exactly when you lift them a little higher.
God has been patient. God has been gracious. Faithful, whatever I’m feeling or facing. So I bring my hard-fought, heartfelt, been-through-hell hallelujah. I bring my storm-tossed, torn-sail, story-to-tell hallelujah.
Because the struggle keeps us honest. It breaks down the walls of our pride. And it teaches us what real worship is.
Listen to this song if: Your work feels too hard, the victories too small, and you’re wondering if what you’re doing even matters. You need to remember that faithful is enough, even when it’s hard-fought.
Orphans of God:
There Are No Outcasts
I must have played “Orphans of God” by Avalon at least a hundred times while writing my book, Castaway Kid. I cried almost every single time.
The song asks: Who among us has not been broken? Who is without guilt or pain? We’ve all been abandoned by our own transgressions. But if such a thing as grace exists, then grace was made for lives like this.
And here’s the message that reaches into the deepest wounds: There are no strangers. There are no outcasts. There are no orphans of God.
So many have fallen, but hallelujah, there are no orphans of God.
I was an orphan. A literal, legal, physical orphan. Unwanted. Cast aside. Told I had no future. But the song reminds me of a deeper truth: in God’s family, there are no orphans. We are His children. We need His love. We run before His throne of mercy and seek His face to rise above.
Come, ye unwanted, and find affection. Come, ye weary, and lay down your head. Come, ye unworthy, you are my brother.
That’s the gospel in a song.
Listen to this song if: You’re working with kids who feel unwanted and unloved, and you need to be reminded that in God’s family, there are no throwaway children, no hopeless cases, no orphans.
Why These Songs Matter
Music has a way of getting past our defenses. It slips through the cracks in our armor and speaks directly to our souls. When I couldn’t find the words to pray, these songs prayed for me. When I couldn’t feel God’s presence, these songs reminded me He was still there. When my faith was weak, these songs carried me.
Maybe you’re in a storm right now. Maybe you’re feeling like an orphan, an outcast, someone who doesn’t belong. Maybe your hands are too heavy to lift in praise. Maybe you’re wondering if God has forgotten about you.
He hasn’t.
Find the songs that speak to your soul. The ones that make you cry, the ones that make you lift your hands even when they’re heavy, the ones that remind you who God is when you can’t feel Him.
Let them carry you. Let them pray for you. Let them remind you that you’re not alone.
Because if such a thing as Grace exists, then Grace was made for lives like yours and mine.
