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Includes Sacred Ground, By Lord Redeemed, I Testify
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39 free testimonies
Souls Impacted
Music Born from Grace
By Lord Redeemed is a creative sharing ground founded by Shane Pierson to share spiritual inspirations for music and lyrics. Each song is a testimony born from personal encounters with God's miracles, crafted to help listeners both hear and feel the same experiences. All of this music is offered freely to all who seek hope and healing.
Listening Paths
Choose the room your soul is in.
Anxiety, grief, nearness
Peace in Heavy Places
For heavy nights, grief, fear, and the prayer that simply asks the Lord to stay close.
Includes Weak Things Strong, O Lord Wilt Thou Stay With Me, I Smile
Repentance, masks, mercy
Grace and Return
Songs for falling short, dropping the false face, and turning back to mercy.
Includes Still He Comes, Here We Go Again, Wrong Faces
Endurance, work, obedience
Keep Going
For the long obedience: Mondays, effort, work, and not quitting in the dark.
Includes Weak Things Strong, Don't You Quit, Working Man
Service, family, charity
Love Out Loud
Love that moves through hands and feet: show up, feed sheep, give, and stay.
Includes Love Me By Love, If Not You Then Who, Stay
Doubt, seeking, truth
Faith That Grows
For honest questions, spiritual experiments, and truth that grows slowly but holds.
Includes Weak Things Strong, Is It a Good Seed?, Why Do I Wander
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Never Moved
I wrote this song from the feeling of being caught in a spiritual skid. Not just having a bad day, but feeling like I am behind the wheel of my own life and still cannot keep the road from shifting underneath me. I press harder for control, but somehow the harder I grip, the more I slide. That is where the line “Here’s the grip I call control” comes from. Sometimes I mistake control for faith. I tell myself I am trying to be responsible, trying to repent, trying to fix what is broken, trying to find the way forward. But underneath all of that, I can still be holding too tightly to my own fear. I can still be trying to save myself by my own strength. This song is about the mercy of realizing that God does not always show the whole road. Most of the time, He gives the next turn. The next prompting. The next small piece of light. The next place to set my feet. And that has to be enough, because faith is not waiting until the fog is gone. Faith is choosing to move toward Him while the fog still hangs low. A lot of the imagery in this song comes from Lehi’s dream in the Book of Mormon. The mist of darkness, the tree, the path, and the word of God have always felt very real to me. There are seasons when the night seems to draw a circle around what I can see. The fog can make it feel like there is no way out, no sign ahead, no road left. But the fog cannot uproot the tree. Darkness can hide the view, but it cannot move Christ. The doubts in the second verse are the kind that come when you are already tired: “You’ve stalled out before, why try to start once more?” That kind of shame does not always sound loud at first. Sometimes it sounds reasonable. Sometimes it sounds like memory. Sometimes it sounds like proof that you are too far gone or too repetitive in your weakness. But the word of God cuts a clearing through those lies. The heart of the song is this line: “Your hand never moved—it was me lettin’ go.” That is my testimony of repentance. Repentance is not me convincing a reluctant God to come back to me. It is me discovering, again and again, that He was still there. Still reaching. Still calling. Still waiting. Still proving His love. God does not drag me home. He honors my agency. He lets me choose. But He also does not give up on me when I am slow to choose Him. So many times, I have thought He was distant, when really I was the one clutching the wheel, staring at the fog, and letting go of His hand. This song is my reminder that I do not need to see the whole road to trust the Lord. I do not need perfect control to be safe in Him. I can give Him my heart, my hope, and even the grip I have been calling control. And when I turn back to Him, I find He never moved.
How I Pray
This song came from paying attention to how people, and myself, often pray. Next time you are in church or saying your own prayer at night, take a step back into third person, and just listen to the words and what is actually be asked for. My family prays together every night, or almost every night. Sometimes we are locked in. Sometimes we are distracted. But we do it consistently, and over time I started noticing patterns. Not just in my prayers, but in the way people talk to God in general. A lot of prayers focus on asking God to change things around us. Open doors. Remove obstacles. Make something easier. Fix a situation. And there is nothing wrong with asking. But I started realizing how often those prayers are really about control. In my work, I see people operate from an external locus of control all the time. Their happiness and even their ability to function depends on something outside of them changing. That same mindset shows up in prayer. We ask God to rearrange circumstances instead of asking Him to shape us inside them. The first verse reflects that posture. Asking the night to change its plans. Asking for things to line up cleanly. And then the realization hits. A lot of what we ask for would require God to override agency or remove the very conditions that allow growth to happen. The chorus is where the shift happens. I stop asking for the storm to move and start asking to see clearly inside it. To understand what it is doing to me. To have the strength to endure it well. The line "if the path will not rearrange then rearrange my view" is the center of this song. Prayer stops being about changing fate and starts being about alignment. God refines. Prayer teaches us how to survive the refinement.
My First Twelve
**The Story Behind “First Twelve”** This song started at my oldest daughter’s seminary graduation. I was sitting there as a dad, proud of her, proud of the work she had put in, and probably doing what most parents do at those things. I was watching her, thinking about how fast time moves, and trying to act normal while my heart was quietly getting beat up a little bit. Then the stake president said something that landed on me hard. He talked about how God gave us His Only Begotten Son. His first and best. His perfect offering. His ultimate gift to all of us. And then he made the point that God’s request to us has been pretty consistent from the beginning. He asks for priority. He asks for the firstling of the flock. The firstfruits. The first tenth. The first and best part, before everything else starts claiming ownership over us. Then he made it painfully practical. The first twelve minutes of the day. Ten minutes to read. Two minutes to pray. That was it. And honestly, it wrecked me a little because it was so simple that I had no good excuse for it. I can give my attention to just about anything. I can wake up and check my phone. I can look at messages. I can scroll headlines. I can check sports scores. I can check weather I already knew was coming. I can hand the first piece of my mind to the world without even thinking about it. Then somehow, later in the day, I act like giving God a few leftover minutes is the same thing as giving Him my heart. That was the idea that became this song. “First Twelve” is about the first battle of the day. It is about that little moment before the day starts running, before responsibility starts barking, before the phone gets its claws in, before I begin making tiny trades with my attention. The song is not about pretending I have mastered this. I have not. It is actually the opposite. It is me admitting that I have treated small moments like they were harmless when they were probably shaping more of me than I wanted to admit. Twelve minutes sounds almost laughably small. That is part of why I love the idea. God is not asking me to climb a mountain before breakfast. He is asking for the first clean part of me. Before I am distracted. Before I am irritated. Before I am impressive. Before I start performing for the day. Just the first twelve. Ten to hear Him. Two to tell the truth. That is the whole song. It is a song about priority. It is a song about attention. It is a song about the tiny daily offering that might not look like much to anybody else, but could quietly change the direction of a life. And as a father, hearing that at my daughter’s seminary graduation made it even heavier for me. Because I do not just want my kids to believe in God in theory. I want them to see me give Him priority in practice. I want them to know that discipleship is built in real minutes, on real mornings, in real homes, by real people who are trying again. That is what “First Twelve” means to me. It is the reminder that the first thing I give away may be the first thing changing me.
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The Study · Seminary 2026
Overcoming Self: Learning to Be Humble
Overcoming Self: Learning to Be Humble Someone corrects you in front of your friends. Maybe it is a parent, a coach, a teacher. Your chest gets tight. Your face goes hot. Something
Read today's thought
“He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear the Lord and put their trust in him.”
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