Third Day: Cover Story (October 2025)

“Being from Atlanta, we saw The Waiting head out in their van and thought, man, if we ever get to that point—where we can leave for a week of shows and come back home—we’ve made it. We set our sights pretty low, because we were doing that after about six months. God carried us way past where we’d envisioned.”

We’ve all had the dream. We’ve all stood in front of the mirror and pretended to be the front man of an arena-level rock band. Those ambitions are soaked into the DNA of Americana. For Third Day, the dream was humbler — just enough to tell their friends a good story one day.

“I remember thinking, if we get a record deal and we can put out two records and drive across the country a couple of times, then in about three or four years we’ll be done and can go get real jobs,” Mac admitted. “That was the dream. I mean, sure, Mark and I thought maybe we could be as big as Petra one day. But the reality was you’re never going to do that. So maybe we make a couple of records, do this for a few years, and that’ll be a fun story to tell.”

Mark grinned at the memory. “Being from Atlanta, we saw The Waiting head out in their van and thought, man, if we ever get to that point—where we can leave for a week of shows and come back home—we’ve made it. We set our sights pretty low, because we were doing that after about six months. God carried us way past where we’d envisioned.”

The sun had already set when the four of them finally gathered in the same room. Mac Powell, Mark Lee, David Carr, and Tai Anderson — collectively known as Third Day. They’re a little older now, wiser, and heavier in the step. Until today the band hadn’t played together in more than a decade.

 

The day had been long. They’d spent it in front of cameras doing press, the weight of the reunion building since the announcement over the summer. There was no soft launch, no hidden rehearsal club show. Just four prizefighters dusting themselves off, stepping into the ring again with little ring rust and a lot of expectation. From the first chord of *God of Wonders*, the years melted.

“It doesn’t feel like we haven’t played music together in ten years. It just feels like, oh, maybe we took a month off and we’re back,” Mac said. “Nobody’s playing any wrong chords or forgetting the songs. Hopefully after we do these things a few more times, we’ll get the tightness we used to have back in the day. But it is really surprising that it doesn’t feel to me like it’s been years. It feels like a couple months.”

Mark confessed the pressure had been real. “You just don’t know how it’s going to be. Almost instantly, as soon as we started playing, it’s like, okay, we’re going to be all right. We remember how to play our instruments, we remember how to be a band. So it’s going to be okay.”

David had his own metaphor. “I’ve been just waiting for the bus for nine years. I was just standing there with my bags going, when’s it coming?”

The heaviness of that moment didn’t last long. Within minutes the four of them slipped back into the rhythm of old friends. They started bickering about when exactly they’d last been in the same room: was it January? February? Maybe March? Mark laughed, “You just witnessed the first fight already.” Mac deadpanned, “I’m tired of you trying to dictate…” The room cracked up with the rhythm of Spinal Tap.

Tai remembered the chaos of their early years, when documenting everything was part of the fun. “I bought a digital eight camcorder and put it on the back of a remote control truck and drove it around the studio that we built. And Mac’s just like, ‘Can you just be quiet? I’m trying to record a vocal.’”

That’s the band in one snapshot: the pranks and the prayers, the squabbles and the songs.

“That was the dream. I mean, sure, Mark and I thought maybe we could be as big as Petra one day. But the reality was you’re never going to do that. So maybe we make a couple of records, do this for a few years, and that’ll be a fun story to tell.”

Beneath the laughter there was a seriousness in how they approached this reunion. What struck me in that room was the weight to the way they played. No tracks, no loops, no safety net. Just four guys plugging in their instruments and letting it rip. In a world where so much music is polished within an inch of its life, watching Third Day just be a band felt rare, almost rebellious. I told them it was refreshing to see a band play without worrying about production tricks or layers of backing tracks. When I got their input list and it basically read “microphones,” I thought, that’s it. That’s the real deal.

David leaned forward, serious. “I miss bands because it felt like we just entered this era of not a lot of bands, and I totally accept that music evolves, it ebbs and flows, it goes through different seasons. But I think a lot of people missed bands, and there will always be a demand for that. It’ll come and go in different ways. And so I’m just grateful that we have a chance to come back out and do that again for people, and be one of those bands that they loved, but give them a new season of it.”

That’s the energy they’re carrying into this tour. Not nostalgia. Not a legacy act dragging itself back onstage. Four friends who’ve made peace with the past and stepped into the future with nothing to prove and everything to play for.

If the day proved the fire was still there, the question that lingered was why now? Third Day could have let their legacy rest. They could have faded into the history books as one of the greats. Instead, after ten years apart, they were suddenly back with an arena tour bigger than anything they’d done before. “People ask when’s the Third Day reunion, when are you guys going to make music together again?” Mac said. “And my answer has always been the same: ‘Well, one day I hope to get to do it one day.’ And that one day is here. So yeah, I’m thankful.”

Now the challenge is less about keeping time and more about keeping stamina. “I want to show up with more than what I left with,” David said. “I’ve got a great space where I can get alone, work through everything, and really try to elevate my skill beyond where it left off.”

Contracts don’t let them coast either. “We contractually… have to play two hours,” Mac said with a grin. “We’ve maybe once or twice in the history of Third Day played two hours. So now we have to. And so you talk about endurance, that’s for all of us. But there’s also a lot of music we get to play.”

The “must-play” list has ballooned to 17 songs — non-negotiables. But beyond that, the plan is curveballs, deep cuts, and surprise songs. Mac laughed, “Each night, yeah, there’ll be some stuff that people are going to hear if they went to every show. But there’s going to be a lot of different stuff each night, new surprises… That’s the scary yet exciting part.”

“We’re not coming to you as a signed record company artist with some new product we’re trying to pitch. We’re just like, hey, we’re Third Day and we’re celebrating. It’s not about us. It’s really about what God did through the band.”

Tai leaned in. “I probably go to the most shows out of all of us, across genres, I just love studying how artists put their shows together. And honestly, I think there’s a real genius to the way Taylor Swift built her Eras Tour. My daughter’s a huge Swiftie, so she had the livestream up every day. It became our thing. Whenever Taylor announced a new record, she’d text me right away, and we’d do vinyl listening parties together. It’s a great father-daughter bond.”

He grinned. “Taylor masterfully had a ‘secret song’ every single night. Fans knew they’d get the hits, but they also got something unique, something unrepeatable. That’s brilliant. For us, it means we honor the classics people expect, but we also find ways to give them surprises. Something fresh. Something that makes every night different.”

It’s a strange equation: four men in their fifties, a decade removed from their last tour, now tasked with playing longer sets than they ever did in their prime. But instead of dread, they’re leaning into it like a challenge. As Tai put it, “There’s no reason where each one of us can’t show up better than we ever were. We have the time to prepare, and that’s a gift we almost never had before.”

When Third Day returns to the stage, it won’t just be for the same fans. Time has elapsed and a new generation has arrived. This music has connected with four generations of believers, each carrying a different Third Day “era.”

Mark smiled. “I’m totally going to rip off Bart from MercyMe here,” he said. “But he once said, ‘We used to be your mom’s favorite band. Now we’re your grandma’s favorite band.’” He isn’t wrong. “It is a multi-generational thing. Even my own daughter said to me, ‘Dad, do you ever think about doing any Third Day again? It just feels like it’s time.’ And that conversation was the turning point for me. I knew it was time to get on board.”

Mac added that families were always part of Third Day’s heartbeat. “For a long time, Third Day was the youth group band,” he said. “But when we got to a certain point, where we really prided ourselves in families coming to concerts. You’d see parents, grandparents, kids. And we’ve always loved that. We’re all family men. Now, to see some of those same fans bringing their kids and even grandkids? That’s a beautiful thing.”

David nodded, pointing out how freeing this reunion feels. “It’s almost like we’re the Third Day cover band. Just playing the songs people loved and letting it be that. And that’s really freeing. We don’t have to strive hard or let our motivations get conflicted. We can just be the band.”

And it’s not just the fans who’ve lived a lot of life since the farewell. The band has too. “We’ve all been through some hard things,” David said later. “Tests and trials. My faith’s been tested. But we know what we stand for. We don’t have to have all the answers, but we do know that what we sing about, what we play about, is real. I don’t think we’d want to do it if it wasn’t coming from a real place.”

“There’s no reason where each one of us can’t show up better than we ever were. We have the time to prepare, and that’s a gift we almost never had before.”

For fans, it may feel like Third Day just slipped away for a little while. But for the band, those years stretched out. “A lot of fans just don’t even realize that it ever kind of went away,” David said. “They’re like, oh, when’s the new album coming? When’s the next tour? And I’m thinking, the one after eight or nine years of not touring?”

That unfinished business is what makes this reunion resonate so deeply, but it doesn’t necessarily mean anything will exist beyond it. David said it flatly: “There’s no talk of the future beyond this. It’s just, let’s do this really well. Give people what they want to hear. That’s really freeing.”

Mac agreed. “We never wanted to make some big announcement about being over. We knew there might come a time we’d want to come back together… and now we get that chance.”

Here is your chance. A full arena tour, two-hour sets, surprises mixed with anthems, families spanning at least three generations singing along. But as much as it feels like a beginning, the band insists fans should take nothing for granted.

Third Day is back, standing in the glow of thirty years of songs that shaped lives and lit faith on fire. They return with laughter still in their voices, calluses still on their hands, and a consuming fire that feels as urgent now as it did on Day One. There is a beauty in the temporary, in knowing this season may not last forever, and that’s part of what makes it matter. The fleeting is often the most powerful because it demands you be present, it asks you to savor every chord, every chorus, every prayer sung into the night. That’s okay. Not everything has to last forever. The music can be eternal, but the opportunity to see them live won’t be. Buy your tickets and enjoy what is sure to be an incredible night of music. That’s the best way to let the band know we’ve always loved them… and we always will.