Tag: Brokeness

Lack of Leadership

There is something deeply troubling about what we are seeing within our United States military.

The men and women who volunteer to serve our nation deserve better than political distractions, culture-war battles, and leadership that seems more interested in appearances than in the people entrusted to its care.

What happens in an organization is often a reflection of its leadership—from the head down.

When leadership loses sight of the mission, the people eventually pay the price.

Our military exists to defend this nation. It exists to protect Americans, deter our enemies, respond to threats, and ensure that the United States remains capable of defending itself in an increasingly dangerous world.

That should be the priority.

So when military leadership appears more focused on debates over the color or gender of our soldiers than on their readiness, morale, training, equipment, mental wellbeing, and ability to accomplish the mission, I believe we have a serious leadership problem.

And when tragic incidents occur aboard ships such as the USS Abraham Lincoln, we should be asking hard questions.

Not partisan questions.

Not political questions.

Leadership questions.

Are our sailors adequately trained?

Do they have the resources they need?

Are maintenance and readiness being taken seriously?

Are commanders being held accountable?

Are we listening to the people actually serving aboard these ships?

Are we spending our defense dollars where they will make the greatest difference?

Those questions matter far more to me than whatever political culture war happens to dominate the headlines this week.

Our service members don’t need Washington to constantly find another distraction.

They need leadership.

They need leaders who understand that behind every uniform is a human being—a son, daughter, husband, wife, father, mother, brother, sister, friend, and fellow American.

They deserve leaders who will fight for their wellbeing as fiercely as they expect those service members to fight for our country.

And this isn’t an argument against sports, entertainment, or morale events. Our troops deserve opportunities to relax and enjoy themselves. They deserve camaraderie and moments of fun.

But there is a difference between supporting morale and allowing distractions to become substitutes for leadership.

Dear military leadership: let’s spend more time and money addressing the problems that are actually affecting our military and less time chasing political headlines, building extravagant ballrooms, or putting the spotlight on MMA fights.

Let’s invest in readiness.

Let’s invest in maintenance.

Let’s invest in training.

Let’s invest in our sailors, soldiers, Marines, airmen, guardians, and Coast Guard members.

Let’s make sure they have the equipment, resources, leadership, and support they need to come home safely.

And let’s remember something incredibly important:

The military does not belong to a political party.

It belongs to the American people.

The uniform doesn’t belong to Republicans or Democrats. It belongs to the men and women who raised their right hand and swore an oath to defend the Constitution.

They deserve leadership that takes that oath as seriously as they do.

America doesn’t need leaders who are constantly looking for the next culture war to fight.

America needs leaders willing to fight for the people who actually fight for America.

Our service members deserve nothing less. ~OC

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Jesus Over Tribalism

I have come to a place in my faith where I would rather upset my fellow Christian community by loving the people Jesus called us to love than fit comfortably among Christians united by who they condemn.

That may not always make me popular.

It may not earn me invitations.

It may make some people question my theology, my priorities, or even my faith.

But I can live with that.

Because when I look at Jesus, I don’t see someone building His ministry around determining who was worthy of love.

I see Him moving toward the hurting.

Toward the rejected.

Toward the outcast.

Toward sinners.

Toward people religious society had already written off.

Jesus touched the untouchable.

He ate with people others avoided.

He spoke with people others ignored.

He defended people others condemned.

He showed mercy when others demanded judgment.

And He commanded us to love our neighbors—not just the neighbors who look like us, vote like us, worship like us, think like us, or agree with us.

Love is not supposed to be selective.

If my Christianity requires me to hate someone in order to prove that I belong to the right group, then I need to take another long look at Jesus.

I don’t want to be part of a Christian community that is united primarily by the people it opposes.

I want to be part of a Church united by the One it follows.

Jesus.

I would rather be criticized for loving too many people than praised for condemning too many.

I would rather be accused of having too much compassion than too little.

I would rather stand beside someone who is hurting and remind them that they are loved than stand at a distance and remind them of everything they have done wrong.

That doesn’t mean truth doesn’t matter.

It does.

But Jesus never separated truth from love.

Grace and truth walked together.

So if loving like Jesus makes me uncomfortable to some Christians, I’ll accept the discomfort.

If compassion makes me controversial, so be it.

If welcoming the hurting makes some people question me, I’ll answer with the example of Christ.

Because at the end of the day, I don’t want to be known as someone who was really good at identifying who was wrong.

I want to be known as someone who loved people well.

I want people to encounter Jesus when they encounter me.

Not my politics.

Not my anger.

Not my judgment.

Not my tribe.

Jesus.

There are already enough Christians standing together because of who they condemn.

I want to stand with Christians who are willing to love because of who Jesus is.

So yes…

I would rather upset my fellow Christians by loving the people Jesus called us to love than fit comfortably among Christians united by who they choose to condemn.

Because I would rather be uncomfortable with people while following Jesus…

than comfortable with people while becoming unlike Him.

“By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” — John 13:35

Love isn’t weakness.

Love isn’t compromise.

Love isn’t abandoning truth.

Love is one of the clearest ways we show the world that we belong to Jesus. ~OC

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My Medical Rap Sheet Doesn’t Get The Final Word

Today’s a new day!

Here is my medical rap sheet.

  • Crippling Arthritis — 2002 (Ended up being cancer)
  • Cancer — 2003
  • Parkinson’s Disease — 2007
  • Myasthenia Gravis — 2009
  • Gastroparesis — 2015
  • COVID Long Haulers — 2022
  • Type Two Diabetes 202 (medication induced)
  • Cluster and Migraine Headaches — 2024
  • Dementia — 2024

Looking at that list, many people would probably assume my life is over.

They would assume the best years are behind me. That my dreams have ended. That all that’s left is surviving.

But they would be wrong.

Every single day, I choose life.

I choose to keep making memories with my beautiful bride of twenty-six years. I choose to laugh, to love, and to appreciate the moments that many people rush past.

I choose to continue advocating for other patients who need someone to remind them that they are more than a diagnosis.

I choose to keep fighting against human trafficking because there are people who desperately need hope, justice, and someone willing to stand in the gap.

Does that mean this health journey is easy?

Absolutely not.

There are days filled with pain. Days of exhaustion. Days when my body reminds me of every diagnosis on that list.

But years ago, I made a decision.

This health battle would never become my identity.

My diagnoses describe some of the battles I face—they do not define the man I am.

I refuse to allow illness to steal my purpose. I refuse to let disease dictate my joy. I refuse to surrender the calling God has placed on my life simply because my body doesn’t always cooperate.

Instead, I choose to keep living.

I choose to keep loving.

I choose to keep serving.

I choose to keep overcoming.

If you’re walking through a battle today—whether it’s a health crisis, grief, depression, financial hardship, addiction, or something no one else can see—I want to encourage you.

Don’t let your battle become your identity.

Keep fighting.

Keep making memories.

Keep dreaming.

Keep showing up.

Keep loving the people around you.

Live your life to the fullest, even if it looks different than you once imagined.

Champions aren’t defined by the battles they face.

They’re defined by the courage to keep getting back up.

So today…

Choose hope.

Choose purpose.

Choose joy.

Choose life.

And whatever comes your way, keep overcoming.

Live like a champion. ~OC

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When the Church Chose Power Over the Cross

There is a temptation that has followed the Church since its earliest days.

It is the temptation to believe that changing the world requires political power more than spiritual power.

It whispers that if we can simply gain enough influence, enough seats at the table, enough cultural dominance, then God’s Kingdom will flourish.

But Jesus never asked His followers to seek power.

He asked them to pick up a cross.

Those are two very different paths.

The Way of the Cross

Jesus entered Jerusalem not on a warhorse, but on a donkey.

He wore no crown of gold.

He commanded no army.

He never sought political office.

Instead, He humbled Himself, served the least, loved His enemies, and willingly laid down His life.

When Peter drew his sword to defend Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus rebuked him.

“Put your sword back in its place.”

The Kingdom of God would not be established by force.

It would be established by sacrificial love.

The Cross—not the sword—would become Christianity’s greatest symbol.

A Different Kind of Kingdom

Jesus made His mission unmistakably clear before Pilate:

“My kingdom is not of this world.” (John 18:36)

That statement should forever shape how Christians think about politics.

Earthly governments rise and fall.

Political parties are born and disappear.

Empires come and go.

But the Kingdom of God endures forever.

When the Church forgets that truth, it begins to measure success by elections won instead of lives transformed.

The Seduction of Influence

Influence is not inherently sinful.

Joseph served Pharaoh.

Daniel served Babylon.

Esther influenced a king.

There are faithful believers throughout Scripture who served within governments.

The danger comes when the Church begins depending on political influence instead of the Holy Spirit.

History has shown that whenever the Church becomes too comfortable with worldly power, it often sacrifices its prophetic voice.

Instead of speaking truth to those in authority, it begins protecting them.

Instead of confronting sin wherever it is found, it excuses it when doing so preserves influence.

The prophets of Scripture never operated that way.

Neither did Jesus.

We Forgot Who Our Neighbor Is

Political division has convinced many Christians that those who disagree with us are enemies instead of neighbors.

But Jesus told us to love our neighbors.

Even more challenging, He told us to love our enemies.

The Cross leaves no room for hatred.

No room for contempt.

No room for celebrating the downfall of those made in God’s image.

If our politics make it difficult to love people, then our politics have become a spiritual problem.

The Church Was Never Meant to Mirror the Culture

Too often, the Church has adopted the world’s methods while expecting God’s results.

We have traded humility for outrage.

Grace for suspicion.

Peacemaking for culture wars.

Faithfulness for influence.

The Church was never called to reflect the values of the surrounding culture.

We were called to reflect Christ.

That means telling the truth with courage.

Showing mercy without compromise.

Standing for justice without hatred.

Loving people without demanding that they first become like us.

The Early Church Changed the World

The first Christians possessed almost no political influence.

They had no voting bloc.

No media platform.

No lobbying organization.

No cultural dominance.

Yet within a few centuries, the Gospel had spread throughout the Roman Empire.

Why?

Because believers loved radically.

They cared for plague victims whom others abandoned.

They rescued unwanted children.

They fed the poor.

They welcomed strangers.

They forgave those who persecuted them.

They lived lives that could not be explained apart from Christ.

Their greatest strength was not political power.

It was Christlike love.

Returning to Our First Love

Perhaps the greatest need in today’s Church is not another political strategy.

It is repentance.

Repentance for the times we have defended power more passionately than truth.

Repentance for placing party loyalty above Kingdom loyalty.

Repentance for allowing fear to shape us more than faith.

Repentance for forgetting that our Savior conquered through sacrifice, not domination.

The Church is at its best when it remembers that the Cross always comes before the crown.

The Cross Still Changes the World

Every generation must decide what kind of Church it will become.

One that seeks influence at any cost.

Or one that faithfully follows Jesus, even when it costs everything.

History remembers powerful kingdoms that have long since disappeared.

But it also remembers ordinary believers whose quiet faithfulness changed lives for eternity.

May we never trade the Cross for political power.

May we never confuse national success with spiritual revival.

May we never allow our allegiance to an earthly kingdom to overshadow our devotion to the King of Kings.

The hope of the world has never been found in Washington, Rome, London, or any other seat of earthly power.

The hope of the world has always been, and always will be, Jesus Christ.

May His Church once again become known not for the power it seeks, but for the Savior it follows. ~OC

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You Can’t Outrun What You Won’t Face

Today’s a new day!

One of the hardest lessons in the Christian life is this:

You can’t outrun what you won’t face.

We often try.

We stay busy to avoid the pain.


We distract ourselves from conviction.


We bury wounds beneath success.


We pretend everything is fine while our hearts quietly break.

But the things we refuse to confront eventually confront us.

Unforgiveness grows into bitterness.


Hidden sin steals our joy.


Fear becomes a prison.


Grief that is never processed weighs down our souls.

Jesus never called us to run from our brokenness. He invites us to bring it to Him.

The beautiful truth of the Gospel is that we don’t have to face our struggles alone. Christ walks with us through every valley. The Holy Spirit gives us the courage to confront what we’ve been avoiding, and God’s grace meets us there—not with condemnation, but with mercy, healing, and hope.

Sometimes the greatest act of faith isn’t running harder. It’s stopping long enough to say:

“Lord, here I am. Search my heart. Heal what is broken. Change what needs to change.”

Healing often begins where honesty begins.

Freedom often begins where surrender begins.

And victory often begins the moment we stop running.

Whatever you’ve been avoiding today—a difficult conversation, a painful memory, a lingering sin, a wounded relationship, or a fear you’ve carried for years—don’t keep running.

Bring it to Jesus.

Because what you surrender to Him no longer has to define you. ~OC

“Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” — Psalm 139:23

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Not Dead Yet: A Joyful Rebellion

Today’s a new day!

There is something beautifully rebellious about waking up each morning, opening your eyes, taking a deep breath, and whispering, “Thank You, Jesus.”

In a world that expects you to quit…
choose joy.

In a culture that celebrates outrage…
choose peace.

When pain tells you to give up…
choose hope.

Every smile in the middle of suffering is an act of defiance.

Every prayer whispered through tears is a declaration that darkness doesn’t get the final word.

Every act of kindness in a cynical world is a revolution.

I’ve learned that joy isn’t pretending everything is okay. Joy is looking straight at the storm and saying, “My God is still faithful.”

My body has given me more reasons to complain than I can count. There have been diagnoses, setbacks, fear, uncertainty, and days when simply standing up felt like climbing a mountain.

But here’s the beautiful truth:

I’m not dead yet.

So I still have a purpose.

I still have someone to encourage.

I still have songs to sing.

I still have prayers to pray.

I still have love to give.

I still have a Gospel worth proclaiming.

The enemy may have tried to silence my voice, but he couldn’t silence my praise.

He may have attacked my body, but he couldn’t steal my hope.

He may have shaken my world, but he couldn’t move the Rock on which I stand.

So every day I laugh…

Every day I worship…

Every day I love people…

Every day I forgive…

Every day I choose gratitude…

That is my joyful rebellion.

Because joy confuses despair.

Hope frustrates fear.

Love outlasts hate.

Grace overwhelms guilt.

And Jesus has already won.

If you’re reading this while carrying a burden no one else can see, don’t let your circumstances write the final chapter.

As long as God has given you breath, He has given you purpose.

As long as your heart beats, your story isn’t finished.

So stand up if you can.

Smile if you can.

Sing if you can.

Pray when you can’t.

And if all you can do today is whisper the name of Jesus, that’s enough.

Because the greatest rebellion against darkness is a life that refuses to stop believing in the Light.

Not dead yet.

Still praising.

Still believing.

Still loving.

Still becoming.

Still following Jesus.

And by His grace…

I’m just getting started. ~OC

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Dear God, We Give You This Moment

Today’s a new day!

This past Friday, the church Laura and I are currently attending experienced an unimaginable tragedy. The sixteen-year-old grandson of the founding pastor lost his life in a diving accident.

There are moments in life when words seem painfully inadequate. No explanation can remove the grief. No sermon can erase the tears. No answer can completely satisfy the questions that arise when a young life is taken far too soon.

My heart breaks for his family. It breaks for his friends. It breaks for this church family and for everyone whose life was touched by this remarkable young man.

Today, I simply pray:

Jesus, surround them with Your peace that surpasses all understanding. Hold them close when the silence feels overwhelming. Be their comfort when words fail. Be their strength when every step feels impossible.

Scripture reminds us that “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18). Those words are not clichés. They are promises for moments exactly like this.

As believers, we don’t grieve without hope. We grieve honestly. We cry. We ask questions. We lean on one another. And we cling to the One who has already conquered death through the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

While none of us can fully understand why tragedies like this happen, I believe God is able to meet people in the deepest valleys of life. Throughout history, He has brought hope where there was despair, healing where there were wounds, and faith where there were questions. I pray He will do that again in our community.  

My prayer is that, even in the midst of heartbreaking loss, people throughout our county will encounter the love, grace, and presence of Jesus in a way they never have before. I pray that those who have drifted from God will seek Him. I pray that those who have never known Him will discover the hope found only in Christ. I pray that our churches will become places where the hurting are welcomed, the broken are loved, and the Gospel is lived with compassion.

Revival has often begun not in moments of comfort, but in moments when people recognized their desperate need for God. I pray that our response to this tragedy will be to love more deeply, serve more faithfully, pray more earnestly, and point more clearly to Jesus.

Today, there are no easy answers.

Only a Savior who weeps with those who weep.

Only a Shepherd who walks through the valley with His sheep.

Only a King who defeated death and promises eternal life to those who trust in Him.

So today, as one church family, one community, and one body of Christ…

Dear God, we give You this moment.

Bring comfort where there is sorrow.

Bring peace where there is anxiety.

Bring hope where there is despair.

Bring healing where hearts have been shattered.

And may Your love shine so brightly through Your people that many come to know Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior.

Please join me in praying for this precious family, for the church family, and for everyone affected by this heartbreaking loss.~OC

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Faces Covered, Hearts Exposed: What This Train Car Teaches Us About Hate And Christian Nationalism

Courage vs Cowards

Today’s a new day! Here are my thoughts on this photo taken on the Metro in Washington, D.C. The following are my thoughts and opinions. If you happen to disagree with me, I encourage you to take it up with God.

Look at this photo. A young woman sits alone on a train, surrounded by dozens of men in matching uniforms, faces covered, patches bearing flags. She meets the camera’s eye. They refuse to be seen.

This image is a parable. And it’s the opposite of the Gospel.

The Gospel unmasks. Hate hides.

Jesus never hid His face. He wept publicly, prayed publicly, died publicly. “I have spoken openly to the world,” He told His accusers. (John 18:20)

Hate loves masks. It loves anonymity, mobs, and intimidation. Why? Because deeds done in darkness don’t survive the light (John 3:20). When an ideology needs to cover faces to deliver its message, it’s already confessed something about that message.

Christian Nationalism too often puts a mask on Jesus. It takes the crucified Savior and dresses Him in the uniform of earthly power. But Christ doesn’t need our flags stitched to His robe. “My kingdom is not of this world” (John 18:36). When we try to make it of this world, we end up looking like this train car: coercive, not compelling.

The Gospel draws near. Hate surrounds.

Notice the posture here. One person, isolated. Many others, standing, looming. That’s not how Jesus moved through crowds. 

He touched lepers when others stepped back. He invited Zacchaeus down from a tree when the crowd boxed him out. He stopped for the woman no one else would look at. The Gospel breaks circles of exclusion. Hate forms them.

Christian Nationalism, at its worst, baptizes “us vs. them.” It defines who belongs and who threatens. But the cross destroyed the dividing wall of hostility (Ephesians 2:14). If our faith needs an enemy to stay strong, it isn’t Christian faith. It’s civil religion with a cross necklace.

The Gospel sees the individual. Hate sees categories.

I don’t know the woman’s name in the photo. You don’t either. But God does. She isn’t a symbol. She’s a person made in His image (Genesis 1:27)

Movements built on hate don’t see people. They see demographics, threats, problems to solve. They make you afraid to sit alone on a train in your own city. 

Jesus’s first question to people was often, “What do you want me to do for you?” (Mark 10:51). He saw individuals. Christian Nationalism tends to see a “nation to save” and turns people into footnotes. When saving “America” matters more than loving the person next to you on the Metro, we’ve lost the plot.

So what do we do when the train car feels like the world?

Uncover our own faces: Confess where contempt has crept into our hearts. It’s easy to hate the masked men too. Jesus doesn’t give us that option. “Love your enemies” (Luke 6:27) includes them.

Sit with the isolated: Who in your life feels like that woman on the train? The Gospel moves us toward them, not away. Proximity kills caricatures.

Refuse the idols of power and fear: The early church changed the Roman Empire without voting, lobbying, or taking up swords. They did it by loving radically and dying well. Our witness still works that way.

Remember what we’re witnessing to: Not a Christian nation. A crucified Christ. “We preach Christ crucified… the power of God and the wisdom of God” (1 Corinthians 1:23-24). 

This photo should grieve us. Not just because of what it says about them, but because of what it reveals about us. Every one of those masked hearts was knit together by God. Every one of them is someone Christ died for. So is she. So are you. So am I.

Hate says, “Cover your face and find your strength in numbers.” 

Jesus says, “Take up your cross and find your life by losing it.”

The train is still running. The choice is still ours. Which kingdom will we board? ~OC

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Standing With Our Haitian Neighbors

“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” — Galatians 6:2

My heart is saddened by the recent Supreme Court decision allowing the federal government to move forward with changes affecting Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for many Haitians living and working throughout the United States. This decision could ultimately affect more than 300,000 individuals who have built lives, raised families, and contributed to communities across our nation.

These are not just numbers on a government report. They are mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, coworkers, neighbors, church members, healthcare workers, teachers, business owners, and friends. They came to America seeking safety, opportunity, and the chance to build a better future. For many, what once looked like the American Dream now feels uncertain and frightening.

As Christians, our first response should never be indifference. Our first response should be compassion.

The Haitian community has enriched countless cities and towns across America through hard work, perseverance, faith, and service. They have strengthened our churches, supported local businesses, cared for the sick, educated our children, and invested in their communities. Their contributions deserve to be recognized and appreciated.

Regardless of where we stand on immigration policy, we should never lose sight of the humanity of the people affected by these decisions. Every person bears the image of God. Every family matters. Every child deserves to know that they are loved.

Throughout Scripture, God repeatedly reminds His people to care for the foreigner, the stranger, and the vulnerable. Our calling is not to harden our hearts but to reflect the compassion and mercy that Christ has shown each of us.

Today, I want the Haitian community to know that you are not forgotten. I am praying for every family facing uncertainty, every parent worried about the future of their children, and every worker wondering what tomorrow may bring. May God surround you with His peace, provide for your needs, and remind you that He is near to the brokenhearted.

I also encourage my fellow Christians to pray, to listen, and to seek ways to support Haitian families in their local communities. If you believe changes should be made to current policies, respectfully contact your elected representatives and make your voice heard through peaceful civic engagement. Our democracy allows us to advocate for policies we believe reflect justice, compassion, and the common good.

The Church has always been at its best when it chooses love over fear, mercy over indifference, and compassion over division.

Let us be known as people who welcome, encourage, pray, and stand beside those who are hurting. May our churches become places where every person—regardless of nationality or background—finds hope, dignity, and the love of Jesus Christ.

My prayers remain with the Haitian community during this difficult season. May God grant wisdom to our nation’s leaders, comfort to every anxious heart, and remind us all that His Kingdom is built not on division, but on love.

Prayer:

Heavenly Father,

We lift up every Haitian family facing uncertainty today. Comfort those who are anxious, strengthen those who feel discouraged, and provide wisdom for our nation’s leaders as they make decisions that affect so many lives.

Help Your Church to be a light in moments of darkness. Give us hearts filled with compassion, words filled with grace, and hands ready to serve. Teach us to love our neighbors as You have loved us.

May justice, mercy, and humility guide our actions, and may the peace of Christ reign in every heart.

In the loving and caring name of Jesus I pray. Amen.

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Discipleship, Relationships Over Numbers

Today’s a new day! 

Over the past few years, I’ve had countless conversations with fellow Christians after church services, over coffee, in Bible studies, and during everyday life.

Different churches.

Different denominations.

Different backgrounds.

Yet one theme continues to surface again and again.

“I love my church…but I still feel alone.”

Those words have stayed with me.

These conversations haven’t come from people who are angry with the Church. Quite the opposite. They faithfully attend, faithfully give, faithfully serve, and genuinely love Jesus.

Yet many quietly admit they feel disconnected.

One friend shared, “I’ve been attending for three years, and I still don’t feel like anyone really knows me.”

Another said, “I know hundreds of faces, but I don’t have anyone I can call when life falls apart.”

Someone else confessed, “I leave encouraged by the sermon, but I still feel spiritually isolated.”

As I listened, I realized these weren’t isolated stories.

I was hearing the same longing over and over.

People aren’t asking for bigger buildings.

They’re asking for deeper relationships.

They’re not looking for more programs.

They’re longing for genuine discipleship.

It made me wonder if, in many churches, we’ve unintentionally traded disciple numbers for attendance numbers.

Attendance matters. Every person who walks through the doors is someone Christ loves deeply. Churches should celebrate every new visitor and every opportunity to share the Gospel.

But attendance has never been the ultimate mission.

Jesus didn’t say, “Go and gather crowds.”

He said, “Go and make disciples.”

Discipleship is personal.

It requires time.

It requires listening.

It requires walking through life’s joys and hardships together.

It means knowing someone’s name, hearing their story, praying over their struggles, and encouraging them to keep following Christ.

That kind of ministry can’t always happen during a Sunday morning service.

It happens in living rooms.

Around dinner tables.

In small groups.

Over coffee.

In hospital waiting rooms.

During phone calls.

Through tears.

Through prayer.

Through simply showing up for one another.

Many of the Christians I’ve spoken with aren’t criticizing their churches.

They’re grieving what they feel is missing.

They long to belong to a spiritual family, not simply attend a weekly gathering.

They want someone to notice when they’re absent.

Someone to ask how they’re doing—and genuinely wait for the answer.

Someone to help them grow in their faith.

The beautiful truth is that many churches are already pursuing this vision with humility and faithfulness. Pastors, elders, deacons, small-group leaders, and volunteers invest countless hours loving and discipling others, often without recognition.

But every church can continue asking an important question:

Are we creating disciples, or are we simply creating attendees?

Imagine what could happen if every mature believer intentionally invested in one younger believer.

Imagine if every newcomer was invited into authentic relationships instead of remaining anonymous.

Imagine if every church member saw themselves not just as someone who attends church but as someone who helps build Christ’s family.

The Church has always been at its strongest when believers walk together.

The world is filled with loneliness.

The Church should be filled with belonging.

My prayer is not that churches become less focused on reaching people.

My prayer is that we become equally passionate about walking with them after they arrive.

Because attendance may introduce someone to the Church.

But discipleship helps them become more like Jesus.

A church can fill every seat in the sanctuary and still leave people feeling alone. But when believers intentionally disciple one another, no one has to walk their journey of faith in isolation.

Prayer:

Dear Jesus, thank You for the gift of Your Church. Help us to be more than people who gather once a week. Make us a family that loves deeply, serves faithfully, and walks alongside one another through every season of life. Give us eyes to notice those who feel unseen, hearts that welcome the lonely, and a renewed commitment to making disciples as Jesus commanded. May our churches be known not only for full sanctuaries but for lives transformed through authentic relationships centered on You. It’s in the mighty and precious name of Jesus we pray. ~OC

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