Tag: Brokeness

Idolatry Is Killing the Church: Putting Jesus Above Politics

There is a quiet crisis unfolding within the Church today—one that is not always visible from the outside, yet deeply felt in the spirit. It is not persecution from the world, nor a lack of resources, nor even declining attendance. It is something far more dangerous: idolatry.

Idolatry is not just the worship of carved images or ancient gods. It is anything that takes the rightful place of Jesus in our hearts. And today, one of the most subtle and pervasive forms of idolatry in the Church is the elevation of politics above Christ.

When political identity becomes more important than spiritual identity, something has gone terribly wrong. When believers are more passionate about defending a party than proclaiming the Gospel, we have misplaced our allegiance. When unity in Christ is sacrificed for political agreement, we are no longer building the Kingdom—we are dividing it.

Jesus never called us to be ambassadors of political systems. He called us to be ambassadors of His Kingdom.

In John 18:36, Jesus said, “My kingdom is not of this world.” Yet many in the Church today live as though it is. We cling to earthly power, believing it will accomplish what only the Holy Spirit can do. We justify attitudes, words, and actions that contradict the very teachings of Christ, all in the name of protecting a political cause.

This is not righteousness. This is idolatry.

The early Church changed the world not through political dominance, but through radical love, humility, and unwavering devotion to Jesus. They didn’t have influence in government—but they had the power of the Gospel. They didn’t seek control—they sought surrender.

Somewhere along the way, we traded the cross for a platform, the Gospel for a talking point, and the mission of Christ for the mission of man.

The result? A watching world that no longer sees Jesus clearly through His Church.

If we are honest, many people outside the Church associate Christianity more with political arguments than with the love of Christ. That should grieve us. Because Jesus said the world would know us by our love—not our affiliations, not our opinions, not our ability to win debates.

The solution is not to abandon civic responsibility or ignore the issues of our day. Christians can and should engage in society. But our engagement must flow from our identity in Christ—not replace it.

We must return to our first love.

Jesus must be above every ideology, every platform, every candidate, and every cause. Our hope is not in governments, but in God. Our mission is not to win elections, but to win hearts. Our calling is not to mirror the world, but to reflect Christ.

It starts with humility. Repenting where we have allowed politics to shape our faith instead of allowing our faith to shape how we engage the world.

It continues with realignment. Re-centering our lives on the teachings of Jesus—His compassion, His truth, His grace, His holiness.

And it is sustained by surrender. Daily choosing to lay down every idol, visible or hidden, and declaring with our lives: Jesus is Lord.

The Church does not need more political power. It needs more spiritual authority. It needs believers who are so rooted in Christ that nothing else can take His place.

Idolatry is killing the Church—but it doesn’t have to.

If we lift Jesus back to where He belongs—above all things—we may just see revival begin again. ~OC

0

All-Time Low

The bar for character and respect among our politicians in America has been lowered so dramatically that it almost feels invisible. What once required integrity, humility, and a genuine sense of service now seems optional—so much so that you don’t even have to jump anymore to clear it. As Christians, this reality should not simply frustrate us; it should challenge us. Scripture reminds us in Philippians 4:8 to dwell on what is true, noble, right, pure, and admirable. When public leadership drifts from these values, it becomes even more important for believers to stand firmly in them, not just in what we expect from others, but in how we live our own lives.

It’s easy to point fingers at leaders and lament the cultural decline, but Jesus calls us to a higher standard. In Matthew 5:13–16, we are described as the salt and light of the world—preserving what is good and illuminating what is right. If the moral bar has fallen in politics, then the responsibility of Christians is not to lower our expectations, but to raise our witness. We are called to model respect, truthfulness, and grace in our conversations, even when others do not. Our hope is not in human leaders, but in God’s unchanging character. And through our daily actions, we can reflect His righteousness in a world that desperately needs it. ~OC

0

No Authority

Today’s a new day!

Fear is a powerful emotion, but as a believer, it does not have authority over your life. Scripture reminds us time and time again that God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind. When fear tries to creep in—whether it’s fear of the unknown, fear of failure, or fear of loss—you can stand firm knowing that it does not come from God. Instead, it is something you are called to resist through faith. God’s presence in your life is greater than any anxiety that tries to take hold, and His promises are unshakable even when your circumstances feel uncertain.

Walking in freedom from fear requires trust. It means choosing to believe God’s truth over your feelings. Fear may speak loudly, but it does not have the final say—God does. When you anchor your heart in His Word, you begin to see that fear loses its grip. You are not defined by your worries or limited by your doubts; you are defined by who God says you are: chosen, loved, and secure in Him. As you continue to lean into His presence, you’ll find that courage rises, peace settles in, and fear fades into the background where it belongs—powerless and without authority over your life. ~OC

0

Through The Eyes Of A Thief

The sky darkens in a way I’ve never seen before, though I’ve spent my life in the shadows. I hang here, condemned, my body wracked with pain, my past heavier than the crossbeam upon my shoulders. I deserve this, I know it. Every selfish choice, every hardened moment has led me to this hill. Beside me, another man curses, demanding rescue, demanding proof. But I have no demands left—only the bitter clarity that comes when there is nothing left to lose. And then I look at Him.

There is something different about the man in the middle. He does not spit back insults. He does not fight for breath with rage, but with mercy. I hear Him pray—not for Himself, but for those who have nailed Him here. “Father, forgive them.” Forgive them? In that moment, the weight of my own guilt presses deeper, yet strangely, hope flickers where despair once lived. If He can ask forgiveness for them, could there be mercy even for me?

With what strength I have left, I speak—not to mock, but to confess. I deserve this. He does not. And then, with a trembling voice, I ask the unthinkable: “Remember me.” Not save me from this cross, not erase my past—but remember me. It is a small plea from a broken man. Yet His reply is immediate, certain, and filled with a grace I have never known: “Today, you will be with me in paradise.” In the shadow of death, I find life. On a cross meant for punishment, I receive a promise.

As the darkness deepens, fear loosens its grip. My circumstances have not changed, but everything else has. The man beside me is not just another condemned soul—He is a King whose kingdom begins where mine ends. And somehow, by His mercy, I am invited in. This is Good Friday through my eyes: not the end of a life, but the beginning of eternity. ~OC

0

Comfortable, But Miserable

Today’s a new day! We are living in one of the easiest eras in human history. With a few taps on a screen, we can access more information than entire generations before us could gather in a lifetime. We enjoy conveniences that kings and queens once could not imagine—climate-controlled homes, instant communication, endless entertainment, and medical advancements that have extended life expectancy across the globe. In many parts of the world, particularly here in the United States, comfort and accessibility are woven into daily life. Yet despite all this ease, anxiety, depression, burnout, and emotional exhaustion are rising at alarming rates. We are informed, connected, and comfortable—yet deeply weary.

This contrast reveals a spiritual truth: comfort does not equal peace. Information does not equal wisdom. And constant connectivity does not equal true community. Scripture reminds us in Ecclesiastes that “the more knowledge increases, the more sorrow increases.” We are bombarded with news, opinions, crises, and comparisons every single day. Social media invites us to measure our lives against curated highlights. Work follows us home through emails and notifications. Our souls were not designed to carry the weight of the entire world’s problems at once.

Jesus offers a different way. In Matthew 11:28, He says, “Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Notice that He does not promise more information, more productivity, or more control. He promises rest. True rest is not found in better algorithms or more efficient schedules—it is found in surrender. It is found in laying our anxious thoughts before God and trusting that He is sovereign even when the world feels overwhelming.

Perhaps the reason mental health struggles are at an all-time high in the most comfortable age is because we have tried to replace dependence on God with dependence on convenience. Comfort can numb us, but it cannot heal us. Technology can connect us, but it cannot restore our souls. Only Christ can do that. As believers, we are invited to slow down, to unplug, to pray, and to remember that our worth is not measured by productivity or performance but by the unchanging love of God.

In the easiest of times, may we choose the deeper path. May we seek not just comfort, but communion. Not just information, but transformation. And may we find that even in an anxious age, the peace of Christ is still available—steady, unshaken, and freely given. ~OC

***Check out the Spoken Word version of this post at my YouTube channel Todd E. Shoemaker Music.

0

Health Update

Today, I was released from the hospital. My condition is still considered very serious, but my medical team felt I would be more comfortable at home. Walking through my own front door felt surreal — a mix of gratitude, relief, and the quiet weight of reality. Hospitals have a rhythm of their own: monitors beeping, nurses checking in, the steady hum of constant care. Home is different. Home is where the fight becomes more personal.

My body and mind have become very tired of this long health journey. There’s a kind of exhaustion that sleep doesn’t fix — the kind that settles deep into your bones after years of pushing through appointments, procedures, waiting rooms, and unknowns. I continue to fight, but that fight is getting harder. That’s just me being real with you. Strength doesn’t always look like standing tall and fearless. Sometimes it looks like admitting you’re worn down and showing up anyway.

This journey has stretched me in ways I never imagined. It has taught me that courage can be quiet. That hope can flicker but still refuse to go out. That even on the days when I feel fragile, there is still a part of me choosing to stay, to try, to believe. Being home reminds me that this journey isn’t only physical — it’s emotional, spiritual, relational. It’s allowing yourself to rest without guilt. It’s letting others help. It’s accepting that you can be both strong and struggling at the same time.

I hope my health journey can help someone else walking out their own crazy beautiful journey. If you’re in the middle of yours — tired, uncertain, wondering how much more you can carry — please know you’re not weak for feeling that way. You’re human. And even when the fight feels heavier than ever, there is something incredibly powerful about your decision to keep going. We don’t always get to choose our battles, but we do get to choose to face them with honesty. Today, I’m choosing honesty. And I’m choosing to keep fighting, one breath at a time. ~OC

0

Where’s The Iron?

Today’s a new day. And before I say anything else, I want to say thank you to the very few friends who have stayed by my side during this crazy, beautiful health journey. You know who you are. You are definitely in the minority. Your texts, your calls, your presence — not just your emojis — have meant more than you’ll ever know. It’s both funny and heartbreaking how someone can be celebrated as the “flavor of the month” for a season in the Christian community, applauded, platformed, and praised… yet the moment that same person enters a difficult health season, many quietly disappear. Some walk away from the responsibility to love and care as quickly as you can say, “Bless your heart, I’ll be praying for you.”

I’ve seen this especially in Christian men’s circles. Brotherhood is preached. Loyalty is applauded. Accountability is emphasized. But when things get uncomfortable — when illness lingers, when strength looks like weakness, when there’s nothing flashy or impressive to celebrate — friendships often fade. A thumbs up on a post. Prayer hands in a text. Maybe an occasional visit to check a box. And while those gestures aren’t meaningless, they’re not the fullness of brotherhood either. I’m not writing this from a place of anger. I’m writing from disappointment. There’s a difference. Disappointment comes from believing we can do better — that we’re called to do better.

Over the years, I’ve sat in countless men’s Bible studies where words like “iron sharpens iron” and “we’re in this together” are boldly proclaimed. Yet consistent, sacrificial friendship — the kind that shows up over and over again — is rare. And I share this not just for myself, but for the many brothers silently carrying their own battles. Health struggles. Mental strain. Financial pressure. Family heartbreak. So many men are walking through something and feel like they’re walking alone. That shouldn’t be the testimony of the Church.

I truly pray no one ever has to walk the specific health road I’m on. But if you ever do face your own long night, I pray you don’t just receive words — I pray you feel presence. I pray you’re surrounded by brothers who stay. Brothers who check in consistently. Brothers who sit in silence when needed. Brothers who don’t vanish when the spotlight fades.

Today’s a new day. And maybe this is a call for all of us — myself included — to love deeper, stay longer, and live out the brotherhood we so easily preach about.

Thanks for taking the time to read this. May the love and peace of God rest upon each of you. ~OC

0

Rise And Live Again

Today’s a new day!
In the silence of the midnight hour,
When the weight of the world feels strong,
There’s a whisper breaking through the dark,
A steady voice, a healing son
When my strength begins to fade away,
And my heart can barely stand,
I remember where my help comes from—
Held in nail-scarred hands.


It’s the power of God’s hope that lifts me,
The power of His unfailing love,
The power of His sweet compassion
Pouring down from above
His grace is more than enough for me,
His peace calms every storm within,
In the power of His forgiveness
I rise and live again.


When regret tries to rewrite my past,
And shame knocks at my door,
His mercy speaks a better word
Than I have ever heard before
He doesn’t see my brokenness
As something to condemn,
He wraps me in His righteousness
And calls me His child again.


In a world that’s torn by hurt and fear,
Where hearts are slow to trust,
His Spirit breathes a deeper truth—
From ashes, beauty comes from dust
He teaches us to love like Him,
To serve and not divide,
To carry hope into the night
With mercy as our guide.


Hope for the weary,
Love for the lost,
Grace that was given
No matter the cost
Peace like a river,
Forgiveness so wide—
All of His power
Now living inside. ~OC

0

With Tears

Today’s a new day! Yesterday, as I scrolled through social media, I was struck by a disturbing post shared by the current President of the United States—an image involving a former President and First Lady that many, myself included, perceived as racist and deeply offensive. What troubled me just as much as the post itself was the near-total silence that followed from Christian leaders, organizations and the Christian community as a whole. I looked for statements, condemnations, or even thoughtful reflections grounded in Scripture, but found very little. That silence was deafening. It raises a painful question: how can the Christian community remain quiet—or worse, quietly supportive—when words and actions so clearly contradict the character and teachings of Christ?

This moment exposes a deeper concern that has been growing in my heart for some time. Too many Christians appear to have chosen political allegiance over Gospel faithfulness. When loyalty to a party or a person outweighs our commitment to love, truth, humility, and justice, something has gone terribly wrong. Jesus did not call His followers to power, outrage, or mockery; He called us to love our neighbors, defend the marginalized, and speak truth with grace. When the Church mirrors the cruelty, division, and bitterness of the world, rather than standing apart from it, we lose our witness. It is hard not to imagine Jesus weeping as He watches His Church drift further from His example, trading compassion for convenience and conviction for comfort.

If the teachings and love of Jesus are to remain alive in the Church and the Christian community, we must be willing to speak—even when it is uncomfortable, even when it costs us politically or socially. Silence in the face of injustice is not neutrality; it is a choice. The Gospel demands more from us. It calls us back to Christ-centered courage, where love is louder than hate, truth is stronger than fear, and faithfulness to Jesus outweighs every earthly allegiance. ~OC

0

Beyond the Chaos

Today’s a new day! My heart breaks for America,

Turn on the news and all I see is chaos,

A country divided, fractured and torn.

I don’t care if you voted left, right, or somewhere in between,

If your heart’s not breaking for the hurt and pain we see,

You might need to check your pulse and see if you’re still alive.

We scream and we shout, we dig in our heels,

But the truth is, we’re dying, we’re losing our way.

We’re so busy building walls, we’re forgetting to build bridges,

We’re so busy pointing fingers, we’re forgetting to hold hands.

Dear God, please help America come together,

Put away our differences, and actually live

Like the United States of America.

Help us see the humanity in each other,

Help us hear the cries of the broken and the pain.

Help us love like You loved, with a love that’s radical and true,

A love that unites, a love that heals, a love that’s new.

We need a revival, a awakening,

A return to compassion, to empathy, to love.

We need to see each other, not as enemies, but as brothers and sisters,

United in our struggles, in our hopes, in our dreams.

Let’s rise up, let’s rise above,

The noise, the hate, the fear, the pride.

Let’s be the change, let’s be the love,

That America needs, that the world needs, that we all need today. ~OC

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑