Mud, Spit and the American Church

Today’s a new day!

I grew up in a different generation.

We played in the dirt until the streetlights came on. We climbed trees, rode our bikes without helmets, scraped our knees, and somehow survived. We came home covered in mud, sweat, and stories.

If you had something on your face, chances are your mom or grandma would lick her thumb or use a little spit to wipe it away before anyone else noticed. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was an act of love. Nobody thought twice about it.

It was a simpler time.

I also grew up in churches where pastors weren’t trying to become celebrities. They weren’t worried about likes, followers, or building a personal brand. They opened the Bible, preached the truth, called people to repentance, and pointed everyone to Jesus. Sometimes the sermons made you uncomfortable. Sometimes they stepped on your toes. But you left knowing you had encountered God’s Word, not just another motivational speech.

Today, so much has changed.

Many children rarely play outside. Screens have replaced backyards. Adventure has been traded for entertainment.

Many parents would never imagine using spit to clean a child’s face. We’ve become increasingly concerned with appearances, convenience, and comfort.

And sadly, much of the American Church has changed too.

Far too many pulpits have exchanged the Gospel for self-improvement.

Messages about sin have been replaced with messages about success. Repentance has been replaced with positive thinking. The cross has been overshadowed by personal branding. 

Instead of shepherds feeding the flock, many churches have become stages where personalities perform.

People leave feeling inspired—but not transformed.

Yet when I read Scripture, I find something fascinating.

Jesus wasn’t afraid of mud.

In fact, one of His miracles involved making mud with His own saliva.

He spit on the ground, mixed the dirt into mud, placed it on a blind man’s eyes, and told him to go wash. When the man obeyed, he came back seeing.

Think about that for a moment.

The Creator of the universe could have simply spoken a word.

Instead, He chose mud.

He chose spit.

Something ordinary.

Something people might even consider offensive.

Because God has always been in the business of using unlikely things to display His glory.

The Gospel itself is offensive to human pride.

It tells us we cannot save ourselves.

It tells us we must die to ourselves.

It tells us that forgiveness came through a bloody cross.

None of that fits neatly into today’s culture of comfort and self-esteem.

But it is still the power of God.

The American Church doesn’t need better marketing.

It doesn’t need cooler stages.

It doesn’t need more polished personalities.

It needs pastors who love truth more than applause.

It needs believers who desire holiness more than popularity.

It needs people who are willing to get their hands dirty serving others instead of polishing their own image.

Maybe we’ve become so obsessed with looking clean that we’ve forgotten the One who still isn’t afraid to kneel in the dirt.

Jesus still meets broken people.

He still restores blind eyes.

He still heals wounded hearts.

He still calls sinners to Himself.

The method may not always look impressive.

The process may not always be comfortable.

But His power hasn’t changed.

Perhaps it’s time for the Church to stop trying to impress the culture and start looking more like Christ again.

Maybe what we need isn’t another life coach with a Bible verse.

Maybe we need shepherds who will faithfully preach the whole counsel of God-even when it’s unpopular. 

Maybe we need believers who aren’t afraid of a little mud if it means someone finally sees Jesus. 

Because sometimes, God still chooses mud.

Sometimes, He still uses spit. 

And He has always used ordinary people surrendered to an extraordinary Savior. 

Lord, may Your Church once again become known—not for its polish, but for its faithfulness. Give us courage to speak truth with love, humility to serve without recognition, and hearts that care more about Your glory than our comfort. Amen. ~OC

Grit, Faith and Determination

Today’s a new day!

Some battles don’t come with warning.

They arrive quietly—or sometimes all at once—and suddenly you find yourself standing in the middle of something you never expected to face.

I’m in one of those seasons right now.

But here’s what I’ve learned: a tough battle doesn’t have to steal your hope.

I’m choosing to stay positive. I’m choosing to keep moving forward. And I’m choosing to lean—not because I am weak, but because I understand that none of us were created to walk through the hardest seasons of life alone.

I am incredibly grateful for my family and friends who continue to stand beside me.

Your prayers, messages, encouragement, phone calls, hugs, and simple reminders that you’re there mean more than I can put into words. Sometimes you may think you’re just sending a quick message or saying a quick prayer, but to someone in the middle of a difficult battle, those little things can become lifelines.

Your support means the world to me.

There will be difficult days. There will be moments when the road ahead looks intimidating. There may even be times when I have to take things one day—or one moment—at a time.

But I refuse to let the battle define me.

I want my response to adversity to be defined by grit, faith, courage, and determination.

Grit says, Keep going.

Faith says, God is still here.

Determination says, I’m not finished.

And love reminds me that I’m not walking this road alone.

I don’t know exactly what tomorrow will bring. But I know I don’t have to face tomorrow by myself.

So, to my family, my friends, my prayer warriors, and everyone who has taken the time to encourage me:

Thank you.

Thank you for believing in me when the battle gets heavy.

Thank you for standing beside me when I’m tired.

Thank you for praying when I don’t have the words.

Thank you for reminding me that there is still something worth fighting for.

And most importantly, thank you for walking beside me.

This is not about pretending everything is easy.

It’s about facing what is difficult without surrendering our hope.

It’s about acknowledging the battle while refusing to give the battle the final word.

So here we go.

One day at a time.

One prayer at a time.

One step at a time.

With grit.
With faith.
With determination.
And with a whole lot of love surrounding us.

The battle may be tough.

But I’m tougher than the battle.

And with God, family, friends, and an army of people standing beside me, we’re going to face this together.

Let’s tackle it.

Not with fear.

Not with surrender.

But with grit, faith, and determination.

And whatever tomorrow brings, we’ll meet it together. ~OC

Face Fear. Find Freedom.

Fear may whisper,
“Turn around, don’t go.”
But faith says,
“Take the step—
there’s freedom where you go.”

Face the darkness,
walk through the pain,
trust that the storm
won’t always remain.

For courage begins
when fear loses control—
sometimes you must face fear
to set free your soul. ~OC

The Heart of Community

There is a difference between attending a church and belonging to a faith community.

You can sit in the same room every Sunday, sing the same songs, hear the same message, and still feel completely alone.

And that should challenge us.

Because church was never supposed to be simply a place where we gather. It was meant to be a people—a family, a community, a body of believers who know one another, care for one another, pray for one another, carry one another, and walk through life together.

Connection builds the kind of community people don’t want to leave.

When a faith community becomes known for genuine connection, people notice.

They notice when someone remembers their name.

They notice when someone asks how they are doing—and actually waits for the answer.

They notice when someone reaches out after they’ve missed a few Sundays.

They notice when someone sits beside the person who is standing alone.

They notice when their struggles aren’t met with judgment but with compassion.

They notice when people don’t just say, “We’re praying for you,” but actually pray.

They notice when the church celebrates their victories, walks with them through their battles, and reminds them that they don’t have to face life alone.

That’s connection.

And connection is where belonging begins.

Belonging Doesn’t Happen by Accident

A culture of belonging doesn’t happen because we put a welcome banner in the lobby.

It doesn’t happen because we have a great worship service.

It doesn’t happen because we offer programs, events, coffee, or perfectly designed church experiences.

Those things can be wonderful, but belonging is built through people taking the time and making the effort to connect with people.

It requires intentionality.

It means noticing the person who keeps coming but hasn’t found their people yet.

It means inviting someone to lunch.

It means making the phone call.

It means sending the text.

It means remembering the prayer request from three weeks ago.

It means asking, “How can I walk with you through this?”

Sometimes the most powerful ministry we can offer isn’t a sermon.

Sometimes it’s simply showing up.

People Don’t Need Perfect Churches

People aren’t looking for perfect churches because perfect churches don’t exist.

They’re looking for authentic people.

They’re looking for a place where they can take off the mask.

A place where they don’t have to pretend everything is okay when everything isn’t okay.

A place where their questions are welcome.

A place where their pain isn’t minimized.

A place where their story matters.

A place where they are seen.

A place where they are known.

A place where they are loved.

That’s what genuine connection can create.

And when people experience that kind of community, something beautiful happens.

They don’t simply attend.

They belong.

Jesus Modeled Connection

Look at the ministry of Jesus.

He didn’t simply preach to crowds and then disappear.

He ate with people.

He listened.

He touched the untouchable.

He stopped for the overlooked.

He walked with people.

He wept with people.

He celebrated with people.

He entered people’s stories.

Jesus didn’t treat people like numbers in a crowd.

He treated them like people created in the image of God.

Maybe that’s part of the challenge for the modern Church.

We can become so focused on building bigger crowds that we forget to build deeper relationships.

But Jesus wasn’t simply interested in how many people were in the room.

He cared about the person standing right in front of Him.

So should we.

Connection Takes Effort

Here’s the uncomfortable truth:

Connection takes time.

It takes effort.

It takes vulnerability.

It takes putting down our phones and looking someone in the eyes.

It takes stepping outside our comfortable circles.

It means talking to someone we don’t know.

It means welcoming the newcomer instead of spending the entire morning talking to the people we’ve known for years.

It means asking better questions.

It means listening more than we speak.

And sometimes it means noticing the person everyone else overlooks.

Because the easiest person to connect with is usually the person who already has friends.

The real test of a church community is what happens with the person who walks through the doors alone.

Do we notice them?

Do we invite them in?

Do we learn their name?

Do we make room for them at the table?

Do we help them find community?

Or do we leave them standing on the outside looking in?

Let’s Build Something Different

Imagine a faith community where nobody has to wonder whether they matter.

Imagine a church where people know that someone will notice when they’re missing.

Imagine a community where tears are welcome, questions are safe, victories are celebrated, and burdens are shared.

Imagine a place where people don’t simply come to church—they find family.

That’s the kind of community I want to help build.

Not a perfect community.

A real one.

A community where grace is greater than judgment.

Where relationship is more important than reputation.

Where people are valued more than programs.

Where serving isn’t about recognition.

Where prayer isn’t a slogan.

Where love isn’t just something we preach from a stage.

It’s something we live.

Because connection changes everything.

And maybe the person sitting next to you this Sunday isn’t looking for another church service.

Maybe they’re looking for a place to belong.

Maybe they’re carrying a burden nobody knows about.

Maybe they’re wondering if anyone sees them.

Maybe they’re one conversation away from realizing they aren’t alone.

So let’s start there.

Take the time.

Make the effort.

Start the conversation.

Learn someone’s name.

Hear their story.

Invite them to the table.

Pray with them.

Walk with them.

Love them.

Because when a faith community becomes a place where people are genuinely known, genuinely loved, and genuinely connected, something powerful happens.

People don’t just come.

People belong.

And when people truly belong, you’ve built the kind of community people don’t want to leave. ~OC

Dear Caregivers: Please Don’t Forget Yourself

Today’s a new day!

Dear Caregivers,

Please take care of yourself.

I know that may sound simple, but for caregivers, it can be one of the hardest things in the world to actually do.

You spend your days worrying about someone else.

Their medications.
Their appointments.
Their meals.
Their pain.
Their bad days.
Their good days.
Their needs.
Their fears.

You become the organizer, advocate, chauffeur, encourager, nurse, protector, prayer warrior, and sometimes the person holding everything together when it feels like everything is falling apart.

And somewhere along the way, you can disappear from your own list of priorities.

Please don’t.

My wonderful bride has been living the life of a caregiver for more than twenty years.

Twenty years.

She has walked beside me through illnesses, doctors, hospitals, treatments, setbacks, victories, fear, uncertainty, and more twists and turns than either of us ever imagined when we said, “I do.”

She is a rockstar.

But even rockstars need rest.

Even the strongest people need someone to lean on.

Even caregivers need caregivers.

And that’s why I want to say something directly to every person reading this who spends their life taking care of someone else:

You are not selfish for taking care of yourself.

You are not selfish for going to your own doctor’s appointments.

You are not selfish for meeting a friend for coffee.

You are not selfish for laughing.

You are not selfish for taking a walk.

You are not selfish for taking an afternoon or weekend off.

You are not selfish for asking someone else to step in.

You are not selfish for saying, “I need help.”

In fact, asking for help may be one of the most responsible things you can do.

Because you cannot pour from an empty cup forever.

I have heard the statistic that 64% of caregivers die before the person they are caring for. Whether that exact number applies universally or not, the warning behind it is very real: caregiving can take an enormous physical, emotional, and spiritual toll.

Did you catch that?

The person taking care of everyone else can become so exhausted that they forget they are a person who needs care, too.

So, dear caregiver, let me remind you of something:

Your life matters, too.

Your health matters.

Your mental and emotional well-being matters.

Your friendships matter.

Your dreams matter.

Your laughter matters.

Your time with God matters.

Your rest matters.

You matter.

Please don’t wait until your body forces you to stop.

Go to the doctor.

Take the medication you need.

Get some sleep.

Eat something.

Drink some water.

Call a friend.

Go outside.

Take a breath.

Pray.

Cry if you need to.

Laugh when you can.

And when someone says, “How can I help?”—please don’t automatically answer, “I’m fine.”

Maybe give them something they can actually do.

“Can you sit with them for a couple of hours?”

“Can you bring us dinner?”

“Can you drive us to this appointment?”

“Can you just come over and let me talk?”

Let people love you.

Because caregiving was never meant to be a one-person job.

My bride has taught me so much about love through the way she has cared for me for more than two decades. But I don’t want her—or any caregiver—to lose themselves while caring for someone they love.

You don’t have to destroy yourself to prove that you love someone.

Read that again.

You don’t have to destroy yourself to prove that you love someone.

Taking care of yourself doesn’t mean you love the person you’re caring for any less.

It means you’re giving yourself a better chance to keep walking beside them.

So, to every husband, wife, son, daughter, parent, sibling, friend, or stranger who has quietly become somebody’s caregiver:

I see you.

I appreciate you.

I honor you.

And I’m asking you—please take care of yourself.

Ask for help.

Accept help.

Make the doctor’s appointment.

Call your friends.

Take the day off when you can.

Sit somewhere quiet.

Take a deep breath.

And remember that you are more than the role you have been given.

You are a human being, not just a caregiver.

You deserve to live, too.

Because the goal isn’t simply to survive caregiving.

The goal is for both of you to keep living.

So, dear caregivers…

Please don’t forget yourself while you’re taking care of someone else.

You are needed.

You are loved.

You are valuable.

And yes—

you matter, too. ~OC

Living A Life Of Significance:Day 3

Day 3: Salt and Light

Scripture Reading: Matthew 5:13-16  

Reflection: Significance is influence. Salt preserves. Light exposes. Both are ordinary things with extraordinary impact in the right place.  

Application: Where is one room, one workplace, one family conversation where you can bring light today?  

Prayer: Jesus, help me flavor my world with grace.

The Morning That Changed My Prayer Life Forever

This is the second of two deeply personal experiences that I have shared publicly for the very first time.

The first was my experience during surgery in 2019, when I believe God allowed me to see Heaven before telling me, “Not yet. I still have more work for you to do.”

This is the story of another experience that forever changed how I pray, how I love people, and how urgently I believe Christians should share the Good News of Jesus Christ.

After the miracle God performed in my life in November of 2019, something incredible happened.

For a season, God allowed me to run again.

Considering everything my body had endured through years of illness, surgeries, and suffering, every mile felt like a gift from God. Every run became an opportunity not only to exercise but also to pray.

On a Thursday morning in October of 2020, I headed out for what I thought would be another ordinary run.

As I ran past Jupiter Medical Center in Jupiter, Florida, I did what I had done countless times before. I prayed for the doctors, nurses, staff, patients, and families. I asked Jesus to bring healing, peace, wisdom, comfort, and hope to everyone inside those walls.

A little farther into my run, I decided to stop at a men’s Bible study in Jupiter. We spent time praying together, encouraging one another, and opening God’s Word. It was a wonderful morning of fellowship.

After the Bible study, I decided to continue my run before heading home.

That’s when everything changed.

As I ran down Central Boulevard near the park affectionately known as “Duck Park,” life seemed completely normal. The sky was bright blue. The weather was cool. People were jogging, riding bicycles, walking, and driving by.

Then, in what felt like only moments, everything around me changed.

The blue skies disappeared.

Darkness surrounded me.

The temperature became unbearably hot.

What I experienced next is something that has stayed with me every single day since.

I believe God allowed me, for only a few brief moments, to experience something I can only describe as a glimpse of hell.

Around me I heard people crying out in desperation.

They were screaming.

Over and over I heard words that pierced my heart:

“Why didn’t anyone tell us about Jesus?”

“Why did so many Christians give up on us?”

Those cries echoed with an anguish that is impossible to put into words.

What made the experience even more overwhelming was that I could still see people running, riding bicycles, and driving as they had been only moments before, yet in this experience they too were crying out with the very same questions.

The entire experience lasted only a matter of seconds.

Then it was over.

I have often joked that I could have qualified for the Olympic team by how fast I ran home that morning.

But behind the humor is a truth that has never left me.

That morning changed my life forever.

Whether I am speaking with one person or a thousand people, I can no longer look at anyone the same way.

Every person I meet has an eternal soul.

Every conversation matters.

Every act of kindness matters.

Every prayer matters.

Every opportunity to share the love of Jesus matters.

I don’t believe Christians are called to preach with condemnation or fear. We are called to preach with tears in our eyes, compassion in our hearts, and the love of Christ leading every word we speak.

Jesus didn’t come to condemn the world.

He came to save it.

That experience gave me an urgency that has never faded.

I still wake up every day asking God, “Who needs to hear about You today? Who needs encouragement today? Who needs hope today? Who needs someone to remind them that they are loved by God?”

I believe every follower of Jesus should live with that same sense of eternal purpose—not out of panic, but out of love.

People all around us are searching for hope.

Many have never truly experienced the grace of Jesus.

Many have been hurt by people who claimed to represent Him.

Many have concluded that no one cares enough to tell them the truth wrapped in love.

May that never be said of us.

This is the first time I have publicly shared both of these experiences—my encounter in Heaven during surgery in 2019 and this life-changing experience during a morning run in October of 2020.

Both have been incredibly difficult to share, each for different reasons.

I know there will be questions.

There may even be skepticism.

I understand that.

My goal has never been to convince anyone based on my experiences.

My prayer is simply that my testimony points people to Jesus Christ.

If these stories encourage even one person to seek Him more deeply, to pray more faithfully, to love more compassionately, or to boldly share the Gospel with someone who needs hope, then sharing them will have been worth it.

As Scripture reminds us:

“Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation.” (Mark 16:15)

May we never grow comfortable with keeping the greatest news the world has ever known to ourselves.

There are people waiting to hear about the Savior who changed our lives.

Let’s tell them. ~OC

Deep Roots

Today’s a new day!

One of the realities of gardening is that weeds are inevitable. No matter how beautiful the garden, weeds will eventually try to find their way in. The same is true in our spiritual lives. Negative thoughts, temptations, distractions, discouragement, offense, fear, and doubt often try to take root in our hearts.

The question is not whether weeds will appear. The question is whether our roots are deep enough to deal with them.

When a plant has shallow roots, it is vulnerable. A strong wind can uproot it. A dry season can destroy it. It lacks the stability and strength needed to endure life’s challenges.

But when roots grow deep, everything changes.

Deep roots provide stability during storms. Deep roots allow the plant to draw nourishment even during drought. Deep roots create strength that is not easily shaken.

The same principle applies to followers of Jesus.

When our roots are planted deeply in God’s Word, prayer, worship, and daily fellowship with Christ, we develop spiritual strength. We become anchored in truth rather than tossed around by every opinion, circumstance, or challenge that comes our way.

A believer with deep roots can quickly identify weeds when they appear.

When bitterness tries to grow, they pull it out.

When fear tries to take hold, they replace it with faith.

When offense shows up, they choose forgiveness.

When lies from the enemy appear, they stand on the truth of God’s Word.

Why? Because healthy roots make it easier to remove unhealthy growth.

The deeper your roots go into Christ, the less room there is for weeds to take over your life.

Jesus taught about this in the parable of the sower. Some seeds sprang up quickly but had no deep roots, so when trouble came, they withered away. God desires for us to be firmly rooted in Him so that we can withstand every season of life.

Perhaps today you are noticing some weeds trying to grow in your heart. Don’t be discouraged. Instead, focus on deepening your roots. Spend time with Jesus. Read His Word. Worship Him. Pray consistently. Stay connected to other believers who encourage your faith.

As your roots grow deeper, you’ll discover that pulling out the weeds becomes much easier because the truth of God has taken such a strong hold in your life.

The goal isn’t simply removing weeds. The goal is becoming so deeply rooted in Christ that His life, His peace, His joy, and His strength flourish in every area of your life.

“So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in Him, rooted and built up in Him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness.” — Colossians 2:6-7

Stay rooted. Stay grounded. Stay connected to Jesus. The deeper the roots, the stronger the life. ~OC

Seasons

Today’s a new day! Yes, I am still on a break from sharing daily post, but sometimes God puts something on your heart that you feel compelled to share. This is one of those moments. The following is a collection of thoughts God has shared with me the last few days. I pray it speaks to your spirit.

There are seasons in life when the presence of God feels especially near. Seasons where you can see His hand moving in ways that are undeniable. Moments where prayers seem deeper, peace feels stronger, and hope begins to rise again. I believe I am walking through one of those seasons right now.

In this season, I can feel and sense God doing a mighty work in my body, bringing healing, strength, and renewal. I can see Him moving within my marriage, drawing us closer together and reminding us that His love is the foundation we stand upon. I also see Him working in the lives of our family and friends, opening doors, restoring hearts, and surrounding people with His grace and mercy.

Sometimes God moves quietly, like a whisper in the night. Other times, His presence feels overwhelming, powerful, and impossible to ignore. This season feels like one of those moments where Heaven is touching Earth in a fresh way. It is a reminder that God never stops working, even when we cannot always see it immediately.

Because of this, I want to encourage everyone reading this to lean into God a little closer. Spend time with Him in prayer. Open His Word. Worship even in the middle of uncertainty. Trust that where He has you planted right now is not an accident. There is purpose in this season, even if you do not fully understand it yet.

God knows exactly where you are. He knows the battles you are facing, the prayers you are praying, and the dreams hidden within your heart. And just as He is moving in my life, I believe He desires to move in yours as well.

So embrace the season you are in. Stay rooted in faith. Keep your eyes fixed on Jesus. The same God who brought healing, miracles, and revival throughout Scripture is still moving today. And I truly believe we are living in a time where His presence is drawing people closer to Him once again.~ OC

The Empty Road

Today’s a new day! Over the last few months, I have written a collection of short stories entitled “Miles That Still Matter.” I thought I would share one with you today. ~OC

Every morning at 5:00 a.m., Ed still woke up before sunrise.

For twenty years, he had laced up his running shoes before the world stirred awake. Marathons had shaped his life. He knew the quiet roads, the rhythm of breath, the ache in his legs at mile twenty-two, and the victory of crossing finish lines.

But now the shoes sat untouched beside the door.

A neurological condition had changed everything.

“Maybe tomorrow,” he whispered every morning, though he knew tomorrow would not come.

One chilly Florida morning, Ed sat on his porch with a cup of coffee, listening to a Carolina Wren sing from the oak tree nearby. His neighbor, Marcus, walked by slowly with his dog.

“Haven’t seen you running lately,” Marcus said carefully.

Ed forced a smile. “Doctors say those days are over.”

Marcus nodded awkwardly. “That’s rough.”

For a long moment, neither man spoke.

Then Ed quietly said, “You know what marathon running taught me?”

“What’s that?”

“That life isn’t won in the fast miles. It’s won in the hard ones.”

Marcus looked at him curiously.

Ed continued, “Anybody can run downhill with fresh legs. But when your body screams to quit and you keep going anyway—that’s where character shows up.”

Marcus stared at the ground.

“My wife left last month,” he admitted. “I honestly don’t know how to keep going.”

Ed leaned back in his chair.

“In a marathon,” he said, “you never focus on all twenty-six miles. You just look for the next step. Jesus works that way too. He doesn’t always give us the whole roadmap. Sometimes He just says, ‘Walk with Me to the next mile marker.’”

Marcus wiped his eyes.

That morning, Ed realized something.

He could no longer run races.

But he could still help weary people finish theirs.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑