Bridges

Today’s a new day.

Your struggles are not liabilities. They’re bridges.

The things you’ve walked through—the pain, the setbacks, the tears, the moments when you wondered if you had enough strength to keep going—may feel like weaknesses. But sometimes, those very struggles become the places where your story connects with someone else’s.

Your scars remind people that healing is possible.
Your tears remind people that it’s okay to hurt.
Your perseverance reminds people that they can keep going.
Your testimony reminds people that they are not alone.

We often think we have to hide our struggles to be strong. But sometimes, strength is found in being honest enough to say, “I’ve been there too.”

Because somewhere out there, someone is silently bleeding, silently fighting, and silently wondering if anyone understands.

And then they hear your story.

They realize they’re not the only one hurting.
They’re not the only one fighting.
They’re not the only one trying to find their way through the darkness.

Your struggle can become a bridge from someone’s despair to hope.

So don’t be ashamed of the scars you carry. Don’t believe the lie that your difficult seasons make you less valuable.

Your struggles are not liabilities. They’re bridges.

Let God use every scar, every battle, every tear, and every victory to remind someone else:

“You are not alone. Keep fighting. Keep believing. Keep overcoming.” ~OC

The Church Should Never Be Full of Cliques

Today’s a new day!

The Church was never meant to be a place where people walk through the doors and immediately wonder, “Where do I fit in?”

Unfortunately, too many churches have become filled with cliques—small groups of people who only talk to certain people, sit with certain people, socialize with certain people, and sometimes make newcomers feel like outsiders simply because they aren’t part of the “in crowd.”

That should break our hearts.

The Church should be one of the most welcoming places on earth.

Jesus didn’t build His ministry around exclusive circles. He reached out to the forgotten, the hurting, the rejected, the sinners, the poor, the sick, and the people society had pushed to the margins. He didn’t ask people to prove they belonged before He loved them.

He simply loved them.

So why do we sometimes make people work so hard to find a place within the Church?

Cliques don’t attract people. Love does.

Cliques create walls. Jesus tore down walls.

Cliques make people feel invisible. Jesus made people feel seen.

Cliques say, “You don’t belong with us.”

Jesus says, “Come to Me.”

Think about the person who walks into church for the first time. Maybe they’re struggling with addiction. Maybe their marriage is falling apart. Maybe they’ve been hurt by the Church before. Maybe they’re grieving. Maybe they’re lonely. Maybe they’re questioning their faith. Maybe they simply don’t know anyone.

What do they experience when they walk through our doors?

Do they see people who are willing to stop, introduce themselves, sit beside them, listen to their story and make room for them?

Or do they see groups gathered together who barely acknowledge anyone outside their circle?

We need to understand something: people are watching.

Sometimes our greatest testimony isn’t what happens on the platform. It’s what happens in the hallway.

It’s whether we notice the person standing alone.

It’s whether we invite someone to sit with us.

It’s whether we learn someone’s name.

It’s whether we ask, “How are you really doing?” and actually listen to the answer.

It’s whether we make room at our table.

The Church doesn’t need more exclusive circles. The Church needs wider tables.

And this isn’t about saying that friendships are wrong. Of course we will naturally develop deeper friendships with certain people. That’s part of being human.

The problem begins when our friendships become barriers.

There is a difference between having close friends and creating a closed circle.

There is a difference between community and exclusivity.

There is a difference between fellowship and favoritism.

Jesus called us to love one another, not just the people who look like us, think like us, worship like us or already belong to our social circle.

The Church should be a family where there is room for everybody.

The single person.

The married couple.

The young person.

The senior adult.

The lifelong Christian.

The person who is just beginning to believe.

The person who has walked away and is trying to find their way home.

The person who has been hurt by religion.

The person who doesn’t have it all together.

Because here’s the truth:

None of us has it all together.

We are all people in need of God’s grace.

So let’s stop building little kingdoms inside God’s house.

Let’s stop worrying about who belongs to our group.

Let’s stop protecting our circles and start expanding our tables.

Let’s become the kind of Church where a stranger doesn’t remain a stranger.

Where the lonely find friendship.

Where the broken find compassion.

Where the hurting find hope.

Where the questioning are welcomed.

Where the forgotten are remembered.

Where the outsider becomes family.

And where the first thing people experience isn’t judgment, suspicion or exclusion—but the love of Jesus.

If we want people to come to church, we have to give them something worth coming to.

Not perfect people.

Not impressive programs.

Not political tribes.

Not cliques.

Jesus.

And Jesus is love.

Maybe it’s time for all of us to look around our churches and ask ourselves one uncomfortable but important question:

“Am I helping create a Church that welcomes people, or am I helping create a circle that keeps people out?”

Because the Church doesn’t belong to us.

It belongs to Jesus.

And His table has always been bigger than our clique.

Let’s make room.

Let’s love people well.

Let’s tear down the walls.

Let’s open the doors.

Let’s become the Church Jesus called us to be. ~OC

Live It Up

Today’s a new day!

As I continue to walk out this crazy, beautiful, unpredictable health journey, I’ve come to a decision:

I’ve decided to live it up.

Not someday.

Not when everything gets better.

Not when my body cooperates, the doctors have all the answers, or life finally becomes easier.

Now.

Because if this journey has taught me anything, it’s that tomorrow is never guaranteed—and waiting for the perfect circumstances to start living is one of the greatest ways to miss the life happening right in front of us.

I’ve spent enough time dealing with battles, setbacks, disappointments, appointments, treatments, uncertainty, and days when simply getting through the day felt like an accomplishment.

But I refuse to let the hard parts steal all the beautiful parts.

Yes, I have limitations.

Yes, there are things I can no longer do.

Yes, some days are harder than others.

But there is still so much I can do.

There are people I can love.

Memories I can make.

Stories I can tell.

Music I can create.

Laughter I can share.

Sunsets I can stop and appreciate.

Adventures I can still take.

Prayers I can still pray.

And a whole lot of living left to do.

So I’m changing the question.

Instead of asking, “What can’t I do anymore?”

I’m asking:

“What can I do today that makes this life worth celebrating?”

That changes everything.

Living it up doesn’t mean ignoring reality.

It doesn’t mean pretending the struggle doesn’t exist.

It means refusing to allow the struggle to become the only thing I see.

It means finding joy wherever I can find it.

It means celebrating the small victories.

It means laughing loudly.

Loving deeply.

Forgiving freely.

Making memories.

Taking pictures.

Hugging the people who matter.

Telling people I love them while I have the opportunity.

And squeezing every drop of meaning, purpose, joy, and gratitude out of this crazy beautiful life.

My health journey may have changed my definition of strength.

It certainly changed my definition of success.

These days, success isn’t necessarily about accomplishing something extraordinary.

Sometimes success is simply waking up and saying:

“Today, I’m going to live.”

And then actually doing it.

I don’t know how many chapters are left in my story.

That’s okay.

I don’t need to know.

I just want to make the chapters I have count.

I want to leave footprints of love.

I want to collect memories instead of regrets.

I want to choose experiences over excuses whenever I can.

I want to celebrate the people who have walked beside me.

And I want to look back someday and know that I didn’t spend my life waiting for life to begin.

I lived it.

The whole crazy, beautiful, messy, miraculous thing.

So yes…

I’m still walking through the battle.

But I’m also going to dance when I can.

Laugh when I can.

Travel when I can.

Create when I can.

Love with everything I’ve got.

And celebrate every single blessing I can find.

Because life isn’t waiting for me to become healthy enough, strong enough, or perfect enough to enjoy it.

Life is happening right now.

And I’ve decided I’m going to show up for it.

I’m going to live boldly.

Love fiercely.

Laugh often.

Make memories.

Count blessings.

Chase moments.

And squeeze every beautiful drop out of the time I’ve been given.

I don’t just want to survive this journey.

I want to LIVE it.

So bring on the crazy.

Bring on the beautiful.

Bring on the unexpected.

Bring on the memories we haven’t made yet.

Because as long as I’m here…

I’m going to live it up. ~OC

Through A Different Lens

Today’s a new day!

Another night of very little sleep, so I found myself awake rewatching the amazing documentary Photography No. 24: Ken Griffey Jr. at the Masters.

Ken Griffey Jr. has always been one of my favorite players, especially during his days with my Cincinnati Reds. There is something special about watching someone with that kind of passion, talent, and eye for the moment.

And it got me thinking about something I have always enjoyed: photography.

I love seeing a beautiful photograph. You know the kind I mean—the one that makes you stop scrolling, stare at it for a moment, and maybe even takes your breath away.

I’ve taken some pretty good photos with my iPhone over the years, but lately I’ve been thinking about taking photography a little more seriously.

As I continue dealing with Parkinson’s, Myasthenia Gravis, and now Dementia, I have had to accept that I am no longer able to run. Running was a huge part of my life, and losing that ability has been difficult.

But maybe this is an opportunity to discover something new.

Maybe I can trade running for photography.

And there is another reason this idea excites me.

I am having more trouble with my voice these days. Sometimes finding the words or getting them out the way I want to can be difficult.

But a photograph doesn’t need a voice.

A photograph can speak.

It can tell a story.
It can capture emotion.
It can make someone stop and think.
It can show beauty in places we might otherwise overlook.

And perhaps photography could give me another way to raise awareness about Parkinson’s, Myasthenia Gravis, and Dementia.

I could use the images I capture to tell stories about this journey, while also reminding people that there is still beauty to be found in the middle of difficult circumstances.

I’ll be working with a limited budget, so I would really appreciate any suggestions from photographers or people who know cameras.

What would you recommend for someone getting started? What older or affordable cameras would be good to experiment with?

And if anyone has an older camera, lenses, tripod, camera bag, or other photography equipment sitting around that you aren’t using anymore and would be interested in donating, I would be incredibly grateful.

I don’t need the newest or most expensive equipment.

I just need an opportunity to learn.

I’m honestly excited about the possibilities.

Maybe I can’t run anymore, but I can still chase moments.

Maybe my voice is becoming quieter, but I can still tell stories.

Maybe my body has changed the way I move through this world, but it hasn’t taken away my desire to find beauty in it.

So perhaps this is the beginning of a new adventure.

A new journey.
A new creative outlet.
A new way to speak.
A new way to raise awareness.
A new way to see.

And who knows?

Maybe the next beautiful photograph I take will tell a story that words never could. ~OC ❤️📸

#Photography #ParkinsonsAwareness #MyastheniaGravis #DementiaAwareness #CincinnatiReds #KenGriffeyJr #PhotographyJourney #Overcomer #NeverGiveUp #FindTheBeauty #NewBeginnings

Live Like A Champion

Today’s a new day!

Here is my medical rap sheet.

  • Crippling Arthritis — 2002 (Actually ended up being cancer)
  • Cancer — 2003
  • Parkinson’s Disease — 2007
  • Myasthenia Gravis — 2009
  • Gastroparesis — 2015
  • COVID Long Haulers — 2022
  • Type Two Diabetes 2023 (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. 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

Squeezing Life

Today’s a new day!

Living with multiple health issues has taught me something I never would have learned in a life without suffering:

Our time on this earth is far too precious to waste.

When your body reminds you every day that life is fragile, you begin to see things differently. You stop taking tomorrow for granted. You stop assuming there will always be another opportunity to call someone, hug someone, forgive someone, laugh with someone, or tell the people you love how much they mean to you.

You begin to understand that life isn’t measured only in years.

Sometimes it is measured in moments.

A conversation that makes you smile.

A sunset that takes your breath away.

A prayer whispered through tears.

A song that reminds you God is still near.

A hug from someone you love.

A meal shared around the table.

A memory made on an ordinary day that somehow becomes extraordinary because you were there to experience it.

My health journey has taken many things from me. There are things I once could do that I can no longer do. There are dreams that have had to change. There are days when simply getting through the day feels like an accomplishment.

But I’ve learned not to let what I’ve lost become the only story I tell.

Because God is still writing.

I may not understand every chapter, but I trust the Author.

I may have questions I cannot answer, but I can still have faith.

I may have limitations, but I am not without purpose.

And I may have scars, but those scars can become reminders of God’s faithfulness.

Living with illness has made me want to squeeze every bit of meaning, purpose, joy, gratitude, and hope out of the short time we have on this earth.

Not because I am afraid of dying.

But because I have learned to appreciate living.

I want to love people while they’re still here.

I want to make memories instead of waiting for the “perfect” moment.

I want to encourage somebody who feels forgotten.

I want to remind the broken that they are not useless.

I want to tell the person sitting in the darkness that morning is still coming.

I want my life—even with all its limitations—to point beyond me to Jesus.

Scripture reminds us:

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” — Psalm 90:12

Numbering our days doesn’t mean living in fear of the end.

It means learning to recognize the value of today.

Today is a beautiful gift.

This breath is a gift.

This conversation is a gift.

This person sitting beside you is a gift.

This opportunity to love, serve, forgive, 

encourage, worship, and make a difference is a gift.

We don’t know how many pages remain in our story.

So I’m not waiting until tomorrow to start living.

I’m not waiting until I’m healthy enough.

I’m not waiting until everything makes sense.

I’m not waiting until life becomes easier.

I’m choosing to live the life God has placed in front of me today.

Maybe that’s what being an overcomer really means.

It doesn’t mean we never struggle.

It doesn’t mean we aren’t afraid.

It doesn’t mean we don’t have bad days.

It means we refuse to let our circumstances have the final word.

We keep getting back up.

We keep believing.

We keep loving.

We keep hoping.

We keep looking toward Jesus.

And we keep squeezing every drop of meaning out of this beautiful, difficult, unpredictable gift called life.

Because one day, when this earthly journey is finished, I don’t want to look back and realize I spent all my time waiting for life to begin.

I want to know that I lived.

I loved deeply.

I laughed often.

I made memories.

I recognized and encouraged people.

I served Jesus.

I held onto hope.

And even in the hardest seasons, I trusted God enough to keep moving forward.

Life may be shorter than we think.

So don’t wait to tell someone you love them.

Don’t wait to make the memory.

Don’t wait to forgive.

Don’t wait to reach out.

Don’t wait to live.

Squeeze every drop of meaning, purpose, love, and hope out of this day.

Tomorrow belongs to God.

But today is a gift.

And I intend to unwrap it. ~OC

Living

Today’s a new day!

I know what it’s like to be dying.

I know what it feels like to look at your life and realize that tomorrow is never promised. I know what it’s like to spend time in hospital rooms, sit across from doctors, hear words that change the way you look at the future, and wonder how much time you have left.

I know what it’s like to come face-to-face with my own mortality.

But here’s the thing:

I don’t spend much time thinking about death.

I know it’s there.

I know one day my earthly journey will come to an end. I don’t deny it. I don’t run from it. And because of my faith, I don’t fear what comes after this life.

But I’m not going to spend the days I’ve been given worrying about the day they run out.

I’ve got too much living to do.

I’ve got too many memories to make.

Too many conversations to have.

Too many sunsets to watch.

Too many laughs to share.

Too many hugs to give.

Too many stories still waiting to be told.

Too many people I love who still need to hear, “I love you.”

There are places I still want to see, songs I still want to write, prayers I still want to pray, and moments I still want to experience.

There are memories I haven’t made yet with the people I love.

So I’m going to make them.

I’m going to laugh when I can.

I’m going to cry when I need to.

I’m going to celebrate the ordinary moments because I’ve learned that ordinary moments are often the extraordinary ones we remember most.

I’m going to sit a little longer at the dinner table.

I’m going to call the friend I’ve been meaning to call.

I’m going to tell people what they mean to me while they’re still here—and while I’m still here.

I’m going to stop saving life for someday.

Because someday isn’t guaranteed.

Today is.

Living with serious health challenges has taught me something I could never have learned from a textbook:

Life isn’t measured only by how many years we have.

It’s measured by what we do with the years we’ve been given.

Death may be somewhere down the road, but I’m not going to stand on the road staring at it.

I’m going to keep walking.

I’m going to keep loving.

I’m going to keep believing.

I’m going to keep making memories.

I’m going to keep squeezing every drop of meaning, purpose, joy, and hope out of this crazy, beautiful life.

And when my time finally comes, I don’t want to look back and wish I had lived more.

I want to be able to say:

I lived.

I loved deeply.

I laughed loudly.

I made memories.

I encouraged people.

I shared my faith.

I fought through the hard days.

I celebrated the good ones.

I didn’t waste my life being afraid of losing it.

I chose to live it.

Because death may be inevitable.

But today is a gift.

And I’m not wasting the gift.

I’ve got too much living to do.

Too much loving to do.

Too many memories to make.

Too much purpose left to pursue.

And as long as God gives me breath…

I’m going to fully embrace it. ~OC

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

Chronic Illness Is Not A Sin

Today’s a new day!

As I have walked this crazy beautiful health journey, I have had more than one person ask me what sin do I have in my life, that would cause me to be chronically ill. I have also had more than one person question my faith based on my health issues.

A dangerous lie found its way into the Church and the Christian community: if you’re sick, you must have done something wrong. If you just had enough faith, prayed harder, or lived a holier life, your illness would disappear.

But that isn’t the message of Jesus.

Chronic illness is not a sin.

Living with long-term condition is not evidence that God has abandoned you. It is not proof that your faith is weak. It is not a punishment for hidden sin.

We live in a fallen world where sickness exists because of the brokenness brought about by sin entering creation—not because every illness is directly tied to an individual’s personal sin.

Jesus repeatedly challenged this misconception. When His disciples asked whether a blind man had sinned or whether his parents had sinned, Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned” (John 9:3). Instead of assigning blame, Jesus demonstrated the compassion and power of God.

Think about the Apostle Paul. He pleaded with God three times to remove his “thorn in the flesh,” yet God responded, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” Paul wasn’t being punished. God was revealing His strength through a life that knew weakness.

The Bible is filled with faithful people who endured suffering. Job suffered immensely. Timothy battled recurring health problems. Trophimus was left sick. These men were not outside of God’s will—they were walking faithfully with Him.

The Church must stop treating chronic illness as a spiritual failure.

Instead of asking, “What sin caused this?” perhaps we should ask, “How can we carry this person’s burden?” Instead of offering shame, we should offer prayer. Instead of judgment, we should offer compassion. Instead of simplistic answers, we should simply sit beside someone and remind them they are deeply loved by God.

Some of the strongest believers I know are those who worship through pain every single day. They continue to trust Jesus when healing hasn’t come. They continue to serve even when their bodies won’t cooperate. Their faith isn’t smaller because of their illness—it often shines even brighter because of it.

Healing is real, and we should never stop praying for miracles. God still heals. But whether healing comes today, years from now, or ultimately in eternity, God’s love does not change.

Your diagnosis does not define your value.

Your disability does not diminish your purpose.

Your limitations do not limit God.

If you are living with a chronic illness today, hear this truth: You are not forgotten. You are not being punished. You are not a second-class Christian.

You are still called.

You are still loved.

You are still valuable.

And God can use your life in ways you may never fully understand this side of heaven.

Chronic illness is not a sin.

It may be part of your story, but it is never the end of it. Jesus is. ~OC

I Was Created To Overcome

Today’s a new day!

There are moments in life when the weight of the battle tries to convince us that we were created to surrender. Pain whispers that we’re finished. Disappointment tells us our best days are behind us. Fear insists that the mountain in front of us is too high to climb.

But God says something completely different.

I was created to overcome.

That isn’t positive thinking. It isn’t pretending life is easy. It’s a declaration rooted in the character of God.

Jesus never promised His followers a life free from hardship. He promised His presence in the middle of it. He said, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” Because He overcame, those who belong to Him are called to live as overcomers—not by their own strength, but through His.

Overcoming doesn’t always look the way we expect.

Sometimes overcoming is standing after you’ve fallen.

Sometimes it’s praying when heaven seems silent.

Sometimes it’s choosing forgiveness when bitterness would be easier.

Sometimes it’s worshiping through tears.

Sometimes it’s simply getting out of bed and trusting God for one more day.

The world often measures victory by comfort, success, or popularity. God measures victory by faithfulness.

I’ve learned that the greatest victories are often invisible to everyone else. They’re found in the quiet moments when you decide that your circumstances will not define your faith. They’re found when you refuse to let suffering steal your hope. They’re found when you continue to believe God’s promises even when you can’t yet see their fulfillment.

Every scar tells a story.

Every trial has taught a lesson.

Every valley has revealed another side of God’s faithfulness.

Looking back, I can see that the battles I wanted to avoid became the places where God shaped my character the most. He didn’t waste the pain. He used it to produce perseverance, deepen my faith, and remind me that His grace truly is sufficient.

The enemy wants you to believe that your struggle is your identity.

God says your identity is found in Christ.

The enemy says you’re defeated.

God says you’re more than a conqueror.

The enemy points to your weakness.

God points to His strength made perfect in weakness.

The difference between those two voices determines how we live.

Being an overcomer doesn’t mean we never struggle. It means we never struggle alone.

The same God who walked with Daniel in the lions’ den, stood with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the fiery furnace, strengthened Paul in prison, and raised Jesus from the dead is still at work today. His power has not diminished. His promises have not expired. His love has not failed.

So whatever battle you’re facing today, remember this:

You were not created to be defined by your diagnosis.

You were not created to be imprisoned by your past.

You were not created to live in fear.

You were not created to surrender to despair.

You were created to glorify God by trusting Him through every season.

You were created to overcome.

One day, every battle will end. Every tear will be wiped away. Every broken thing will be made new. Until that day, we keep walking, keep believing, keep praying, and keep pointing others to the One who has already won the ultimate victory.

When life asks who you are, don’t answer with your failures or your fears.

Answer with confidence:

I am a child of God. I belong to Jesus Christ. And by His grace, I was created to overcome. ~OC

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