Tag: challenges

Between The Storms

LIFE IS GOING TO BE FULL OF STORMS

A happy life isn’t a life without storms.
A happy life is learning to recognize when you’re between them.

Storms are part of life.

Some storms arrive without warning. Others build slowly on the horizon until the sky turns dark and the wind starts blowing.

There are storms of sickness.

Storms of grief.

Storms in our marriages.

Storms with our children.

Storms with our finances.

Storms in our friendships.

Storms at work.

Storms in our communities.

And sometimes, storms happen inside our own hearts.

We spend so much of our lives wishing the storms away that we sometimes forget something incredibly important:

Not every day is a storm.

There will be moments when the clouds break.

There will be mornings when you wake up and realize, I’m okay.

There will be conversations that make you laugh again.

There will be people who remind you that you are loved.

There will be sunsets that stop you in your tracks.

There will be unexpected blessings.

There will be answered prayers.

There will be moments of peace that you didn’t create and couldn’t have manufactured.

Those are the moments between the storms.

And we need to learn how to recognize them.

Because if we’re constantly waiting for the next storm, we can miss the sunshine we’re standing in today.

Maybe happiness isn’t about having a perfect life.

Maybe happiness is learning to appreciate the imperfect life we’ve been given.

It’s knowing that the storm will come again—but it isn’t here right now.

So breathe.

Laugh.

Love somebody.

Call a friend.

Hug your spouse.

Play with your kids.

Sit on the porch.

Watch the sunrise.

Take the picture.

Eat the good meal.

Thank God for another day.

Celebrate the calm.

And when the next storm eventually arrives, remember this:

You’ve survived storms before.

You have made it through days you thought would break you.

You have walked through valleys you never thought you’d leave.

You have cried tears you never thought would stop.

And somehow…

You’re still here.

For those of us who follow Jesus, we have an even deeper hope.

Jesus never promised us a life without storms.

He promised to be with us in the storms.

The disciples learned that on a boat in the middle of a raging sea.

The storm was real.

The fear was real.

The waves were real.

But so was Jesus.

And sometimes the greatest miracle isn’t that God immediately calms the storm.

Sometimes the miracle is discovering that He is with us while the storm is raging.

So don’t spend your entire life fearing the next storm.

Look around.

Maybe you’re standing in a season of calm right now.

Maybe this is your moment between storms.

Don’t rush through it.

Enjoy it.

Be grateful for it.

Give God thanks for it.

Because life will have storms.

That’s inevitable.

But life will also have sunshine.

There will be laughter after tears.

Peace after chaos.

Healing after pain.

Hope after disappointment.

And joy after sorrow.

A happy life isn’t a life without storms.

A happy life is learning to recognize the moments between them—and having the wisdom to be grateful for every single one.

So today, if the sun is shining…

STOP.

Take a breath.

Look around.

Thank God.

You may just be standing in one of the beautiful moments you’ve been praying for.~OC

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Stop Scrolling, America: You Look Like You Need A Hug

STOP SCROLLING.

Seriously.

Put down the phone for a minute.

Turn off the cable news.

Step away from the outrage machine.

Take a breath.

Because my country is hurting.

WE, THE PEOPLE, ARE HURTING.

And pretending everything is fine isn’t going to make it better.

We are exhausted.

We are angry.

We are divided.

We are scared.

We are frustrated.

We are watching neighbors turn against neighbors and families turn against families.

We’ve allowed political parties to become identities and political opponents to become enemies.

We’ve allowed algorithms, politicians, pundits, and influencers to convince us that the person on the other side of the aisle is somehow less American than we are.

STOP.

Just stop.

Your neighbor isn’t your enemy because they voted differently.

Your coworker isn’t your enemy because they worship differently.

Your friend isn’t your enemy because they were born somewhere else.

Your family member isn’t your enemy because they see the world differently.

They are human beings.

And they’re hurting too.

Behind every political argument is a person.

A mother worried about her children.

A father wondering how he’s going to pay the bills.

A senior choosing between groceries and medicine.

A young person wondering if there is still a future worth believing in.

A patient fighting for another day.

A grieving family trying to figure out how to keep going.

A lonely person desperately hoping somebody notices them.

These are our people.

Not their people.

OUR people.

We don’t have to agree with one another to care about one another.

We don’t have to share the same politics to share the same humanity.

We don’t have to worship the same way, speak the same language, look the same, come from the same country, or vote for the same candidates to understand one simple truth:

We are all human beings.

And America is supposed to be bigger than our divisions.

Bigger than our political parties.

Bigger than our outrage.

Bigger than our fear.

Bigger than our hatred.

America was never supposed to be us versus them.

America is supposed to be WE, THE PEOPLE.

So here’s the challenge:

STOP looking for reasons to hate each other.

Start looking for reasons to help.

STOP asking, “What party are you?”

Start asking, “How are you doing?”

STOP asking, “Who did you vote for?”

Start asking, “How can I help?”

STOP trying to win every argument.

Start trying to heal a few wounds.

STOP dehumanizing people.

Start seeing people.

And when you see someone hurting, don’t ask whether they deserve compassion.

Give it.

When someone falls, help them up.

When someone is hungry, feed them.

When someone is lonely, sit with them.

When someone is afraid, remind them they aren’t alone.

When someone is different from you, get to know them.

And when someone disagrees with you…

LISTEN.

You might discover that you have far more in common than you ever imagined.

America doesn’t need more people screaming at each other.

America needs people who remember how to be neighbors.

Stand for truth.

Stand for justice.

Stand for compassion.

Stand for freedom.

Stand for the vulnerable.

Stand for the people who have no voice.

And stand for what is right—even when it’s unpopular.

Because the strength of America has never been that we all think alike.

Our strength is that we can be different and still choose to live together.

We can disagree and still love.

We can argue and still respect.

We can come from different places and still call this country home.

We can have different beliefs and still recognize the dignity of another human being.

THAT is strength.

Not cruelty.

Not hatred.

Not humiliation.

Not division.

True strength is having the courage to love people you don’t agree with.

So, America…

HEY, AMERICA.

You look like you need a hug.

And honestly?

So do we.

My country is hurting.

We, the People, are hurting.

But I refuse to believe this is the end of our story.

I still believe in America.

I still believe in our neighbors.

I still believe in ordinary people doing extraordinary things.

I still believe we can put down the weapons of division and pick up the tools of compassion.

I still believe we can look across the aisle and see a fellow American instead of an enemy.

I still believe we can choose humanity.

I still believe we can choose decency.

I still believe we can choose courage.

I still believe we can choose each other.

So here’s what I ask of every American reading this:

Don’t become part of the problem.

Be the person who refuses to hate on command.

Be the person who listens before judging.

Be the person who helps when helping is needed.

Be the person who refuses to let politics erase someone’s humanity.

Be the neighbor who shows up.

Because this country doesn’t belong to one party.

It belongs to all of us.

WE, THE PEOPLE.

Different.

Imperfect.

Hurting.

Hopeful.

Still here.

Still capable of choosing something better.

So, America…

Come here.

Let’s hug it out.

Then let’s roll up our sleeves, look one another in the eye, and remember what those three words were always supposed to mean:

WE, THE PEOPLE.

Not us versus them.

Us.

All of us.

And if we’re going to heal this country, it starts right there.

With us. ~OC

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Twenty Reasons to Get Out of Bed Every Day

Sometimes getting out of bed can be tough.

Can I get an amen?

As I have walked this crazy, beautiful health journey, I have learned a few lessons. I have learned that some mornings begin with pain. Some begin with exhaustion. Some begin with questions we don’t have answers for. And some mornings, simply putting your feet on the floor feels like an accomplishment.

But I’ve also learned something else:

As long as God gives us another day, there is still a reason to get up.

So, from someone who has learned to keep fighting, keep believing, and keep overcoming, here are 20 reasons to get out of bed every day:

1. Because you woke up.

Every new morning is a gift. Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow isn’t promised. But today is here.

2. Because God isn’t finished with you.

If you’re still here, your story isn’t over. There is still purpose in your life.

3. Because someone needs you.

Your spouse, your children, your family, your friends, your church, your neighbor—or someone you haven’t even met yet.

4. Because there is still someone to love.

Love isn’t just something we receive. It’s something we give away.

5. Because there is still someone who needs encouragement.

Sometimes your simple “I’m praying for you” can change someone’s entire day.

6. Because your testimony matters.

Someone may be watching how you walk through your storm. Your scars may become someone else’s hope.

7. Because pain doesn’t get the final word.

Pain may be part of your story, but it doesn’t have to define your story.

8. Because there are still miracles to witness.

Sometimes miracles look like healing. Sometimes they look like strength to make it through another day.

9. Because you can still make a difference.

You don’t have to change the entire world. Sometimes changing one person’s world is enough.

10. Because tomorrow’s blessing may require today’s obedience.

You may not understand what God is doing today. Keep walking anyway.

11. Because there are still memories to make.

There are sunsets you haven’t seen, conversations you haven’t had, places you haven’t visited and moments you haven’t experienced.

12. Because laughter is still waiting for you.

Life can be incredibly hard, but there is still room for joy.

13. Because somebody needs to hear your story.

Never underestimate what God can do with a life that refuses to give up.

14. Because you are more than your circumstances.

Your diagnosis isn’t your identity. Your failures aren’t your identity. Your worst day isn’t your identity.

15. Because there is still work to do.

Maybe it’s big. Maybe it’s small. Maybe it’s simply loving the person standing beside you. It all matters.

16. Because hope is still alive.

Even when you can’t see the way forward, you can take the next step.

17. Because God can bring beauty from brokenness.

Some of the most beautiful things in life can grow from the hardest seasons.

18. Because someone else needs to see you keep going.

Your perseverance may give someone else permission to believe they can keep going too.

19. Because you haven’t seen the end of your story.

Don’t close the book while God is still writing the chapters.

20. Because Jesus is still with you.

Through the good days. Through the bad days. Through the pain, fear, uncertainty and exhaustion.

You are never walking alone.

So tomorrow morning, when getting out of bed feels impossible, start small.

Put your feet on the floor.

Take a breath.

Say a prayer.

And whisper:

“Lord, thank You for another day. I don’t know what today will bring, but I’m still here. I’m still fighting. I’m still believing. I’m still overcoming. Let’s see what You can do with this day.”

Then get up.

Not because every day will be easy.

But because every day is still worth living.

Keep fighting.
Keep believing.
Keep loving.
Keep overcoming.

And most importantly—

Keep Jesus at the center of it all.

Today is a new day.

Get up. God isn’t finished with you yet. ~OC

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Remembering President Jimmy Carter: A Life of Character and Service

Today, October 1, 2026, would have been President Jimmy Carter’s 102nd birthday.

Today, we pause to remember a man who represented something that seems increasingly rare in American public life: character, integrity, humility, humanity, and a genuine commitment to serving others.

James Earl Carter Jr. was born on October 1, 1924, in Plains, Georgia. He would go on to become the 39th President of the United States, serving from 1977 to 1981. But his life was about far more than the four years he spent in the White House.

He believed that public service was supposed to be about people—not power.

He believed leadership carried responsibility.

He believed faith should be lived, not simply spoken.

And he believed that every human being possessed dignity and deserved to be treated with compassion.

Those values shaped his life long before the presidency and continued long after he left Washington.

A President From Plains

There was something remarkable about Jimmy Carter’s connection to Plains, Georgia.

He came from a small community, became governor of Georgia, became President of the United States, and then returned home.

He never seemed to believe that occupying the highest office in the land made him more important than the people around him.

After leaving the White House, President Carter and Rosalynn Carter founded The Carter Center in 1982, dedicating themselves to advancing peace, democracy, human rights, health, and humanitarian work around the world.

His post-presidential life became one of the most extraordinary chapters of his story.

He worked for peace.

He fought disease.

He monitored elections.

He advocated for human rights.

He helped build homes through Habitat for Humanity.

He taught Sunday school.

And he continued serving others when there was absolutely no political office left to win.

That matters.

Character When Nobody Is Watching

Perhaps one of the greatest lessons from Jimmy Carter’s life is that character is who you are when the cameras aren’t rolling.

Presidents come and go.

Political parties change.

Campaign slogans disappear.

Headlines fade.

But character remains.

President Carter demonstrated that leadership does not require constant outrage, personal attacks, or a hunger for attention.

It can look like humility.

It can look like listening.

It can look like keeping your word.

It can look like serving people who can do absolutely nothing for you in return.

It can look like choosing peace when division would be easier.

It can look like standing up for human rights even when doing so is politically difficult.

The Carter Center describes his life’s work in three simple words:

Wage peace. Fight disease. Build hope.

What a legacy.

What Washington Could Learn

And perhaps that is why remembering Jimmy Carter feels especially meaningful today.

Our politics can often seem consumed by division, anger, tribalism, personal ambition, and the endless pursuit of power.

Washington can sometimes feel very far removed from the people who are struggling to pay their bills, raise their families, care for aging parents, find affordable housing, afford healthcare, or simply make it through another difficult day.

That is why character still matters.

Integrity still matters.

Humility still matters.

Compassion still matters.

Leadership still matters.

And public service should still mean service to the public.

Jimmy Carter wasn’t perfect. No president is.

His presidency had successes, challenges, and controversies, just like every administration in American history.

But remembering him today isn’t about pretending history was perfect.

It is about recognizing the qualities he brought to public service and the example he continued to demonstrate for decades afterward.

In 2002, Carter received the Nobel Peace Prize for his decades of work pursuing peaceful solutions to conflicts, advancing democracy and human rights, and promoting economic and social development.

His life ultimately became bigger than a presidency.

A Legacy Bigger Than Politics

President Jimmy Carter died on December 29, 2024, at the age of 100, at his home in Plains, Georgia.

But his story didn’t end there.

His example continues.

His work continues through The Carter Center.

His words continue to challenge us.

His life continues to remind us that leadership doesn’t have to be about self-promotion.

It can be about service.

It can be about sacrifice.

It can be about faith.

It can be about peace.

It can be about human dignity.

And it can be about leaving the world a little better than you found it.

Today, I think about Plains, Georgia.

I think about the little hometown that produced a man who would become the 39th President of the United States.

I think about President Carter and his beloved Rosalynn.

I think about Maranatha Baptist Church.

I think about the Carter Center.

And I think about a simple question for all of us:

What kind of legacy are we leaving behind?

Because someday the political arguments will be forgotten.

The campaign signs will be gone.

The television commercials will be forgotten.

The social-media battles will disappear.

But how we treated people?

That will matter.

How we served?

That will matter.

Whether we showed compassion?

That will matter.

Whether we stood for peace, justice, dignity, and humanity?

That will matter.

Today, we celebrate the life and legacy of President Jimmy Carter—the 39th President of the United States, a son of Plains, Georgia, a husband, a public servant, a humanitarian, a man of faith, and a lifelong advocate for peace and human dignity.

Happy 102nd birthday, Mr. President.

Thank you for reminding America that leadership can still be about character over ego, service over power, humility over fame, and humanity over division.

May we never stop learning from your example. Happy Birthday President Carter. ~OC

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The World Is A Subway Car

THE WORLD IS A SUBWAY CAR

Think about the world for a moment as if it were one giant subway car.

People are packed inside.

Some are sitting quietly, staring out the window. Some are talking loudly. Some are laughing. Some are crying where nobody can see. Some are exhausted from the journey. Some are angry. Some are afraid.

Some know exactly where they’re going.

Others aren’t even sure what station comes next.

And somehow, we’re all riding together.

That’s what makes the subway such a powerful picture of our world.

We don’t get to choose everyone who gets on the train.

We don’t get to choose everyone’s politics, religion, race, nationality, economic situation, personality, or past.

We don’t get to know everyone’s story just by looking at them.

The person sitting across from you might be carrying a broken heart.

The person standing beside you might be fighting a battle nobody knows about.

The person who looks angry might have spent the night crying.

The person who seems completely lost might simply need someone to remind them that they aren’t alone.

And here’s the thing:

We’re all passengers.

None of us owns the subway car.

None of us gets to declare that only people who look like us, think like us, worship like us, or vote like us belong inside.

We’re sharing the ride.

And every person on that train has a story.

DIFFERENT STATIONS

Life takes us through different stations.

Birth.

Childhood.

Friendship.

Love.

Loss.

Success.

Failure.

Illness.

Grief.

Change.

Hope.

And eventually, our earthly journey comes to an end.

Some people ride with us for decades.

Others get off after only a few stops.

Some people enter our lives unexpectedly and change everything.

Others leave behind memories that stay with us long after they’ve disappeared through the doors.

That’s life.

We are constantly meeting people at different stations.

And perhaps the question isn’t simply:

“Where are you going?”

Perhaps the more important question is:

“How are you treating the people riding beside you?”

THE PERSON NEXT TO YOU MATTERS

Jesus never seemed overly concerned with building walls between people.

He crossed boundaries.

He talked with people others avoided.

He touched people others considered untouchable.

He stopped for people others walked past.

He noticed people.

That’s something the world desperately needs right now.

We need to notice people again.

Not labels.

Not stereotypes.

Not political categories.

Not social-media arguments.

People.

The human being sitting beside us.

The mother trying to hold her family together.

The veteran carrying memories from a battlefield.

The immigrant hoping for a safer tomorrow.

The elderly person who hasn’t had a meaningful conversation in days.

The teenager wondering if anyone sees them.

The person battling addiction.

The person grieving a spouse.

The person living with chronic illness.

The person who smiles every day while privately wondering how much longer they can keep going.

You may never know what someone is carrying.

So be kind.

SOMETIMES THE TRAIN GETS DARK

Every subway has tunnels.

There are moments when the windows become black and all you can see is your own reflection.

Life has tunnels too.

Cancer.

Parkinson’s.

Dementia.

Grief.

Divorce.

Financial hardship.

Loneliness.

Addiction.

Fear.

Depression.

Loss.

There are seasons when it feels like the train has entered a tunnel and God has disappeared from view.

But here’s something important about a tunnel:

The darkness doesn’t mean the train has stopped moving.

You may not see the destination.

You may not understand the route.

You may not know why you’re going through this particular tunnel.

But the train can still be moving forward.

Sometimes faith is simply holding on until the lights come back on.

DON’T MISS YOUR STOP

One day, every one of us will reach our final station.

And when that happens, I don’t think we’ll be thinking about how many arguments we won on social media.

I don’t think we’ll care who had the better political meme.

I don’t think we’ll wish we’d spent more time proving ourselves right.

We’ll remember people.

We’ll remember conversations.

We’ll remember moments when somebody showed up.

We’ll remember the hand that reached for ours when we were hurting.

We’ll remember the person who prayed with us.

We’ll remember the person who stayed when everyone else left.

So while you’re riding this train called life, don’t miss the opportunities to love people.

Don’t be so busy staring at your phone that you miss the person sitting beside you.

Don’t be so consumed with being right that you forget to be kind.

Don’t become so comfortable in your own little corner of the subway car that you forget there are hurting people everywhere around you.

WE’RE ALL GOING SOMEWHERE

The world is a subway car.

We’re all passengers.

We’re all carrying something.

We’re all headed toward another station.

And maybe our assignment isn’t to control the entire train.

Maybe it’s simply to make the ride a little better for the people God has placed around us.

Offer encouragement.

Give grace.

Listen.

Forgive.

Help somebody carry their bags.

Make room.

Speak hope.

Stand beside the hurting.

Love your neighbor.

And when someone gets on the train who looks different from you, remember:

They’re a passenger too.

They have a story.

They have a destination.

They have hopes.

They have fears.

They have value.

And they were created by the same God who created you.

So let’s stop treating one another like enemies riding in opposing subway cars.

We’re on the same train.

We’re sharing the same journey.

And every station we pass is another opportunity to love somebody.

The doors are closing.

The train is moving.

We don’t know how many stops we have left.

So let’s make every stop count.

Let’s love while we’re here.

Let’s serve while we’re here.

Let’s forgive while we’re here.

Let’s encourage while we’re here.

Let’s point people toward Jesus while we’re here.

And when our journey is finally finished, may we be able to look back and say:

“I didn’t just ride the train.”

“I helped somebody make it to the next station.”

Keep loving.
Keep serving.
Keep encouraging.
Keep overcoming.

And whatever station you’re at today—remember, you’re not riding alone. ~OC

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Grace For The Imperfect

Today’s a new day!

We live in a world that seems obsessed with perfection.

Perfect families.
Perfect marriages.
Perfect bodies.
Perfect careers.
Perfect churches.
Perfect social media feeds.

But here’s the problem:

None of us are perfect.

Not even close.

We all have scars people can’t see. We all carry stories we don’t always tell. We have made mistakes we wish we could undo. We’ve said things we wish we could take back. We’ve disappointed people we love—and we’ve been disappointed by people we trusted.

Sometimes we are our own harshest critics.

And sometimes, unfortunately, Christians can be the harshest critics of one another.

We forget that the person sitting next to us in church may be fighting a battle we know absolutely nothing about.

The person who seems distant may be hurting.

The person who keeps making mistakes may be struggling to get back on their feet.

The person who doesn’t have their life together may simply need someone to remind them that they are loved.

And the person who doesn’t look, think, believe, or live exactly like we do is still a person created in the image of God.

Maybe it’s time we gave each other a little more grace.

Grace doesn’t mean pretending that wrong is right.

Grace doesn’t mean ignoring sin, refusing accountability, or avoiding difficult conversations.

Grace means remembering that people are more than their worst moment.

It means correcting without condemning.

It means speaking truth without destroying the person who needs to hear it.

It means leaving room for repentance, growth, healing, and second chances.

Jesus didn’t wait for people to become perfect before He loved them.

He met people in their mess.

He sat with sinners.

He touched the untouchable.

He forgave the broken.

He welcomed the rejected.

He restored people who had failed.

And ultimately, He went to the cross for imperfect people like you and me.

That’s grace.

I think sometimes we forget just how much grace we ourselves have received.

We want grace when we’re struggling, but judgment when someone else is struggling.

We want understanding when we make a mistake, but consequences when someone else makes one.

We want people to remember our intentions while we judge someone else by their actions.

We want our past forgiven while holding someone else’s past against them.

But the Gospel calls us to something different.

“Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” — Ephesians 4:32

What if we became people who were known for grace?

What if our homes became places where people could be honest about their struggles without immediately being judged?

What if our churches became places where broken people felt safe enough to say, “I’m not okay”?

What if instead of asking, “What’s wrong with you?” we sometimes asked, “What happened to you, and how can I walk with you through it?”

What if we stopped expecting everyone to have it all together?

Because here’s the truth:

We’re all works in progress.

God isn’t finished with me.

God isn’t finished with you.

And God certainly isn’t finished with the person you may be tempted to write off.

So give grace.

Give grace to the person who is learning.

Give grace to the person who is grieving.

Give grace to the person who is struggling.

Give grace to the person who failed.

Give grace to the person who is trying again.

Give grace to yourself.

And when accountability is necessary, let it be wrapped in love.

When correction is necessary, let it be offered with humility.

When someone falls, don’t be so quick to celebrate their failure.

Reach down and help them stand.

Because someday, you may be the one who needs someone else’s hand.

None of us are perfect.

We’re just people trying to navigate this crazy, beautiful journey called life while desperately needing the grace of God.

So let’s stop demanding perfection from imperfect people.

Let’s love a little deeper.

Listen a little longer.

Judge a little slower.

Forgive a little quicker.

And extend the same grace to others that we desperately need from God ourselves.

Grace doesn’t say, “You are perfect.”

Grace says,

“You are loved while you’re still becoming.”

And maybe that’s exactly what the world needs a little more of right now.

Grace for the imperfect.

Because we’re all imperfect.

And we’re all in need of grace. ~OC

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9

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A Prayer For Healing

Dear Jesus,

Be near to the person walking through this cancer battle today. Give them strength when they feel weak, peace when they are afraid, and hope when the road feels too long.

We declare in faith that cancer does not have the final word—Jesus does. We speak life, healing, strength, and restoration over their body. We ask You to touch every cell, strengthen every organ, calm every fear, and bring healing where healing is needed.

Guide every doctor, nurse, treatment, and decision. Give wisdom to those providing care and courage to the one receiving it.

Lord, let Your healing power move through this body. Let every treatment accomplish what it is intended to do, and let there be strength where there has been weakness and renewed hope where there has been exhaustion.

We believe You are still the Healer. We believe miracles are still possible. We believe this battle is not the end of the story.

Surround them with Your presence and remind them that they never walk alone.

In the mighty, powerful and healing name of Jesus, Amen.

~OC

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I’m Curious

In a Facebook post, one of my friends poised the following questions.

The questions peaked my curiosity.

Can we act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God while serving under the banner of the American government?

Can we claim to be a nation founded on freedom while ignoring the freedom, dignity, and humanity of our neighbors?

Can we call ourselves a Christian nation while forgetting that Jesus never told us to love only the people who look like us, vote like us, worship like us, or were born where we were born?

Is our country poised to encourage us to love our neighbors as ourselves?

I’m curious.

Because Micah 6:8 doesn’t say:

Act justly when it’s politically convenient.

Love mercy when the person deserves it.

Walk humbly when everyone agrees with you.

It simply says:

“Do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God.”

And Jesus didn’t give us a list of exceptions when He said:

“Love your neighbor as yourself.”

Our allegiance to Jesus must always be greater than our allegiance to a political party, a government, an ideology, or even our own comfort.

America has laws.

America has leaders.

America has political parties.

But Jesus has disciples.

And disciples are called to something higher.

We are called to feed the hungry.

Welcome the stranger.

Defend the vulnerable.

Care for the forgotten.

Stand with the oppressed.

Speak truth when truth costs us something.

Love our enemies.

And treat every human being as someone created in the image of God.

So maybe the question isn’t simply:

“Is America doing enough?”

Maybe the harder question is:

“Am I?”

Am I loving my neighbor?

Am I showing mercy?

Am I pursuing justice?

Am I walking humbly?

Am I willing to speak when silence would be easier?

Am I willing to stand with people Jesus would have stood beside—even when standing there costs me friends, followers, comfort, or approval?

Because before I am an American…

I am a follower of Jesus.

And when the values of my government, my political party, or my culture collide with the teachings of Christ, I don’t get to rewrite Jesus.

I have to follow Him.

That’s not anti-American.

That’s discipleship.

Jesus first.
Neighbor second.
Politics somewhere far behind.

So yes…

I’m curious.

What would America look like if Christians actually took Jesus seriously?

Not just on Sunday.

Not just in our churches.

Not just when it benefits us.

But everywhere.

Maybe that’s where the real change begins. ~OC

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Dear Christian, Please Stand Up

Dear Christian, please stand up.

I think it’s time for Good Trouble and to start flipping some tables.

For too long we’ve confused being nice with being faithful. We’ve stayed seated. Stayed quiet. Stayed polite while the temple filled with money changers.

Jesus wasn’t crucified for being nice. He was crucified for flipping tables.

He walked into the house of God, saw exploitation, saw corruption, saw people using the name of God for profit and power, and He didn’t write a polite letter. He made a whip. He turned over tables. He drove it out. John 2:15.

John Lewis called it Good Trouble. Necessary trouble. The kind of trouble that says love is not passive. Love protects. Love confronts. Love refuses to look away.

So I’m asking you, brother and sister in Christ:

Stand up when it’s easier to sit down.
Speak up when it’s safer to stay silent.
Flip the table of injustice in your part of the world.
Flip the table of corruption in your church, your neighborhood and politics.
Flip the table of lies in our political system. Regardless of party affiliation.

We were never called to fit in with this world. We were called to shake it.

My Friend, it’s time. ~OC

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Human-The Soundtrack Of My ICU Battle

Sometimes God speaks through a sermon.

Sometimes through Scripture.

Sometimes through another person.

And sometimes… He speaks through a piano.

While I was lying in an ICU room at a local hospital, fighting for my life, Tommee Profitt’s new project, Human, was released.

The timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

As many of you know, things did not look good.

This was the second time this year that I had been hospitalized and found myself fighting for my life. There were moments when the road ahead looked incredibly uncertain.

But while I was lying there in that ICU room, I put Human on repeat.

Over and over.

And over again.

Human is, in many ways, a simple project—beautiful instrumental pieces centered around the piano. There are no complicated words. No elaborate message being preached through lyrics.

Just music.

But somehow, those piano notes said everything I needed to hear.

That album didn’t just become background music in my hospital room.

It ministered to me.

It brought peace into a room filled with machines, monitors, alarms, medications, uncertainty and fear.

And something else happened that I didn’t expect.

It touched the people who walked through that ICU door.

Doctors.

Nurses.

Hospital staff.

Family.

Friends.

People would come into my room while Human was playing, and for a few moments, the atmosphere seemed to change.

The music became part of the story.

Part of the battle.

Part of the healing.

For me, Human will forever be connected to those ICU days.

Not because the album saved me.

God did.

Not because music performed a miracle.

God did.

Not because I somehow fought my way back on my own.

God carried me.

Today, I’m home.

I’m recovering.

And my new medical team is amazed at how far I’ve come.

After everything that happened, I don’t take that for granted.

All praise, honor and glory belong to God.

He never left my side.

Not in the ICU.

Not in the darkest moments.

Not when things looked impossible.

Not when I was fighting for my life.

And not now that I’m home.

He was there through every breath, every prayer, every tear, every medical treatment and every uncertain moment.

And I’m incredibly thankful.

I’m also thankful for artists like Tommee Profitt, whose music became an unexpected companion during one of the hardest battles of my life.

Especially Human.

Sometimes we don’t realize how powerful a gift we’ve been given until it finds us at exactly the moment we need it most.

For me, Human found me in an ICU room.

And I will never hear those piano notes the same way again.

They will always remind me of a battle I survived…

A God who never abandoned me…

And another chapter in this crazy, beautiful journey called life.

I’m home.

I’m still standing.

I’m still fighting.

I’m still overcoming.

And most importantly…

God is still writing my story.

May you have a beautiful, peaceful and blessed day.

And wherever you are today, whatever you’re facing, remember this:

You are not alone.

Keep fighting.

Keep believing.

Keep overcoming.

And never forget who is carrying you through the battle.

Jesus.

~OC

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