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

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

The Sermon That Changed Everything

I remember a pastor preaching a sermon that had nothing to do with Washington.

No politicians were mentioned.

No political party was attacked.

No election was discussed.

Instead, the pastor opened the Bible and said:

“Love your neighbor.”

Then he talked about the widow.

The orphan.

The prisoner.

The hungry.

The lonely.

The forgotten.

He reminded us that following Jesus wasn’t about winning arguments.

It was about becoming more like Christ.

People walked out of that church talking about what Jesus had said.

Not what a politician had tweeted.

Not what Congress had done.

Not what political battle was coming next.

Just Jesus.

I miss those sermons.

I miss a Christianity that didn’t need a political enemy to feel spiritually alive. ~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

Lack of Leadership

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

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

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

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

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

That should be the priority.

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

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

Not partisan questions.

Not political questions.

Leadership questions.

Are our sailors adequately trained?

Do they have the resources they need?

Are maintenance and readiness being taken seriously?

Are commanders being held accountable?

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

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

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

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

They need leadership.

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

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

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

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

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

Let’s invest in readiness.

Let’s invest in maintenance.

Let’s invest in training.

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

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

And let’s remember something incredibly important:

The military does not belong to a political party.

It belongs to the American people.

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

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

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

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

Our service members deserve nothing less. ~OC

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

The Flag Beside the Cross

I remember when I walked into church and the first thing I noticed wasn’t a political slogan.

It wasn’t a candidate’s name.

It wasn’t a red hat, a blue hat, or a message about which political party was saving America.

It was the cross.

The cross was the center of the room.

We sang about Jesus.

We prayed for the broken.

We collected food for families who couldn’t afford groceries.

We visited people in hospitals.

We welcomed the stranger.

We prayed for our enemies.

We didn’t have to agree politically to worship together.

We just had to agree that Jesus was Lord.

I remember those days.

I miss those days.

And sometimes I wonder if Jesus misses them too.

Because the Church was never supposed to be built around a political party.

It was supposed to be built around a Savior. ~OC

Chronic Illness and Jesus

Today’s a new day!

I am often ask if Jesus can still use people with chronic long term health issues. 

Absolutely.

The world often measures our value by what we can accomplish, how much we produce, or how strong we appear. But Jesus has never measured people that way.

Throughout Scripture, God chose imperfect, weary, and broken people to accomplish extraordinary things. His power has always been greater than our limitations.

Maybe your body doesn’t cooperate the way it once did. Maybe chronic illness has changed your plans, stolen your energy, or forced you to slow down. That doesn’t mean your purpose has disappeared. It simply means your ministry may look different than it once did.

Sometimes the greatest testimony isn’t found in what we accomplish—it’s found in how we trust Jesus when the miracle hasn’t come yet.

Your prayers still matter.

Your encouragement still matters.

Your faith still matters.

Your story still matters.

People are watching to see what hope looks like in the middle of suffering. Every time you choose joy over despair, faith over fear, and worship over worry, you point others toward Christ.

Jesus doesn’t wait until we’re healthy to use us. 

He meets us right where we are and often shines brightest through our weakness.

If you’ve ever wondered whether your chronic health issues have sidelined you from God’s kingdom, remember this: your illness may limit your strength, but it cannot limit God’s power.

You are not disqualified.

You are still called.
You are still loved.
You are still being used.


And your greatest ministry may be unfolding right in the middle of your struggle. ~OC

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

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