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

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

Dear Caregivers: Please Don’t Forget Yourself

Today’s a new day!

Dear Caregivers,

Please take care of yourself.

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

You spend your days worrying about someone else.

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

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

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

Please don’t.

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

Twenty years.

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

She is a rockstar.

But even rockstars need rest.

Even the strongest people need someone to lean on.

Even caregivers need caregivers.

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

You are not selfish for taking care of yourself.

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

You are not selfish for meeting a friend for coffee.

You are not selfish for laughing.

You are not selfish for taking a walk.

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

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

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

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

Because you cannot pour from an empty cup forever.

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

Did you catch that?

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

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

Your life matters, too.

Your health matters.

Your mental and emotional well-being matters.

Your friendships matter.

Your dreams matter.

Your laughter matters.

Your time with God matters.

Your rest matters.

You matter.

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

Go to the doctor.

Take the medication you need.

Get some sleep.

Eat something.

Drink some water.

Call a friend.

Go outside.

Take a breath.

Pray.

Cry if you need to.

Laugh when you can.

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

Maybe give them something they can actually do.

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

“Can you bring us dinner?”

“Can you drive us to this appointment?”

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

Let people love you.

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

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

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

Read that again.

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

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

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

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

I see you.

I appreciate you.

I honor you.

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

Ask for help.

Accept help.

Make the doctor’s appointment.

Call your friends.

Take the day off when you can.

Sit somewhere quiet.

Take a deep breath.

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

You are a human being, not just a caregiver.

You deserve to live, too.

Because the goal isn’t simply to survive caregiving.

The goal is for both of you to keep living.

So, dear caregivers…

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

You are needed.

You are loved.

You are valuable.

And yes—

you matter, too. ~OC

Living

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

Don’t Mistake Religious Language for the Spirit of Christ

One of the greatest dangers facing the Church today isn’t always open hostility toward Jesus. Sometimes it’s something much more subtle.

It sounds Christian.
It quotes Scripture.
It uses the language of faith.
It speaks about God.

Yet it doesn’t reflect the heart of Christ.

The Apostle Paul warned the church in Corinth about this very danger:

“You happily put up with whatever anyone tells you, even if they preach a different Jesus than the one we preach, or a different kind of Spirit than the one you received…”
—2 Corinthians 11:4

Think about that for a moment.

Paul wasn’t warning them about abandoning religion. He was warning them about embracing a version of Jesus that looked convincing on the surface but was fundamentally different from the real Christ.

That warning is just as relevant today.

We live in an age where countless voices claim to speak for God. Social media, podcasts, conferences, television, politics, and even some churches are filled with people confidently declaring, “God told me…” or “This is what Christianity looks like.”

But confidence is not the same as truth.

Religious branding is not the same as the Kingdom of God.

Political influence is not the same as spiritual authority.

The question we must continually ask is not, “Does this sound Christian?” but rather, “Does this look like Jesus?”

Jesus consistently demonstrated humility over pride.

He chose compassion over cruelty.

He welcomed the outsider.

He defended the vulnerable.

He confronted hypocrisy.

He loved His enemies.

He forgave those who crucified Him.

He carried a cross instead of seeking a throne built on earthly power.

Any message that consistently produces fear, hatred, arrogance, division, or contempt should cause us to pause and examine whether it truly reflects the Spirit of Christ.

John gives us another important instruction:

“Dear friends, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God…”
—1 John 4:1

Discernment is not cynicism.

Discernment is love for the truth.

Testing every spirit doesn’t mean becoming suspicious of everyone. It means refusing to surrender our minds and hearts to personalities, movements, or ideologies without comparing them to Jesus Himself.

Every preacher should be tested.

Every ministry should be tested.

Every movement should be tested.

Every political ideology should be tested.

Every viral message should be tested.

And perhaps most importantly…

Our own hearts should be tested.

The standard isn’t whether someone makes us feel inspired.

The standard isn’t whether they align with our political opinions.

The standard isn’t whether they have a massive following.

The standard is Jesus.

Does their life reflect the fruit of the Spirit?

Do their teachings align with the whole counsel of Scripture?

Do they point people toward humility, repentance, grace, justice, mercy, and sacrificial love?

Or do they point people toward fear, outrage, pride, power, and division?

Satan has always been more effective through deception than through obvious rebellion. Paul later writes that Satan “masquerades as an angel of light” (2 Corinthians 11:14). Counterfeits are dangerous precisely because they resemble the real thing.

That is why we must remain rooted in Christ rather than captivated by personalities.

Read the Gospels often.

Study the whole counsel of Scripture.

Pray for wisdom.

Walk with the Holy Spirit.

Stay humble enough to be corrected.

The Church doesn’t need more celebrity voices.

The Church needs more followers of Jesus who know His voice well enough to recognize when someone is preaching a different one.

Don’t mistake religious language for the Spirit of Christ.

Test every spirit.

Test every message.

Test every leader.

Not by slogans.

Not by political power.

Not by religious branding.

But by the character, teachings, and love of Jesus Christ.

Because in the end, the safest place to stand is not behind a movement—it is behind the Savior. ~OC

More Questions Than Answers

When I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease in 2007, my world changed in an instant.

Like so many others, I immediately began asking the questions we all ask after receiving life-changing news. What caused this? Could I have prevented it?

One thing stood out immediately: there was no family history of Parkinson’s disease.

No parents.
No grandparents.
No siblings.
No known relatives.

That didn’t answer the question—it only deepened the mystery.

Looking Beyond Genetics

For many years, Parkinson’s was often thought of as a disease that was primarily genetic. We now know that while genetics can play a role for some people, the majority of Parkinson’s cases are considered sporadic, meaning they occur without a clear inherited cause.

Researchers increasingly believe that Parkinson’s develops through a combination of genetics and environmental exposures. For many of us, the environment may play a much larger role than we once realized.

That realization raises important questions.

What have we been exposed to over a lifetime?

Pesticides.
Industrial chemicals.
Solvents.
Air pollution.
Contaminated water.
Heavy metals.

Scientists continue to study how long-term exposure to these and other environmental factors may increase the risk of developing Parkinson’s disease. While research is ongoing and not every case has the same cause, the growing body of evidence suggests that our surroundings matter.

We Need to Pay Attention

This isn’t about creating fear.

It’s about creating awareness.

If environmental factors contribute to Parkinson’s disease, then we should be investing far more into understanding those risks, reducing harmful exposures where possible, and protecting future generations.

We cannot change yesterday.

But perhaps we can change tomorrow.

That means funding more research.
Supporting environmental health initiatives.
Helping identify communities at higher risk.
And continuing to ask difficult questions until we find better answers.

My Journey

Nearly twenty years after my diagnosis, I’ve lived through far more than I ever imagined.

Parkinson’s became only one chapter in a much larger health journey that has also included Myasthenia Gravis and many other unexpected challenges.

I’ve experienced seasons of strength and seasons of weakness.

There have been victories, setbacks, miracles, disappointments, and countless lessons along the way.

If I’ve learned anything, it’s this:

A diagnosis may change your life, but it does not define your life.

I am still here.

I still have purpose.

I still believe God is writing my story.

A Call for Hope and Action

As someone living with Parkinson’s, I hope that one day we won’t simply ask how to manage this disease—we’ll know how to prevent many cases before they ever begin.

That will require courageous research.
Honest conversations.
Environmental responsibility.
And a commitment to putting people ahead of convenience or profit.

My prayer is that future generations will benefit from the questions my generation has had to ask.

Until then, I’ll continue sharing my story.

Because every story matters.

Every patient matters.

Every family matters.

And every step we take toward understanding Parkinson’s disease brings us one step closer to hope.

“We may not know exactly why every person develops Parkinson’s disease, but we owe it to those living with it—and to those who come after us—to keep searching for answers. Hope grows wherever truth is pursued.” ~OC

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