Tag: Endurance

Healing Prayer

Jesus, Our Amazing Healer

“But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on Him, and by His wounds we are healed.” — Isaiah 53:5

“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” — Hebrews 13:8

Dear Heavenly Father,

Today we come before You with grateful hearts, praising You for Your endless love, Your mercy, and the healing found through Your Son, Jesus Christ. You are Jehovah Rapha, the Lord who heals (Exodus 15:26), and nothing is impossible for You (Luke 1:37).

Jesus, throughout the Gospels You touched the blind and they received their sight. You spoke to the lame and they walked. You cleansed those with leprosy, restored the brokenhearted, raised the dead, and brought hope to those who had none. Your compassion never failed, and Your power was always greater than sickness, fear, or despair.

Lord, we stand on Your promises today. Your Word declares, “Praise the Lord, my soul… who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases” (Psalm 103:2–3). We believe that You still heal hearts, minds, bodies, and souls according to Your perfect will.

Father, bring healing where there is pain. Bring strength where there is weakness. Bring peace where there is anxiety. Restore what illness has stolen. Encourage those who are weary. Comfort those waiting for answers. Let Your Holy Spirit surround every hospital room, every home, every caregiver, and every person crying out to You.

Your Word reminds us in Jeremiah 17:14, “Heal me, Lord, and I will be healed; save me and I will be saved, for You are the one I praise.” We place our trust completely in You.

As James 5:14–15 teaches us, we pray in faith, believing that You hear the prayers of Your people. May every healing become a testimony that points others to Jesus Christ, bringing glory to Your holy name.

Lord, even in seasons when healing comes differently than we expect, help us remember that Your presence never leaves us. Your grace is sufficient, Your strength is made perfect in weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9), and Your plans are always good.

We rejoice because You are our Savior, our Redeemer, our Great Physician, and our Living Hope. Thank You for every miracle You have already done and every miracle still to come.

A Short Closing Prayer

Jesus, thank You for loving us so completely. Fill us with faith, courage, and hope as we trust in Your healing power. Let our lives reflect Your goodness, and may everything we do bring honor and glory to You. We rest in Your unfailing love today and always.

We pray all of these things in the mighty and powerful name of Jesus. Amen.

0

Hope Isles: A New Beginning/Chapter Twenty-One- The Gathering Clouds

For a while, life in Hope Isles settled into something comfortable.

The kind of rhythm that made days blend together in the best possible way.

Morning coffee at Sit Awhile.

Work projects around Hope House.

Evening walks along the harbor.

Conversations that lingered long after sunset.

For the first time in years, James wasn’t looking for the next chapter.

He was simply living the one he was in.

And that felt like a gift.

One Tuesday morning, however, that peace was interrupted.

Not dramatically.

Not at first.

Just a phone call.

James was helping Ethan repair part of the old community dock when Sarah came running toward them.

Her expression immediately caught his attention.

“James.”

He set down his tools.

“What happened?”

Sarah handed him her phone.

“It’s your father.”

The words alone were enough.

James quickly took the phone.

“Dad?”

Daniel’s voice sounded weaker than usual.

Not frightened.

Just tired.

“Hey, son.”

James moved away from the noise of the work site.

“You okay?”

A pause.

Long enough to answer the question.

“Not exactly.”

The knot in James’s stomach tightened.

“What happened?”

Daniel exhaled slowly.

“Rebecca wants me back for more tests.”

James closed his eyes briefly.

The diagnosis.

The timeline.

The reality they had temporarily pushed aside.

It was all still there.

Waiting.

“Okay,” James said quietly.

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

The words settled heavily between them.

Neither man wanted to say what they were thinking.

Eventually Daniel spoke again.

“I didn’t want you hearing it from someone else.”

James nodded.

“Thank you.”

After the call ended, he stood silently near the water.

Sarah approached carefully.

“Bad news?”

James stared out at the harbor.

“Maybe.”

She didn’t press.

She simply stood beside him.

Sometimes presence was more valuable than advice.

Eventually James spoke.

“My father needs more tests.”

Sarah nodded.

Understanding immediately.

The weight returned.

Not all at once.

But enough to be felt.

By evening, word had reached Walter.

And June.

And somehow half the island again.

James never figured out how that happened.

At dinner, June sat across from him.

“You know something?”

James looked up.

“What?”

“We’re praying.”

The statement was simple.

Matter-of-fact.

Certain.

Around the table, heads nodded.

No speeches.

No dramatic promises.

Just commitment.

The kind Hope Isles specialized in.

That night, James sat alone on the porch.

The island was quiet.

Stars filled the sky.

The ocean moved steadily in the darkness.

He thought about his grandfather.

About his father.

About the strange journey that had brought him here.

Healing had happened.

Reconciliation had happened.

But life wasn’t suddenly free of pain.

Faith didn’t erase storms.

It carried people through them.

A voice interrupted his thoughts.

“You look like a man wrestling with God.”

James glanced over.

Walter.

Of course.

Walter sat down beside him.

James smiled faintly.

“Is it that obvious?”

“To me?”

Walter chuckled.

“Very.”

For several moments neither spoke.

Then Walter looked toward the ocean.

“You know what sailors fear most?”

“The storm?”

Walter shook his head.

“No.”

James frowned.

“What then?”

“The illusion of control.”

That answer caught him off guard.

Walter continued.

“A storm reminds you that you were never really in charge.”

The words settled deeply.

James knew they were true.

His father’s illness had reminded him of that.

Life itself had reminded him of that.

Walter smiled gently.

“Faith begins where control ends.”

The old man stood.

Then paused.

“Your grandfather understood that.”

“What about my father?”

Walter looked back.

“He’s learning.”

A small smile crossed his face.

“And so are you.”

The next morning Daniel left the island for his appointment.

James accompanied him to the ferry.

The harbor was quiet.

The sky overcast.

Neither man seemed eager to discuss what might come next.

Instead they talked about simple things.

Fishing boats.

The town festival.

June’s increasingly questionable

baking experiments.

The ferry horn sounded.

Boarding time.

Daniel turned toward his son.

“I’m glad I came.”

James smiled.

“So am I.”

His father nodded.

Then added quietly:

“No matter what happens next.”

Those words lingered.

James didn’t like them.

Because they sounded too much like goodbye.

And Daniel knew it.

So he quickly added:

“This isn’t a goodbye speech.”

James laughed.

“It sounded like one.”

“Well it wasn’t.”

The ferry crew called for final boarding.

Daniel stepped forward.

Then stopped.

One last thought

“James”

“Yeah?”

His father’s eyes had a look of gratitude and peace.

“You stayed.”

James frowned slightly.

“What do you mean?”

Daniel smiled.

“You stayed when it would’ve been easier to leave.”

For a moment neither spoke.

Then Daniel nodded once.

“As it turns out, your grandfather was right.”

“About what?”

A gentle smile appeared.

“Grace really does build something worth staying for.”

With that, he boarded the ferry.

James stood on the dock watching it pull away.

The water churned behind the vessel.

The distance slowly grew.

Yet something inside him remained steady.

Not because he knew what would happen.

Because he finally trusted God with what he didn’t know.

Back at Hope Isles, clouds gathered on the horizon.

Dark.

Heavy.

Slow-moving.

Most people barely noticed them.

But old fishermen did.

And Walter certainly did.

Standing near the lighthouse later that afternoon, he watched the sky carefully.

A troubled expression crossed his face.

Not fear.

Concern.

The kind earned through years of experience.

As the wind began to shift, Walter whispered something to himself.

A prayer.

Or perhaps a memory.

Then he looked toward Hope House.

Toward James.

Toward the island.

And for the first time in many years, he felt a warning deep in his spirit.

Not about Daniel.

Not about illness.

Something else.

Something bigger.

The storm coming toward Hope Isles wasn’t merely weather.

And before it passed, the island would be forced to discover whether its foundation truly rested on hope…

or only on comfort.

To Be Continued…

0

True Difference-Makers

Today’s a new day!

We live in a culture that often celebrates the loudest voices, the biggest platforms, and the wealthiest people. Every day we are bombarded with stories of people chasing power, fame, influence, and money, as though those things alone define a successful life.

But I have discovered something far more inspiring.

There are still people quietly changing the world.

They may or may not trend on social media. They may or may not become household names. They may or may not receive the recognition they deserve. Yet every single day they choose compassion and truth over applause, service over status, and people over personal gain.

I wanted to take a moment to recognize just a few individuals whose lives have encouraged me.

Ricky Aiken- Inner City Innovators:

Ricky Aiken has dedicated his life to investing in young people and underserved communities through Inner City Innovators (https://innercityinnovators.org/). Rather than asking, “How can I become successful?” he asks, “How can I help someone else succeed?”

His work is about creating opportunities where others see obstacles, building hope where many only see despair, and reminding people that every life has value.

That kind of leadership isn’t built on ego.

It’s built on love.

Bryan Stevenson-Equal Justice Initiative:

Bryan Stevenson has spent decades standing beside people whom much of society has forgotten. Through the Equal Justice Initiative (https://eji.org/), he has become a powerful voice for justice, mercy, and human dignity.

One of his most memorable statements is this:

“Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”

Those words reflect a truth Christians 

understand well. Every one of us stands in need of grace. Every one of us has been offered redemption through Christ.

Justice without compassion becomes cold.

Compassion without justice becomes incomplete.

Bryan Stevenson reminds us that both matter.

Benjamin R. Cremer:

Benjamin Cremer (https://benjaminrcremer.substack.com/ ), consistently challenges Christians to look more like Jesus than like the culture around us.

His writing encourages believers to choose humility over arrogance, love over outrage, and faithfulness over political power.

In a time when Christianity is too often associated with division, Benjamin continually points people back to the heart of Jesus.

Not everyone agrees with him.

That isn’t the point.

His willingness to speak with humility, compassion, and conviction is something our world desperately needs.

Suleika Jaouad:

Suleika Jaouad (https://www.suleikajaouad.com/), has shared her deeply personal journey through illness, uncertainty, hope, and resilience with remarkable honesty.

Instead of allowing suffering to define her, she has used it to connect with countless others walking through their own difficult seasons.

She reminds us that healing isn’t always about becoming who we once were.

Sometimes healing is becoming someone entirely new.

As someone who has spent many years navigating serious health challenges, I deeply appreciate voices that speak honestly about pain while refusing to surrender hope.

A Different Kind of Legacy

These four people come from different backgrounds.

They may have different beliefs.

They may serve in different ways.

Yet they share something that seems increasingly rare.

They have chosen to live for something bigger than themselves.

They remind us that changing the world doesn’t always happen from a stage.

Sometimes it happens in a courtroom.

Sometimes it happens in forgotten neighborhoods.

Sometimes it happens through honest conversations.

Sometimes it happens one person at a time.

What Will Be Said About Us?

When our lives are over, people probably won’t remember how many followers we had.

They won’t remember how much money we accumulated.

They won’t remember how famous we became.

They will remember how we treated people.

Did we lift others up?

Did we stand beside those who were hurting?

Did we speak truth with grace?

Did we leave the world more compassionate than we found it?

Jesus never told His followers to seek fame.

He told us to love our neighbors.

He never instructed us to chase power.

He taught us to become servants.

He never measured success by influence.

He measured it by faithfulness.

Perhaps that’s the kind of legacy worth pursuing.

In a world obsessed with being noticed, may we become people who quietly notice others.

Because those are often the people who change the world the most. ~OC

0

A Life of Significance

Today’s a new day!

There is something about a long and difficult health journey that changes the way you see everything.

It has a way of stripping away every illusion of control.

We spend so much of our lives believing we are in charge of tomorrow. We make plans, build careers, chase achievements, accumulate possessions, and convince ourselves that if we just work a little harder or prepare a little better, we can control what comes next.

Then life happens.

A diagnosis.
A phone call.
A hospital room.
A test result.
A moment that changes everything.

My health journey has taught me that life is far more fragile than I ever imagined. It has also shown me how fragile relationships can be. Some people will walk beside you through the darkest valleys, while others quietly disappear when the road becomes difficult. Although that can be painful, it also reveals something beautiful—it helps you recognize those who genuinely love you, not for what you can do, but simply because you are you.

This journey has also taught me that everything we often believe defines us can disappear in an instant.

Our careers.
Our physical strength.
Our independence.
Our financial security.
Our titles.
Our reputation.
Even our carefully crafted plans for the future.

None of those things are guaranteed.

When those layers begin to fall away, one question remains:

Who are we when everything else is gone?

For me, that question continually brings me back to Jesus.

My identity cannot rest in what I accomplish, because accomplishments fade.

It cannot rest in my health, because health can change overnight.

It cannot rest in what others think of me, because opinions come and go.

My identity must rest in the One who never changes.

The older I get, and the longer this journey continues, the more convinced I become that so much of what we spend our lives worrying about simply doesn’t matter in the end.

We argue over temporary things.

We compete for positions that won’t last.

We chase recognition that will eventually be forgotten.

We exhaust ourselves trying to impress people whose approval can never truly satisfy our hearts.

Meanwhile, opportunities to love, encourage, forgive, and serve quietly pass us by.

What if we invested as much energy into loving people as we do protecting our image?

What if we pursued kindness with the same passion we pursue success?

What if we measured our lives less by what we accumulated and more by whose lives were changed because we were here?

I don’t want my life to be remembered for what I owned.

I want it to be remembered for how I loved.

I don’t want to simply leave behind possessions.

I want to leave behind hope.

I want people to know that even in weakness, Jesus remained faithful.

Even through suffering, His grace was sufficient.

Even when life felt uncertain, His promises never failed.

If my health journey has taught me anything, it is this:

Life is a gift.

Time is precious.

People matter.

Jesus is enough.

So today, I want to encourage you.

Don’t spend your life chasing things that will never satisfy your soul.

Don’t allow temporary achievements to become eternal priorities.

Choose a life of significance.

Love deeply.

Forgive quickly.

Serve generously.

Encourage freely.

Walk humbly with God.

Because when this life is over, it won’t matter how impressive our résumé was or how much applause we received.

What will matter is whether we loved God with all our heart and loved our neighbor as ourselves.

Those are the things that last.

Those are the things that echo into eternity. ~OC

0

Relentless Consistency

Today’s a new day!

We live in a world that celebrates the spectacular.

The viral moment.
The overnight success.
The mountaintop experience.

But the Kingdom of God often grows in a much quieter way.

It’s built through relentless consistency.

Faith isn’t measured by how loudly we worship on Sunday morning. It’s measured by whether we still trust Him on Monday afternoon, Wednesday evening, and Friday when life doesn’t make sense.

Anyone can be passionate for a moment.

lAnyone can be inspired after a great sermon,incredible worship service, or a spiritual conference.

But what happens when the music stops?

What happens when the prayers seem unanswered?

What happens when the miracle hasn’t arrived yet?

That’s where relentless consistency begins.

Jesus never called us to be occasional disciples.

He called us to follow Him daily.

Daily taking up our cross.

Daily loving our neighbors.

Daily forgiving those who hurt us.

Daily praying for those who oppose us.

Daily choosing grace over bitterness.

Daily choosing faith over fear.

Daily choosing obedience over convenience.

The Apostle Paul compared the Christian life to a race—not a sprint, but one that requires endurance. The finish line isn’t reached by one incredible burst of speed. It’s reached by putting one faithful foot in front of the other, again and again.

Relentless consistency doesn’t mean perfection.

It means getting back up every time you fall.

It means opening God’s Word even when you don’t feel like it.

It means praying even when the heavens seem silent.

It means serving even when no one notices.

It means loving even when love isn’t returned.

It means worshiping even through tears.

The beautiful thing about consistency is that it builds spiritual roots.

Storms may bend the tree, but deep roots keep it standing.

When our relationship with Christ is built on daily faithfulness instead of emotional highs, we become anchored in His promises rather than our circumstances.

The world may never applaud consistency.

Social media rarely celebrates the person who quietly prays every morning.

Few people notice the believer who faithfully encourages others, serves behind the scenes, gives generously, and walks humbly with God.

But Heaven notices.

Our Father sees every unseen act of obedience.

Every whispered prayer.

Every quiet sacrifice.

Every act of kindness.

Every moment we choose Christ over ourselves.

Galatians reminds us not to grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.

Notice it doesn’t say if we become famous.

It says if we do not give up.

Perhaps revival doesn’t begin with a stadium full of people.

Perhaps it begins with one believer deciding that today they will follow Jesus again.

And tomorrow they will do the same.

And the next day.

And the day after that.

Relentless consistency isn’t glamorous.

It’s holy.

It’s choosing Jesus over and over until the rhythm of faith becomes the rhythm of your life.

So if you’re tired today…

Keep praying.

Keep trusting.

Keep serving.

Keep loving.

Keep forgiving.

Keep showing up.

Keep walking with Jesus.

Because the God who is always faithful is using your relentless consistency to shape you into the image of His Son.

You may not see all that He is doing today.

But one day you’ll look back and realize that every ordinary step of obedience became part of His extraordinary story.

Keep going.

He isn’t finished with you yet. ~OC

0

Loving Our Immigrant Neighbors

Today’s a new day! 

One of the most beautiful truths found throughout Scripture is this: every person is created in the image of God.

That truth doesn’t stop at a border.

It doesn’t depend on the language someone speaks, the color of their passport, or the country they once called home.

It is a truth that reminds us that every person has immeasurable value because they are loved by their Creator.

Today, my heart is especially drawn toward the immigrant community.

Behind every journey is a story.

Some came seeking opportunity. Others came to reunite with family. Some fled violence, persecution, or desperate circumstances. Many have sacrificed everything they knew in the hope of building a safer, better future for those they love.

While every person’s story is different, one thing remains the same: they deserve to be treated with dignity, kindness, and respect.

As followers of Jesus, our first response should never be fear or indifference. Our first response should be love.

Throughout His earthly ministry, Jesus consistently noticed the people others overlooked. He welcomed those on the margins, showed compassion to those in need, and reminded us that loving our neighbor is not optional—it is central to following Him.

Loving our immigrant neighbors does not require us to agree on every political question or every policy debate. Faithful Christians can hold different views about immigration laws and border security while still agreeing that every human being deserves compassion and should be treated with dignity.

The Gospel calls us to something higher than winning arguments.

It calls us to love.

That love may look like volunteering with a local ministry, helping a family learn English, providing meals, supporting legal aid ministries, mentoring children, offering friendship to someone who feels alone, or simply taking the time to listen to another person’s story.

Sometimes the greatest ministry begins with seeing someone who feels invisible.

The Church has an incredible opportunity to reflect the heart of Christ.

Imagine churches becoming places where newcomers find hope instead of suspicion, friendship instead of isolation, and grace instead of rejection.

Imagine believers praying not only for their own families but also for the families who have traveled difficult roads in search of safety, stability, or a new beginning.

The love of Christ has always crossed every barrier humanity has tried to build.

When we remember that, our hearts begin to change.

Today, let’s pray for immigrant families in our neighborhoods and throughout the world. Pray for their safety, for wisdom for those making difficult decisions, for churches to faithfully serve their communities, and for our leaders as they seek solutions that uphold both justice and compassion.

Then ask the Lord a simple but life-changing question:

“Jesus, how can You use me to love my neighbors today?”

Because prayer is never meant to end with “Amen.”

Prayer changes us.

Prayer opens our eyes.

Prayer moves our hands and feet.

May we become known as people who welcome others with the same grace that Christ has shown us.

One day, people from every tribe, every language, every nation, and every people will stand together before the throne of God, worshiping Jesus with one voice.

Until then, may we live as citizens of His Kingdom—loving generously, serving humbly, praying faithfully, and reflecting the heart of Christ to everyone we meet.

Prayer:

Dear God, we lift up immigrant families around the world and in our own communities. You know every journey, every fear, every hope, and every need. Protect those who are vulnerable, comfort those who are grieving, strengthen families facing uncertainty, and provide opportunities for peace and flourishing. Give wisdom to our leaders as they make difficult decisions, and help Your Church to be a place of compassion, truth, and hope. Teach us to love our neighbors as You have loved us, so that our lives point others to Jesus Christ. In His powerful and holy name we pray, Amen.

0

Dear God, We Give You This Moment

Today’s a new day!

This past Friday, the church Laura and I are currently attending experienced an unimaginable tragedy. The sixteen-year-old grandson of the founding pastor lost his life in a diving accident.

There are moments in life when words seem painfully inadequate. No explanation can remove the grief. No sermon can erase the tears. No answer can completely satisfy the questions that arise when a young life is taken far too soon.

My heart breaks for his family. It breaks for his friends. It breaks for this church family and for everyone whose life was touched by this remarkable young man.

Today, I simply pray:

Jesus, surround them with Your peace that surpasses all understanding. Hold them close when the silence feels overwhelming. Be their comfort when words fail. Be their strength when every step feels impossible.

Scripture reminds us that “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18). Those words are not clichés. They are promises for moments exactly like this.

As believers, we don’t grieve without hope. We grieve honestly. We cry. We ask questions. We lean on one another. And we cling to the One who has already conquered death through the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

While none of us can fully understand why tragedies like this happen, I believe God is able to meet people in the deepest valleys of life. Throughout history, He has brought hope where there was despair, healing where there were wounds, and faith where there were questions. I pray He will do that again in our community.  

My prayer is that, even in the midst of heartbreaking loss, people throughout our county will encounter the love, grace, and presence of Jesus in a way they never have before. I pray that those who have drifted from God will seek Him. I pray that those who have never known Him will discover the hope found only in Christ. I pray that our churches will become places where the hurting are welcomed, the broken are loved, and the Gospel is lived with compassion.

Revival has often begun not in moments of comfort, but in moments when people recognized their desperate need for God. I pray that our response to this tragedy will be to love more deeply, serve more faithfully, pray more earnestly, and point more clearly to Jesus.

Today, there are no easy answers.

Only a Savior who weeps with those who weep.

Only a Shepherd who walks through the valley with His sheep.

Only a King who defeated death and promises eternal life to those who trust in Him.

So today, as one church family, one community, and one body of Christ…

Dear God, we give You this moment.

Bring comfort where there is sorrow.

Bring peace where there is anxiety.

Bring hope where there is despair.

Bring healing where hearts have been shattered.

And may Your love shine so brightly through Your people that many come to know Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior.

Please join me in praying for this precious family, for the church family, and for everyone affected by this heartbreaking loss.~OC

1

Faces Covered, Hearts Exposed: What This Train Car Teaches Us About Hate And Christian Nationalism

Courage vs Cowards

Today’s a new day! Here are my thoughts on this photo taken on the Metro in Washington, D.C. The following are my thoughts and opinions. If you happen to disagree with me, I encourage you to take it up with God.

Look at this photo. A young woman sits alone on a train, surrounded by dozens of men in matching uniforms, faces covered, patches bearing flags. She meets the camera’s eye. They refuse to be seen.

This image is a parable. And it’s the opposite of the Gospel.

The Gospel unmasks. Hate hides.

Jesus never hid His face. He wept publicly, prayed publicly, died publicly. “I have spoken openly to the world,” He told His accusers. (John 18:20)

Hate loves masks. It loves anonymity, mobs, and intimidation. Why? Because deeds done in darkness don’t survive the light (John 3:20). When an ideology needs to cover faces to deliver its message, it’s already confessed something about that message.

Christian Nationalism too often puts a mask on Jesus. It takes the crucified Savior and dresses Him in the uniform of earthly power. But Christ doesn’t need our flags stitched to His robe. “My kingdom is not of this world” (John 18:36). When we try to make it of this world, we end up looking like this train car: coercive, not compelling.

The Gospel draws near. Hate surrounds.

Notice the posture here. One person, isolated. Many others, standing, looming. That’s not how Jesus moved through crowds. 

He touched lepers when others stepped back. He invited Zacchaeus down from a tree when the crowd boxed him out. He stopped for the woman no one else would look at. The Gospel breaks circles of exclusion. Hate forms them.

Christian Nationalism, at its worst, baptizes “us vs. them.” It defines who belongs and who threatens. But the cross destroyed the dividing wall of hostility (Ephesians 2:14). If our faith needs an enemy to stay strong, it isn’t Christian faith. It’s civil religion with a cross necklace.

The Gospel sees the individual. Hate sees categories.

I don’t know the woman’s name in the photo. You don’t either. But God does. She isn’t a symbol. She’s a person made in His image (Genesis 1:27)

Movements built on hate don’t see people. They see demographics, threats, problems to solve. They make you afraid to sit alone on a train in your own city. 

Jesus’s first question to people was often, “What do you want me to do for you?” (Mark 10:51). He saw individuals. Christian Nationalism tends to see a “nation to save” and turns people into footnotes. When saving “America” matters more than loving the person next to you on the Metro, we’ve lost the plot.

So what do we do when the train car feels like the world?

Uncover our own faces: Confess where contempt has crept into our hearts. It’s easy to hate the masked men too. Jesus doesn’t give us that option. “Love your enemies” (Luke 6:27) includes them.

Sit with the isolated: Who in your life feels like that woman on the train? The Gospel moves us toward them, not away. Proximity kills caricatures.

Refuse the idols of power and fear: The early church changed the Roman Empire without voting, lobbying, or taking up swords. They did it by loving radically and dying well. Our witness still works that way.

Remember what we’re witnessing to: Not a Christian nation. A crucified Christ. “We preach Christ crucified… the power of God and the wisdom of God” (1 Corinthians 1:23-24). 

This photo should grieve us. Not just because of what it says about them, but because of what it reveals about us. Every one of those masked hearts was knit together by God. Every one of them is someone Christ died for. So is she. So are you. So am I.

Hate says, “Cover your face and find your strength in numbers.” 

Jesus says, “Take up your cross and find your life by losing it.”

The train is still running. The choice is still ours. Which kingdom will we board? ~OC

1

Hope Isles: A New Beginning/ Chapter Thirteen- The Choice

James barely slept.

The conversation with his father lingered long after the house had gone quiet.

Tomorrow, you decide which road you’re really on.

The words replayed in his mind through the night.

Not because he didn’t understand them.

Because he did.

And that made them impossible to ignore.

Morning arrived slowly.

Sunlight spilled through the kitchen window as James poured himself a cup of coffee.

His father was already awake.

Again.

Bible open.

Reading.

The sight no longer felt surprising.

It felt familiar.

His father looked up.

“You decide yet?”

James smirked.

“Good morning to you too.”

His father chuckled softly.

“That’s not an answer.”

James sat down across from him.

Neither man spoke for a moment.

Finally James sighed.

“I don’t know.”

His father nodded.

“Then maybe you’re asking the wrong question.”

James looked at him.

“What does that mean?”

His father closed the Bible.

“You’re trying to decide where you’re supposed to be.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

“No.”

The answer came quickly.

Firmly.

“The real question is who you’re supposed to be.”

Silence followed.

The kind that carried weight.

Not pressure.

Truth.

His father continued.

“You can be in the right place and still be the wrong man.”

Those words landed somewhere deep.

Because James knew exactly what he meant.

For years he’d been chasing destinations.

Careers.

Cities.

Opportunities.

Fresh starts.

Thinking the next place would somehow become the answer.

But Hope Isles had taught him something different.

Healing wasn’t geography.

It was transformation.

A knock at the door interrupted the moment.

Rebecca entered carrying a small folder.

“I hate being the bearer of serious conversations this early.”

James laughed softly.

“You’ve gotten pretty good at it.”

She handed the folder to his father.

Medical reports.

Appointments.

Timelines.

Reality.

The older man glanced at them before setting them aside.

“I’m not spending today looking at numbers.”

Rebecca smiled.

“Good.”

For a moment all three simply sat together.

Then James spoke.

“I’m going back.”

The words surprised even him.

Rebecca’s eyes widened.

His father didn’t react immediately.

Almost as though he’d already known.

“Hope Isles?” Rebecca asked.

James nodded.

“Hope Isles.”

The room became quiet.

His father slowly leaned back in his chair.

“When?”

James stared out the window.

“Tomorrow.”

His father smiled.

Not because he was happy James was leaving.

Because he was happy James had stopped running.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

James looked at him.

“You knew?”

His father nodded.

“The minute you started talking about that town.”

Rebecca laughed.

“You talked about it a lot.”

James shook his head.

“I didn’t realize.”

“You did,” she said.

“Every conversation eventually ended there.”

The realization settled over him.

Hope Isles wasn’t simply where he lived.

It was where he had become alive again.

That afternoon they took another walk.

This one slower than the day before.

The summer breeze moved gently through the trees.

Neither man felt the need to fill every silence.

Some relationships reach a point where words become less important.

This was becoming one of them.

Eventually they reached a small overlook above the water.

His father stopped.

Breathing carefully.

Looking out across the horizon.

“You know what I regret most?”

James waited.

“Not the mistakes.”

James frowned.

“What then?”

His father stared into the distance.

“The years I wasted pretending I was fine.”

That answer caught James off guard.

His father continued.

“Pride stole more from me than failure ever did.”

The words hung there.

Raw.

Honest.

Painfully true.

James nodded slowly.

He understood.

More than he wanted to admit.

As they turned to walk back, his father placed a hand on his shoulder.

A simple gesture.

But one that carried decades of meaning.

“You have something I never had.”

James looked at him.

“What?”

His father smiled.

“A second chance while there’s still time.”

Back in Hope Isles, preparations were quietly underway.

Not because anyone knew James was returning.

But because Hope Isles always seemed to sense things before they happened.

June was cleaning tables when she suddenly stopped.

Joe noticed immediately.

“What now?”

She smiled.

“Nothing.”

“You got that look.”

“What look?”

“The one that means you’re about to say something mysterious.”

June laughed.

“I think someone’s coming home.”

Joe rolled his eyes.

“You say that every week.”

“And eventually I’m right.”

Across town, Sarah sat on the porch of Hope House watching the sunset.

The empty rocking chair beside her remained untouched.

For weeks.

She looked toward the road.

Not expecting anything.

Not waiting.

Just wondering.

Ethan stepped outside carrying two glasses of lemonade.

“You thinking about him again?”

Sarah accepted the drink.

“Maybe.”

Ethan sat down.

“You know something?”

“What?”

“I think he’s closer than we realize.”

Sarah smiled faintly.

Hope Isles had a funny way of making people believe things they couldn’t explain.

Back at his father’s house, James packed a small bag.

The same bag he’d arrived with.

Yet somehow everything felt different now.

Not because his circumstances had changed.

Because he had.

Later that evening, he found his father sitting on the porch.

Watching the stars.

James took the empty chair beside him.

Neither spoke for several minutes.

Finally his father broke the silence.

“I’m proud of you.”

James looked over.

The words hit harder than expected.

Harder than apologies.

Harder than explanations.

Because they were simple.

And real.

His father smiled.

“I should have said that years ago.”

James felt emotion rise in his chest.

But this time he didn’t push it away.

He simply let it exist.

The stars stretched endlessly above them.

Quiet

Steady.

Faithful.

Much like grace.

And somewhere beyond the darkness, a small island town waited.

Not because it needed James.

But because he had finally become the man capable of returning.

Tomorrow he would begin the journey back.

But tonight—

for the first time in a very long time—

he felt at peace with both where he came from…

and where he was going.

And far away in Hope Isles, a church bell rang softly in the evening air.

As if heaven itself was preparing for a homecoming.

To Be Continued…

0

The Morning That Changed My Prayer Life Forever

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

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

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

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

For a season, God allowed me to run again.

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

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

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

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

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

That’s when everything changed.

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

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

The blue skies disappeared.

Darkness surrounded me.

The temperature became unbearably hot.

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

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

Around me I heard people crying out in desperation.

They were screaming.

Over and over I heard words that pierced my heart:

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

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

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

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

The entire experience lasted only a matter of seconds.

Then it was over.

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

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

That morning changed my life forever.

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

Every person I meet has an eternal soul.

Every conversation matters.

Every act of kindness matters.

Every prayer matters.

Every opportunity to share the love of Jesus matters.

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

Jesus didn’t come to condemn the world.

He came to save it.

That experience gave me an urgency that has never faded.

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

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

People all around us are searching for hope.

Many have never truly experienced the grace of Jesus.

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

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

May that never be said of us.

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

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

I know there will be questions.

There may even be skepticism.

I understand that.

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

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

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

As Scripture reminds us:

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

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

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

Let’s tell them. ~OC

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑