Tag: faith

Life With Purpose

Today’s a new day!

Twenty-four years ago, I never imagined the road my life would take.

If someone had told me I would spend decades walking through cancer, Parkinson’s Disease, Myasthenia Gravis, a stroke, gastroparesis, early-stage Lewy Body Dementia, countless hospital stays, surgeries, treatments, and more doctor’s appointments than I could ever count, I probably would have wondered how anyone could endure that much.

The truth is, there have been days when I wondered the same thing.

There have been moments when fear tried to take over. There have been seasons of grief as I watched abilities I once took for granted slowly disappear. As a former marathon runner, I remember what it felt like to run mile after mile with freedom. Today, every step is a reminder that life has changed.

But here’s what I’ve discovered.

I couldn’t choose my diagnoses, but I could choose what I did with them.

Somewhere along this journey, God began changing my perspective. Instead of asking, “Lord, why is this happening to me?” I found myself asking, “Lord, how can You use this for Your glory?”

That question changed everything.

Purpose doesn’t eliminate pain, but it gives pain eternal significance.

Some of the most powerful moments of my faith haven’t happened in church buildings. They’ve happened in emergency rooms, hospital rooms, intensive care units, doctor’s offices, and quiet moments when all I could do was whisper the name of Jesus.

I’ve experienced frightening hallucinations brought on by Parkinson’s Disease and dementia. They were unlike anything I had ever known. Yet even in those moments, when my mind should have been consumed with fear, God filled it with peace and worship. Songs came flooding into my heart. Instead of darkness having the final word, Jesus reminded me that His presence reaches places illness never can.

Those songs eventually became Songs in the Battle.

What the enemy intended to use to discourage me, God transformed into worship.

In 2019, during surgery, God gave me a glimpse of Heaven that forever changed how I see suffering. I experienced a place more beautiful than words could ever describe. I had no pain. I had a new body. I didn’t want to leave.

Then I heard these words:

“Not yet, my son. I have more work for you to complete.”

When I woke up in recovery pointing toward Heaven, I knew my life no longer belonged to me. It belonged completely to the One who had sent me back.

That experience didn’t remove my health challenges.

It gave them purpose.

I’ve learned that ministry isn’t confined to a platform or a microphone. Sometimes ministry looks like encouraging another patient in a waiting room. Sometimes it’s praying for a nurse who has had an exhausting shift. Sometimes it’s simply choosing joy when your circumstances make no sense.

Every diagnosis has become another opportunity to testify to God’s faithfulness.

Every setback has become another opportunity to trust Him.

Every scar has become another reminder that God is still writing my story.

I’ve also learned that weakness isn’t the opposite of usefulness.

The world measures people by what they can produce. God measures us by our willingness to trust Him. Scripture reminds us that His power is made perfect in weakness. Looking back, I can honestly say I’ve often experienced God’s strength most clearly when I had none of my own.

If my journey has taught me anything, it’s that purpose isn’t determined by our physical abilities. It’s determined by our willingness to surrender whatever we have to God.

I don’t know what tomorrow’s doctor’s appointment will bring.

I don’t know what new challenge may be waiting around the corner.

But I do know this:

As long as God gives me breath, I want every breath to point someone toward Jesus.

If my story gives hope to someone newly diagnosed…

If it encourages a caregiver who is exhausted…

If it reminds someone that miracles still happen—even when they don’t look the way we expected…

If it helps one person discover that Jesus never abandons us in our suffering…

Then every difficult day has eternal value.

I have made the choice to live out my health issues with purpose.

Not because this journey has been easy.

Not because I enjoy suffering.

But because I have seen, time and time again, that God never wastes a surrendered life.

My health challenges are part of my testimony, but they are not my identity.

My identity is found in Jesus Christ.

And as long as He continues to write my story, I will keep telling the world that hope is alive, miracles still happen, and no diagnosis is greater than the faithfulness of God. ~OC

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Your Church

Today’s a new day!

If the church you attend closed its doors tomorrow, would your community even notice?

It’s a question that has challenged me deeply.

If the church you attend closed its doors tomorrow, would your neighborhood notice? Would the hungry lose a place to find a meal? Would the lonely lose a place where they were known by name? Would children lose mentors? Would struggling families lose hope? Would the grieving lose people who would sit beside them in their pain?

Or would life simply go on as if nothing had changed?

The Church was never meant to exist only inside four walls. Jesus didn’t call us to build comfortable religious clubs. He called us to be the salt of the earth and the light of the world. He called us to love our neighbors, care for the poor, welcome the stranger, visit the sick, defend the vulnerable, and proclaim the hope of the Gospel wherever we go.

The early Church didn’t change the world because they had impressive buildings. They changed the world because they loved with extraordinary generosity, served with radical compassion, and refused to ignore the people society overlooked.

Our communities shouldn’t know us because of the size of our sanctuary. They should know us because of the size of our love.

Imagine if every church became known as the place where no one went hungry, no one grieved alone, no child was forgotten, and no person was beyond the reach of grace.

That’s the kind of Church Jesus envisioned.

So maybe the better question isn’t whether our church would be missed.

Maybe it’s this:

Are we making such a difference in our community that our absence would leave a hole only the love of Christ could fill?

May we never settle for simply gathering on Sundays. May we become the hands and feet of Jesus every day of the week, so that our communities don’t just know where our church is—they know what God’s love looks like because we have lived it. ~OC

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Your Church

Today’s a new day!

If the church you attend closed its doors tomorrow, would your community even notice?

It’s a question that has challenged me deeply.

If the church you attend closed its doors tomorrow, would your neighborhood notice? Would the hungry lose a place to find a meal? Would the lonely lose a place where they were known by name? Would children lose mentors? Would struggling families lose hope? Would the grieving lose people who would sit beside them in their pain?

Or would life simply go on as if nothing had changed?

The Church was never meant to exist only inside four walls. Jesus didn’t call us to build comfortable religious clubs. He called us to be the salt of the earth and the light of the world. He called us to love our neighbors, care for the poor, welcome the stranger, visit the sick, defend the vulnerable, and proclaim the hope of the Gospel wherever we go.

The early Church didn’t change the world because they had impressive buildings. They changed the world because they loved with extraordinary generosity, served with radical compassion, and refused to ignore the people society overlooked.

Our communities shouldn’t know us because of the size of our sanctuary. They should know us because of the size of our love.

Imagine if every church became known as the place where no one went hungry, no one grieved alone, no child was forgotten, and no person was beyond the reach of grace.

That’s the kind of Church Jesus envisioned.

So maybe the better question isn’t whether our church would be missed.

Maybe it’s this:

Are we making such a difference in our community that our absence would leave a hole only the love of Christ could fill?

May we never settle for simply gathering on Sundays. May we become the hands and feet of Jesus every day of the week, so that our communities don’t just know where our church is—they know what God’s love looks like because we have lived it. ~OC

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Good Trouble for the Church

Today’s a new day!

The late Congressman and civil rights leader John Lewis left us with a simple but powerful challenge: “Get into good trouble, necessary trouble.”Get His words were never an invitation to create chaos. They were a call to courage—to stand for what is right when remaining silent would be easier.

As I look at the state of the American Church today, I can’t help but wonder if we need a little more good trouble.

I love the Church. I believe Jesus established the Church to be the hope of the world, a place where broken people discover healing, where sinners find grace, where the lonely find family, and where the Gospel transforms lives. My concern doesn’t come from a lack of love—it comes because I love the Church too much to stay silent when I see it drifting from its mission.

Too often, it seems many churches and Christian leaders have become more passionate about politics than about the Gospel. We know how to defend a political party, but do we defend the forgotten? We know how to argue over elections, but do we weep over the lost? We rally around candidates, but are we rallying around the Cross?

The Gospel was never meant to be wrapped in a political or American flag.

Jesus didn’t tell His followers to seek political power. He told them to deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow Him. He welcomed the outsider, touched the untouchable, defended the marginalized, and proclaimed good news to the poor. His ministry consistently crossed cultural, social, and political boundaries because His Kingdom was never confined by them.

The Church should be known first for its love—not its voting record.

Perhaps it’s time for some “Good Trouble.”

The kind of good trouble that speaks up when refugees are treated without dignity.

The kind of good trouble that refuses to ignore the hungry, the homeless, the disabled, the widow, the orphan, and the immigrant because Scripture refuses to ignore them.

The kind of good trouble that challenges churches to be known more for compassion than for culture wars.

The kind of good trouble that reminds us our neighbors are not our enemies.

The kind of good trouble that chooses the teachings of Jesus over political talking points.

This isn’t about choosing the political left or the political right. It’s about choosing the narrow road that Jesus called us to walk. The Kingdom of God has never fit neatly inside any political platform.

The early Church changed the world without controlling governments. They changed it because they loved radically, served sacrificially, shared generously, and proclaimed Christ boldly. They cared for plague victims, rescued abandoned children, fed the hungry, and welcomed those society rejected. Their witness wasn’t built on political influence—it was built on Christlike love.

Imagine if today’s Church became known once again for that kind of faith.

Imagine communities where every person—regardless of race, nationality, economic status, disability, or political affiliation—knew they would be welcomed because they bear the image of God.

Imagine churches where serving the poor mattered as much as winning debates.

Imagine Christians who were recognized not by the politicians they defended, but by the Savior they followed.

That’s the kind of good trouble our generation desperately needs.

The Gospel is still good news.

The Cross is still enough.

The Church still has the opportunity to be the light of the world—but only if we remember whose Kingdom we belong to.

May we have the courage to lovingly challenge what needs challenging, to speak truth with grace, and to follow Jesus wherever He leads—even when it costs us comfort, popularity, or influence.

If that causes a little good trouble, perhaps that’s exactly where the Church needs to be. ~OC

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You Can’t Outrun What You Won’t Face

Today’s a new day!

One of the hardest lessons in the Christian life is this:

You can’t outrun what you won’t face.

We often try.

We stay busy to avoid the pain.


We distract ourselves from conviction.


We bury wounds beneath success.


We pretend everything is fine while our hearts quietly break.

But the things we refuse to confront eventually confront us.

Unforgiveness grows into bitterness.


Hidden sin steals our joy.


Fear becomes a prison.


Grief that is never processed weighs down our souls.

Jesus never called us to run from our brokenness. He invites us to bring it to Him.

The beautiful truth of the Gospel is that we don’t have to face our struggles alone. Christ walks with us through every valley. The Holy Spirit gives us the courage to confront what we’ve been avoiding, and God’s grace meets us there—not with condemnation, but with mercy, healing, and hope.

Sometimes the greatest act of faith isn’t running harder. It’s stopping long enough to say:

“Lord, here I am. Search my heart. Heal what is broken. Change what needs to change.”

Healing often begins where honesty begins.

Freedom often begins where surrender begins.

And victory often begins the moment we stop running.

Whatever you’ve been avoiding today—a difficult conversation, a painful memory, a lingering sin, a wounded relationship, or a fear you’ve carried for years—don’t keep running.

Bring it to Jesus.

Because what you surrender to Him no longer has to define you. ~OC

“Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” — Psalm 139:23

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What About the Children?

Today’s a new day!

An estimated 205,000 children have had a parent detained by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement since early 2025. Researchers estimate that approximately 145,000 of those children are American citizens. Behind every statistic is a frightened child whose world changed in an instant.

This debate is often framed around immigration policy, border security, and the rule of law. Those are important conversations. But there is another question we cannot afford to ignore:

What about the children?

What happens to the little boy who comes home from school and discovers that Mom never came back? What happens to the little girl who watches her father disappear into detention and doesn’t know when—or if—she will ever see him again? What happens to the grandparents, neighbors, churches, teachers, and communities left trying to pick up the pieces?

These children did not choose where they were born. They did not choose their parents’ immigration status. They are innocent. Many are American citizens. Yet they often carry the emotional weight of decisions they never made.

As Christians, our response cannot depend on politics. Our response must be shaped by Jesus.

Jesus welcomed children when others overlooked them. He blessed them. He protected them. He warned against causing them harm. He made it clear that caring for “the least of these” is not optional—it is part of what it means to follow Him.

The Church should be asking difficult questions.

Who is checking on these children?

Who is making sure they have food?

Who is helping them process trauma?

Who is praying with them?

Who is opening their homes, offering counseling, providing childcare, or simply reminding them they are not forgotten?

If we believe every child is made in the image of God, then every child deserves our compassion—regardless of nationality, politics, or the circumstances surrounding their family.

The Church has always been at its best when it has stepped into broken places with the love of Christ. This is one of those moments.

This is not about choosing between compassion and the law. A nation can enforce its laws while followers of Jesus demonstrate mercy to those caught in the middle. Those two ideas are not mutually exclusive.

So I’ll ask again:

What about the children?

May the Church be known not for making excuses, but for showing up. Not for debating who deserves compassion, but for extending it. And not for looking away from suffering, but for reflecting the heart of Jesus to every child who needs hope. ~OC

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Not Dead Yet: A Joyful Rebellion

Today’s a new day!

There is something beautifully rebellious about waking up each morning, opening your eyes, taking a deep breath, and whispering, “Thank You, Jesus.”

In a world that expects you to quit…
choose joy.

In a culture that celebrates outrage…
choose peace.

When pain tells you to give up…
choose hope.

Every smile in the middle of suffering is an act of defiance.

Every prayer whispered through tears is a declaration that darkness doesn’t get the final word.

Every act of kindness in a cynical world is a revolution.

I’ve learned that joy isn’t pretending everything is okay. Joy is looking straight at the storm and saying, “My God is still faithful.”

My body has given me more reasons to complain than I can count. There have been diagnoses, setbacks, fear, uncertainty, and days when simply standing up felt like climbing a mountain.

But here’s the beautiful truth:

I’m not dead yet.

So I still have a purpose.

I still have someone to encourage.

I still have songs to sing.

I still have prayers to pray.

I still have love to give.

I still have a Gospel worth proclaiming.

The enemy may have tried to silence my voice, but he couldn’t silence my praise.

He may have attacked my body, but he couldn’t steal my hope.

He may have shaken my world, but he couldn’t move the Rock on which I stand.

So every day I laugh…

Every day I worship…

Every day I love people…

Every day I forgive…

Every day I choose gratitude…

That is my joyful rebellion.

Because joy confuses despair.

Hope frustrates fear.

Love outlasts hate.

Grace overwhelms guilt.

And Jesus has already won.

If you’re reading this while carrying a burden no one else can see, don’t let your circumstances write the final chapter.

As long as God has given you breath, He has given you purpose.

As long as your heart beats, your story isn’t finished.

So stand up if you can.

Smile if you can.

Sing if you can.

Pray when you can’t.

And if all you can do today is whisper the name of Jesus, that’s enough.

Because the greatest rebellion against darkness is a life that refuses to stop believing in the Light.

Not dead yet.

Still praising.

Still believing.

Still loving.

Still becoming.

Still following Jesus.

And by His grace…

I’m just getting started. ~OC

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Dear America

Today’s a new day!

Before anyone argues over political parties, it’s worth asking a simple question: What should Americans expect from their President during difficult times?

As our nation faces the uncertainty that comes with war, families continue to struggle with high grocery bills, high gas prices, and the everyday pressure of making ends meet. Millions of Americans are worried about paying rent, affording medications, keeping food on the table, and wondering what tomorrow will bring.

Against that backdrop, many people expect the President to project steadiness—to unite the nation, communicate clearly, and focus on the challenges facing ordinary Americans.

Instead, on a Saturday night, the national conversation became centered on attacks against journalists and name-calling. Whether someone supports the President or opposes him, that kind of rhetoric inevitably raises questions about priorities.

Leadership is more than winning an argument or dominating a news cycle. It is about lifting people’s eyes above division. It is about reassuring a worried nation, comforting military families, encouraging first responders, supporting struggling workers, and reminding Americans that we are stronger together than apart.

Every President inherits crises. No administration escapes criticism. But history often remembers not just the policies leaders enacted—it remembers how they conducted themselves during moments of national stress.

Americans deserve leaders who spend more time solving problems than creating new controversies. They deserve leaders who speak with conviction without resorting to personal insults. They deserve leaders who understand that every public statement carries weight, especially when service members are in harm’s way and families are anxiously watching the headlines.

This is not a Republican issue or a Democratic issue. It is an American issue.

In moments like these, our greatest need is not louder political warfare. It is wiser leadership.

The office of the President carries extraordinary influence. Every word can either deepen division or inspire unity. At a time when Americans are looking for hope, stability, and direction, many are simply asking for a leader whose attention remains fixed on the challenges facing the nation rather than the people who cover it.

History is watching. More importantly, so are the generations who will one day ask what kind of leadership America chose during one of its most challenging seasons. ~OC

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My Hope and Prayer for Each of You

Today’s a new day!

As I continue walking this crazy beautiful journey that God has placed before me, I’ve spent a great deal of time reflecting on what truly matters.

When life is interrupted by doctor’s appointments, hospital stays, difficult diagnoses, and moments that remind you just how fragile life really is, your perspective begins to change.

The things that once seemed so important begin to lose their grip.

The things that truly matter become impossible to ignore.

If I could share one thought with every person I know—my family, my friends, and even those I may never have the privilege of meeting—it is simply this:

Don’t waste your life chasing things that won’t last.

The world constantly tells us to chase more money, more success, more recognition, more followers, more possessions, and more applause.

But none of those things will follow us into eternity.

Only what we do for Christ will last.

So love people well.

Love the people who are not easy to love.

Love the people who disappoint you.

Love the people who think differently than you.

Love the people Jesus loves—which, thankfully, is everyone.

Life is simply too short to withhold kindness.

Forgive quickly.

Bitterness is a prison that only hurts the one carrying it.

Jesus forgave us while we were still sinners. As His followers, may we become known as people who extend the same grace we’ve so freely received.

Encourage often.

You never know what battle someone is fighting behind a smile.

A kind word, a handwritten note, a phone call, a prayer, or simply showing up can become the very thing God uses to carry someone through one more day.

Let’s become people who leave others stronger than we found them.

Walk humbly.

Every blessing we have is a gift from God.

Every talent.

Every opportunity.

Every sunrise.

Every breath.

Humility isn’t thinking less of yourself; it’s thinking of yourself less and making room for Christ to be seen more clearly through your life.

Trust God completely.

Not just when life makes sense.

Trust Him when the diagnosis changes.

Trust Him when the prayers seem unanswered.

Trust Him when the future feels uncertain.

Trust Him because His character never changes, even when our circumstances do.

I’ve learned that God has never once asked me to understand everything.

He has simply asked me to trust Him.

Keep your eyes on Jesus.

The world is loud.

Fear is loud.

Politics are loud.

Social media is loud.

Opinions are loud.

But Jesus still whispers, “Follow Me.”

Don’t allow the noise of this world to drown out the voice of the Good Shepherd.

Fix your eyes on the One who calmed storms, healed broken hearts, welcomed the outcast, carried the cross, defeated death, and still reigns today.

Finally, never forget this beautiful truth:

No matter what you are facing…

His grace is sufficient.

His love never fails.

His mercy is new every morning.

His peace passes understanding.

His presence never leaves you.

His promises are true.

That isn’t wishful thinking.

That is the unchanging character of God.

If my life has taught me anything over these many years, it is this:

Jesus is enough.

Not because life has always been easy.

But because He has always been faithful.

So this is my hope and prayer for each of you.

May you love more deeply than you ever thought possible.

May you forgive as freely as Christ has forgiven you.

May you become an encourager in a world desperate for hope.

May humility become your strength.

May your trust in God grow deeper with every season.

May your eyes remain fixed on Jesus no matter what comes your way.

And when your own earthly journey is complete, may your life tell the story of a Savior who never left your side, never stopped loving you, and never failed to keep His promises.

Until that glorious day, may we continue to walk by faith, love without limits, and shine the light of Christ wherever He leads us.

May our greatest achievement never be measured by what we accumulated, but by how faithfully we loved God and loved people.

And may everything we do point others to Jesus. ~OC

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Learning To Live From Those Preparing To Die

Today’s a new day!

As I have walked this long and often difficult health journey, I have discovered something about myself that may seem surprising.

I love talking with people who know they are nearing the end of their lives.

It isn’t because I have become fascinated with death. It is because, in many ways, those conversations are more about life than death.

There is something profoundly beautiful about the honesty that often emerges when someone knows their time is limited. The masks begin to fall away. The need to impress others disappears.

The pressure to maintain an image no longer matters. They are no longer trying to convince the world—or themselves—that they have it all together.

Instead, they simply tell the truth.

They admit their fears. They acknowledge their regrets. They celebrate what mattered most. They talk about family more than finances, relationships more than résumés, and faith more than fame. They have come to understand that life is not about accumulating things or building a reputation. It is about loving well, living with purpose, and leaving behind something far more valuable than possessions.

One of the greatest lessons they teach me is humility.

They know the world will continue after they are gone. Businesses will keep operating. The sun will rise. New memories will be made. Life moves on. That realization doesn’t seem to make them bitter; instead, it often makes them grateful. It gives them clarity about what truly deserves their time and attention.

Walking through my own health challenges has changed how I hear these conversations. When your own body reminds you that life is fragile, you begin listening differently. You stop assuming there will always be another opportunity to say what needs to be said, to forgive, to love, or to pursue what really matters.

You begin asking different questions.

Am I living with integrity?

Am I investing in people more than accomplishments?

Am I chasing significance or simply seeking approval?

If I knew my time was short, what would I wish I had done differently?

My sincere hope and prayer is that everyone reading this enjoys a long, healthy, and productive life. I hope your years are filled with purpose, meaningful work, deep relationships, laughter, and joy.

But I also hope you won’t wait until the final chapter of your life to embrace the wisdom that so many discover only then.

Spend time with those nearing the end of life’s journey. Listen more than you speak. Their perspective is a gift. They have little interest in pretending, competing, or impressing anyone. They have learned that authenticity is far more valuable than appearance and that love always outlasts achievement.

The people I have met in this season have reminded me that the greatest measure of a life is not how much we accumulated, but how faithfully we loved, how generously we served, and how honestly we lived.

Perhaps that is the invitation for all of us.

We don’t have to wait until death is near to become honest. We don’t have to wait until our health fails to appreciate the gift of today. We don’t have to wait until the end of our story to begin living the life we were created to live.

If we are willing to listen, those preparing to leave this world may become some of our greatest teachers. Their final lessons are not really about dying.

They are about living.

And the wisest thing we can do is learn those lessons while we still have time to put them into practice. ~OC

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