Tag: Grateful

Your Attitude Matters

Today’s a new day!

The only difference between a good day and a bad day is often your attitude. You cannot control every circumstance, every disappointment, or every storm that comes your way, but you can choose how you respond.

Some days will be harder than others. Some mornings you will wake up ready to conquer the world, while other mornings simply getting out of bed will feel like a victory. But every day is another opportunity to find hope, show kindness, love others, and make a difference.

You may not get to choose what happens today, but you can choose the attitude you bring into it.

Start your day with gratitude, walk in faith, give yourself grace, and remember that God is still at work—even on the difficult days.

Keep smiling. Keep believing. Keep overcoming.

TODAY IS A GIFT FROM GOD. MAKE IT COUNT! ~OC

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If Tomorrow Wasn’t Promised, What Would You Give Today?

Today’s a new day!

We spend so much time worrying about tomorrow that we forget to appreciate the gift we’ve been given today. We put off the phone calls, postpone the hugs, hold back the words “I love you,” and wait for the perfect moment to live the life God has given us.

But what if tomorrow never comes?

Today is a gift. That’s why we call it the present. 

Love a little deeper. Forgive a little quicker. Laugh a little louder. Encourage someone who is struggling. Tell your family and friends how much they mean to you. And most importantly, thank God for the breath in your lungs and the opportunity to make a difference in someone’s life.

You don’t have to change the entire world today. You just have to make a difference in the world God has placed right in front of you.

Remember, yesterday is gone, tomorrow isn’t guaranteed, but today is your opportunity.

Don’t just count your days. Make your days count. Live with purpose, love with abandon, walk by faith, and never take another breath for granted.

KEEP FIGHTING. KEEP BELIEVING. KEEP OVERCOMING. ~OC

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Why Am I Still Alive?

Today’s a new day!

Twenty-four years. Multiple diagnoses. Countless tests, treatments, surgeries, hospitalizations, and moments when the future looked anything but certain. And somehow, by the grace of God, I am still here.

Sometimes I sit back and ask myself a question that I don’t always know how to answer.

WHY AM I STILL ALIVE?

I’m not asking that question for attention. I’m not asking it because I want people to feel sorry for me. And I’m certainly not asking it because I believe I’m stronger than someone else who didn’t survive their battle.

I’m asking because, after everything my body has endured over the last twenty-four years, there are moments when I honestly don’t understand how I’m still standing.

I’ve lived with multiple life threatening health issues. I have experienced moments when my health has deteriorated so badly that living another day wasn’t something I could take for granted.

I’ve heard the medical predictions. I’ve faced the uncertainty. I’ve endured the pain, the exhaustion, and the frustration of watching my body struggle to do things that once came naturally.

I’ve experienced moments when speaking was difficult, when my body wouldn’t cooperate, and when the future seemed to be slipping away from me.

I’ve spent time in intensive care. I’ve faced hospitalizations when things didn’t look good. I’ve experienced the kind of physical suffering that is difficult to explain to someone who hasn’t walked a similar road.

And through it all, one question continues to follow me.

WHY HAS GOD ALLOWED ME TO LIVE WHEN SO MANY TIMES IT SEEMED LIKE MY STORY SHOULD HAVE ENDED?

I wish I had a simple answer.

I don’t.

But I know this: JESUS. ONLY JESUS.

I’m not claiming that I understand every medical explanation, every close call, or every reason I’ve survived. I’m not suggesting that faith means we never need doctors, medicine, treatments, or the hands of medical professionals. God has worked through many of those people and resources in my life, and I am grateful for them.

I’m also not going to pretend that every day is a victory lap.

Some days hurt. Some nights seem endless. There are moments when the exhaustion runs deeper than words can explain. There are things I miss about the life I once had, and there are battles I never imagined I would have to fight.

My faith doesn’t make me immune to fear, frustration, grief, or questions.

Faith simply gives me somewhere to take those things.

I take them to Jesus.

Sometimes my prayers are long and full of words. Other times, all I can manage is a whisper. And sometimes, when I don’t have the strength to say anything at all, I simply hold on to the truth that He is still there.

I have learned that you don’t have to understand everything God is doing to trust Him with your life.

You don’t have to feel strong to keep believing.

And you don’t have to pretend everything is okay to have genuine faith.

I’M STILL HERE, BUT I’M NOT GOING TO PRETEND I KNOW WHY.

People sometimes talk about surviving as though it automatically makes someone a hero. But I don’t see myself that way.

I’m a husband. I’m a son. I’m a friend. I’m a child of God.

I’m a man who has experienced more medical battles than he ever expected, a man who has had to learn how to live with a body that doesn’t always cooperate, and a man who still has questions about what tomorrow might bring.

I’m not alive because I figured out some secret to beating every illness.

I’m not alive because I never became afraid.

And I’m certainly not alive because I have somehow earned more of God’s favor than someone who lost their battle.

I am still here, and I am deeply grateful for every additional day I have been given.

I believe Jesus has carried me through moments when I didn’t have the strength to carry myself. I believe His presence has sustained me when the circumstances around me offered very little comfort. I believe there is still purpose in loving people, encouraging others, sharing my faith, and telling the truth about what it means to walk through suffering.

But I cannot tell you with certainty why my story continues while someone else’s ended.

I won’t pretend to know God’s complete plan.

What I can tell you is that my survival has made me more aware of how precious life is, how fragile our bodies can be, and how desperately we need grace.

I no longer want to waste my life chasing things that don’t matter.

I want to love my wife well. I want to encourage the brokenhearted. I want to stand beside people who feel forgotten. I want to remind those who are struggling that their diagnoses do not erase their dignity, their value, or their identity.

I want people to see Jesus in the way I live, not simply in the words I write.

If I have another twenty years, I want to use them well.

If I have twenty more days, I want to use them well.

And if tomorrow brings another medical battle, I pray I will face it with the same Savior who has sustained me through the battles behind me.

Because the number of days I have left is not something I can control.

What I do with the day I’ve been given is something I can choose.

JESUS NEVER PROMISED ME AN EASY ROAD.

One of the hardest lessons I’ve learned is that following Jesus doesn’t mean we get to skip suffering.

Faithful people get sick.

Faithful people experience pain.

Faithful people sit beside hospital beds, receive devastating diagnoses, and sometimes bury the people they prayed would be healed.

And sometimes, despite our most desperate prayers, the outcome isn’t what we hoped for.

I believe in miracles. I’ve experienced moments in my own journey that I can only describe as miraculous. I believe God can heal, restore, strengthen, and do things beyond our understanding.

But I also believe that Jesus is worthy of our trust when healing doesn’t come the way we prayed it would.

My faith cannot depend entirely on whether my body gets better.

If I make physical healing the only evidence of God’s goodness, what happens on the days when my symptoms worsen? What happens when another diagnosis arrives? What happens when I wake up hurting?

Does that mean God has abandoned me?

No.

My circumstances may change. My physical abilities may change. My future may look different from the one I imagined.

But my identity in Christ does not depend on the condition of my body.

Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians 12:9 that God’s grace is sufficient and that His power is made perfect in weakness.

That Scripture means something different to me now than it did before I became seriously ill.

I understand that weakness isn’t always something we overcome in the way we hoped. Sometimes weakness is something we learn to live with while discovering that God’s grace is still sufficient.

Sometimes overcoming means getting out of bed.

Sometimes it means enduring another treatment.

Sometimes it means asking for help when our pride tells us not to.

Sometimes it means crying, praying, and getting through one more difficult day.

And sometimes, overcoming simply means refusing to believe that our suffering has made our lives meaningless.

I AM STILL AN OVERCOMER, EVEN ON THE DAYS WHEN I FEEL OVERWHELMED.

Not because I always win the battles I fight, but because my identity is rooted in the One who holds me through them.

SO, WHY AM I STILL ALIVE?

After twenty-four years of health battles, I could give you a dozen answers.

Medical professionals have treated me. My wife, Laura, has stood beside me through more than most people could imagine. Family and friends have prayed for me. People have encouraged me when I needed encouragement.

I am grateful for every single one of them.

But when I look back over the moments when I wondered whether I would survive, when I think about the times I had almost nothing left to give, and when I consider how much of this journey has been beyond my control, I keep coming back to the same place.

JESUS.

Not because I can explain every moment.

Not because I know what tomorrow holds.

Not because I believe I am guaranteed another miracle.

But because, in the middle of all my unanswered questions, He remains the foundation of my faith.

I don’t know how many more years I have.

I don’t know what the next diagnosis, treatment, or hospitalization might bring.

I don’t know whether the hardest part of my journey is behind me or still ahead.

But I know I don’t want to spend whatever time I have left living in fear of what might happen.

I want to live with purpose.

I want to love deeply.

I want to forgive freely.

I want to encourage relentlessly.

I want to tell people about the hope I’ve found in Jesus without pretending that following Him makes life easy.

And I want to remind people who are fighting battles of their own that they are more than the worst thing that has happened to them.

You are more than your diagnosis.

You are more than your mistakes.

You are more than the opinions of people who don’t understand your journey.

And you are not forgotten simply because your life looks different from the one you imagined.

I cannot promise you that everything will work out the way you want it to. I cannot promise that every prayer will be answered in the way you hope.

But I can tell you that you do not have to walk through your suffering alone.

Jesus meets us in the broken places. He gives us grace for the moments when we have none left to give ourselves. And He reminds us that our worth was never determined by our strength, our health, or our ability to keep everything together.

I am still here. I am still fighting. I am still believing. And I am still trusting Jesus.

Not because I have all the answers.

But because I know where to turn when I don’t.

Twenty-four years ago, I could never have imagined the road I would travel. I never would have chosen it. I would never wish these battles on anyone.

But I am here.

And as long as I am here, I want my life to point beyond me.

I want people to see more than a man with multiple medical diagnoses. I want them to see a husband who loves his wife, a friend who cares about people, a man who still believes in the power of prayer, and a child of God who is learning to trust Jesus one day at a time.

I don’t need to understand every chapter to be grateful that my story is still being written.

And I don’t need to know how many pages remain to make the next one count.

WHY AM I STILL ALIVE?

I don’t know the complete answer.

But I know who I am trusting with the question.

His name is Jesus.

And until He calls me home, I will keep loving, keep serving, keep believing, keep encouraging, and keep overcoming.

Not perfectly.

Not without pain.

Not without questions.

But by His grace, one day at a time.

ONLY JESUS KNOWS WHY I’M STILL HERE. SO, JESUS, WHILE I’M HERE, PLEASE HELP ME MAKE MY LIFE COUNT.

“For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” — Philippians 1:21

KEEP FIGHTING. KEEP BELIEVING. KEEP LOVING. KEEP OVERCOMING.

Your health issues may be part of your story, but they do not get to define the entirety of your life. Your story is still about the person you love, the people you encourage, the grace you extend, and the Jesus you follow.

— A Blessed Overcomer, still walking by faith. ~OC

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Who Is Your Tribe?

When the storms of life hit, who will still be standing beside you?

Let me ask you a few questions.

Who is your tribe? Who is your 3 a.m. phone call? Who are the people you can count on when life falls apart?

Not the people who show up when everything is going well. Not the people who celebrate your victories, enjoy your success, or want to be around when life is easy.

I’m talking about the people who show up when the diagnosis comes. When the phone rings with bad news. When the bills pile up, the tears won’t stop, your faith is being tested, and you don’t know how you’re going to make it through another day.

WHO ARE YOUR PEOPLE?

Life has a way of revealing who truly belongs in your tribe. Sometimes, it takes a storm to discover who is willing to stand with you in the rain.

Some people will pray for you from a distance. Others will get down in the trenches and pray beside you. Some will tell you they’re there for you, while others will quietly show up and prove it.

And sometimes, the greatest gift someone can give you isn’t advice, a Bible verse, or a promise that everything will be okay.

Sometimes, it’s simply their presence.

It’s the person who answers the phone at 3 a.m. It’s the friend who sits with you in a hospital room. It’s the person who checks on you when everyone else has moved on. It’s the one who reminds you of God’s faithfulness when you’re struggling to remember it yourself.

Those people are precious. Love them. Appreciate them. Thank God for them.

Ecclesiastes 4:9–10 reminds us that two are better than one because when one falls, the other can help them up.

That’s what community looks like. That’s what friendship looks like. That’s what being the hands and feet of Jesus looks like.

But here’s something else we need to remember.

While we’re asking who our tribe is, we also need to ask ourselves a difficult question:

ARE WE SOMEBODY ELSE’S TRIBE?

Are we the person who answers the phone when someone is hurting? Are we willing to sit beside someone in their darkest hour without trying to fix everything? Are we checking on the people who always say they’re fine but might be falling apart inside?

It’s easy to say, “I’m praying for you.”

It’s harder to show up, stay present, and walk beside someone through a storm that might last months or even years.

Jesus never promised us a life without storms. But He showed us what love looks like in the middle of them.

And sometimes, God answers our prayers for help through the people He places in our lives.

I’ve learned that life isn’t about how many people know your name, how many friends you have on social media, or how many people celebrate your victories.

It’s about the people who love you when you have nothing to offer them except your brokenness.

So today, take a moment to think about your tribe.

Who can you call at 3 a.m.?

Who will stand beside you when the storms come?

Who will pray with you when you can’t find the words to pray for yourself?

And just as importantly, whose name would appear on their phone if they needed someone at 3 a.m.?

If you have those people, thank God for them. Don’t take them for granted.

If you’re still searching for your tribe, don’t give up hope. Keep showing up. Keep loving people. Keep building genuine relationships. Sometimes, the family God gives us is the family we find along the way.

And if you know someone who is walking through a storm alone, don’t wait for them to ask for help. Reach out. Make the call. Send the text. Show up.

BE SOMEBODY’S 3 A.M. PHONE CALL. BE SOMEBODY’S TRIBE. BE THE REASON SOMEONE REMEMBERS THAT THEY ARE NOT ALONE.

Because when the storms of life come, we don’t need more spectators.

We need people willing to stand in the storm with us.

And church, isn’t that what we’re called to do?

To love one another. To carry one another’s burdens. To encourage the weary. To stand beside the brokenhearted.

Let’s stop being a church that simply tells people to have faith and become a church that demonstrates faith through action.

Life is hard. Storms are real. And none of us was meant to walk through this life alone.

Keep loving. Keep showing up. Keep praying. Keep overcoming.

And never underestimate what God can do through one person who refuses to walk away when everyone else does.

A PRAYER FOR OUR TRIBES

Lord Jesus, thank You for the people You place in our lives who stand beside us when the storms come. Help us recognize those relationships, nurture them, and never take them for granted. Teach us to be the kind of friends who answer the call, carry one another’s burdens, and love without conditions. Show us who might be hurting in silence and give us the courage to reach out. May we become Your hands and feet to a world that desperately needs to know it isn’t alone. In the powerful and precious name of Jesus. Amen.

ONE LAST QUESTION: WHO IS YOUR TRIBE, AND MORE IMPORTANTLY, WHOSE TRIBE ARE YOU? ~OC

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Dear Christians, Please Stop the Hate

Dear Christians,

Please stop the hate.

We live in a world that desperately needs Jesus, but sometimes the loudest voices claiming to represent Him are not reflecting Him at all.

We talk about Jesus, but do we love like Jesus?

We quote Scripture, but do we live it?

We defend our beliefs, but do we remember the words Jesus actually spoke?

The red letters of the Bible call us to love our enemies, pray for those who hurt us, forgive, show mercy, care for the hurting, welcome the stranger, serve the least of these, and love our neighbors as ourselves.

That isn’t weakness.

That is Christianity.

Jesus didn’t tell us to win every argument. He told us to love one another.

He didn’t tell us to build walls around ourselves. He told us to go and make disciples.

He didn’t tell us to hate people who disagree with us. He showed us how to love people who were different from Him.

So, dear Christians, let’s stop using Jesus as a weapon and start following Jesus as our Savior.

Let’s put down the hate.

Let’s put down the outrage.

Let’s put down the judgment.

And let’s pick up love, grace, mercy, compassion, forgiveness and truth.

Don’t just wear the name Christian. Live like Christ.

The world doesn’t need more people shouting about Jesus.

The world needs more people who actually live like Jesus.

“By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” — John 13:35

Love like Jesus.
Serve like Jesus.
Forgive like Jesus.
Live like Jesus.

That’s what the red letters are calling us to do. ~OC

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Grace For The Imperfect

Today’s a new day!

We live in a world that seems obsessed with perfection.

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

But here’s the problem:

None of us are perfect.

Not even close.

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

Sometimes we are our own harshest critics.

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

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

The person who seems distant may be hurting.

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

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

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

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

Grace doesn’t mean pretending that wrong is right.

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

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

It means correcting without condemning.

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

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

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

He met people in their mess.

He sat with sinners.

He touched the untouchable.

He forgave the broken.

He welcomed the rejected.

He restored people who had failed.

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

That’s grace.

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

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

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

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

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

But the Gospel calls us to something different.

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

What if we became people who were known for grace?

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

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

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

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

Because here’s the truth:

We’re all works in progress.

God isn’t finished with me.

God isn’t finished with you.

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

So give grace.

Give grace to the person who is learning.

Give grace to the person who is grieving.

Give grace to the person who is struggling.

Give grace to the person who failed.

Give grace to the person who is trying again.

Give grace to yourself.

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

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

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

Reach down and help them stand.

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

None of us are perfect.

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

So let’s stop demanding perfection from imperfect people.

Let’s love a little deeper.

Listen a little longer.

Judge a little slower.

Forgive a little quicker.

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

Grace doesn’t say, “You are perfect.”

Grace says,

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

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

Grace for the imperfect.

Because we’re all imperfect.

And we’re all in need of grace. ~OC

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

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The Most Important Parks of the Bible Don’t Have a Comma

Sometimes the most important parts of the Bible are the simplest.

Love God.
Love your neighbor.

And maybe we have spent far too much time trying to add a comma where Jesus never put one.

Love your neighbor, unless…

Unless they look different than you.

Unless they come from another country.

Unless they speak another language.

Unless they worship differently.

Unless they vote differently.

Unless they don’t believe what you believe.

Unless they have a different political party attached to their name.

Unless they are poor.

Unless they are struggling.

Unless they have made mistakes.

Unless they don’t fit neatly into your definition of who deserves love.

But Jesus didn’t give us a list of exceptions.

When Jesus was asked which commandment was the greatest, He pointed us toward loving God and loving our neighbor. And when someone tried to narrow down exactly who qualified as a neighbor, Jesus responded with the story of the Good Samaritan.

That wasn’t an accident.

The Samaritan was someone the religious people of Jesus’ day would have been tempted to look down upon. Yet Jesus made him the example of what loving a neighbor looks like.

That’s uncomfortable.

Because Jesus wasn’t asking us to love only the people who are easy to love.

He was asking us to love people.

Period.

Our neighbor isn’t defined by race, nationality, political party, socioeconomic status, immigration status, denomination, neighborhood, or whether they agree with us.

Our neighbor is our neighbor.

There is no comma.

There is no footnote.

There is no hidden exception clause.

And maybe that’s one of the greatest challenges facing the Church today.

We have become incredibly good at identifying who is different from us and incredibly comfortable deciding who deserves our compassion.

But Jesus keeps pulling us back to something much simpler:

Love.

Feed the hungry.

Welcome the stranger.

Care for the sick.

Defend the vulnerable.

Visit the lonely.

Help the hurting.

Forgive.

Show mercy.

And love your neighbor.

Not because they earned it.

Not because they agree with you.

Not because they look like you.

Not because they vote like you.

But because they bear the image of God.

So maybe before we ask, “Who is my neighbor?”

We should ask:

“Am I willing to love the neighbor Jesus has placed in front of me?”

Because the command isn’t:

Love your neighbor, unless…

It’s simply:

Love your neighbor.

No comma.

No conditions.

No exceptions.

Just Jesus.

And if we truly want to change the world, maybe we start by loving the person standing right in front of us.

Love God. Love people. Be the hands and feet of Jesus.

That’s the Gospel without the comma. ~OC

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What News Are Your Feet Bringing?

In the New Testament, there is a section of the book of Romans traditionally understood as a letter written by the apostle Paul to followers of Jesus gathered in house churches in first-century Rome.

Paul is talking about the importance of sharing the Gospel—the “good news.” And near the end of this section, he quotes the Old Testament prophet Isaiah:

And how are they to preach unless they are sent? As it is written, “How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news!” ~Romans 10:15

Think about that for a moment.

How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news.

What a beautiful picture.

Paul wasn’t talking about beautiful shoes. He wasn’t talking about polished feet or perfect appearances. He was talking about people who carry good news with them wherever they go.

And I wonder:

What kind of news are my feet bringing?

What happens when I walk into a room?

What happens when I sit down beside someone who is hurting?

What happens when I encounter someone who sees the world differently than I do?

What happens when I open my phone and start typing?

Because our feet don’t just take us from one physical location to another.

In a very real sense, we carry something with us.

We carry our words.

We carry our attitudes.

We carry our encouragement—or our discouragement.

We carry compassion—or judgment.

We carry hope—or fear.

And today, we carry all of that into the world through our social-media feeds.

We live in an age where bad news is available 24 hours a day.

Another alarming headline.

Another disturbing video.

Another political argument.

Another tragedy.

Another outrage.

Another reason to be angry.

Another reason to be afraid.

Another reason to divide ourselves into “us” and “them.”

And yes, we should pay attention to what is happening in the world. Ignoring suffering doesn’t make it disappear. We should care about injustice. We should care about our communities. We should care about people who are hurting.

But there is something else we should remember:

We are not powerless.

Take away the trending stories.

Take away the alarming updates.

Take away the endless arguments.

Take away the disturbing realities that fill our screens.

We are still sentient human beings with choices to make.

We still have time.

We still have resources.

We still have energy.

We still have words.

We still have opportunities.

We still have people around us who need someone to remind them that they matter.

And we still get to decide what kind of news our feet bring.

Maybe the good news today is a phone call to someone who feels forgotten.

Maybe it’s buying groceries for a neighbor who is struggling.

Maybe it’s sitting quietly with someone who doesn’t need an answer—they just need someone to stay.

Maybe it’s forgiving someone.

Maybe it’s listening before responding.

Maybe it’s choosing not to share that inflammatory post.

Maybe it’s encouraging someone who is ready to give up.

Maybe it’s welcoming the person everyone else has overlooked.

Maybe it’s being kind to the cashier, the server, the stranger, the immigrant, the lonely neighbor, the person sitting alone at church, or the person who doesn’t believe what you believe.

Maybe the good news isn’t something we post.

Maybe it’s something we become.

Our world doesn’t need more people adding gasoline to every fire.

It needs people willing to carry water.

It needs people willing to walk into difficult places and bring compassion.

It needs people willing to speak truth without losing love.

It needs people willing to disagree without dehumanizing.

It needs people who can look at the person in front of them and remember:

There is a human being here.

And for those of us who follow Jesus, perhaps this is part of what it means to live out the Gospel.

Not merely talking about good news.

Bringing good news.

Not merely posting Scripture.

Living Scripture.

Not merely telling people that God loves them.

Showing them what love looks like.

Romans 10:15 asks us to imagine beautiful feet—the feet of people who carry good news into the world.

So before we ask what the world is bringing to us today, perhaps we should ask a different question:

What are we bringing to the world?

What news will our feet carry into our homes?

What news will they carry into our workplaces?

What news will they carry into our churches?

What news will they carry into our neighborhoods?

And what news will they carry onto our social-media pages?

We may not be able to control every headline.

We may not be able to fix every problem.

We may not be able to change the entire world.

But we can choose what we carry into the little corner of the world where God has placed us today.

So go.

Walk into someone’s darkness carrying a little light.

Walk into someone’s loneliness carrying companionship.

Walk into someone’s fear carrying courage.

Walk into someone’s grief carrying presence.

Walk into someone’s anger carrying peace.

Walk into someone’s hopelessness carrying hope.

And if you follow Jesus, carry His love with you.

Because perhaps the question isn’t simply whether our feet are beautiful.

Perhaps the real question is:

What kind of news are our feet carrying?

May our feet carry good news.

May our words carry grace.

May our hands carry compassion.

May our lives carry hope.

And may the people we encounter today be able to say:

“I am glad you showed up.” ~OC

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I’m Curious

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

The questions peaked my curiosity.

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

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

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

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

I’m curious.

Because Micah 6:8 doesn’t say:

Act justly when it’s politically convenient.

Love mercy when the person deserves it.

Walk humbly when everyone agrees with you.

It simply says:

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

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

“Love your neighbor as yourself.”

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

America has laws.

America has leaders.

America has political parties.

But Jesus has disciples.

And disciples are called to something higher.

We are called to feed the hungry.

Welcome the stranger.

Defend the vulnerable.

Care for the forgotten.

Stand with the oppressed.

Speak truth when truth costs us something.

Love our enemies.

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

So maybe the question isn’t simply:

“Is America doing enough?”

Maybe the harder question is:

“Am I?”

Am I loving my neighbor?

Am I showing mercy?

Am I pursuing justice?

Am I walking humbly?

Am I willing to speak when silence would be easier?

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

Because before I am an American…

I am a follower of Jesus.

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

I have to follow Him.

That’s not anti-American.

That’s discipleship.

Jesus first.
Neighbor second.
Politics somewhere far behind.

So yes…

I’m curious.

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

Not just on Sunday.

Not just in our churches.

Not just when it benefits us.

But everywhere.

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

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Human-The Soundtrack Of My ICU Battle

Sometimes God speaks through a sermon.

Sometimes through Scripture.

Sometimes through another person.

And sometimes… He speaks through a piano.

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

The timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

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

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

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

Over and over.

And over again.

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

Just music.

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

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

It ministered to me.

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

And something else happened that I didn’t expect.

It touched the people who walked through that ICU door.

Doctors.

Nurses.

Hospital staff.

Family.

Friends.

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

The music became part of the story.

Part of the battle.

Part of the healing.

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

Not because the album saved me.

God did.

Not because music performed a miracle.

God did.

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

God carried me.

Today, I’m home.

I’m recovering.

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

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

All praise, honor and glory belong to God.

He never left my side.

Not in the ICU.

Not in the darkest moments.

Not when things looked impossible.

Not when I was fighting for my life.

And not now that I’m home.

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

And I’m incredibly thankful.

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

Especially Human.

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

For me, Human found me in an ICU room.

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

They will always remind me of a battle I survived…

A God who never abandoned me…

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

I’m home.

I’m still standing.

I’m still fighting.

I’m still overcoming.

And most importantly…

God is still writing my story.

May you have a beautiful, peaceful and blessed day.

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

You are not alone.

Keep fighting.

Keep believing.

Keep overcoming.

And never forget who is carrying you through the battle.

Jesus.

~OC

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