Tag: Grateful

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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The Day Before

SEPTEMBER 10, 2001.

Twenty-five years ago today, America went to bed believing tomorrow would look pretty much like today.

People went to work.

Parents kissed their children goodbye.

Kids went to school.

Planes crossed the skies.

People walked through airports without knowing that the world they knew was about to change forever.

Businesses opened.

Restaurants served dinner.

Families laughed around kitchen tables.

Friends talked about ordinary things.

Sports were played.

Life happened.

And nobody knew.

Nobody woke up that morning thinking, “This is the last normal day America will ever have.”

Nobody went to sleep thinking, “Tomorrow, thousands of families will receive the worst phone call of their lives.”

Nobody knew that the next morning would bring images that would forever be burned into our memories.

Nobody knew that the words September 11th would become more than a date on a calendar.

It would become a scar.

A memorial.

A reminder.

A day we would never forget.

That is what makes September 10th so haunting.

It was ordinary.

And sometimes we don’t realize how precious ordinary is until ordinary is gone.

So today, September 10, 2026, let’s remember something:

Don’t take today for granted.

Call the person you’ve been meaning to call.

Hug your spouse.

Tell your children you love them.

Forgive somebody.

Put down the phone and look someone in the eyes.

Thank God for another morning.

Because none of us are promised tomorrow.

Tomorrow, we will remember September 11th.

But today, let’s remember September 10th.

The last ordinary day.

The day America didn’t know.

The day thousands of people went about their lives completely unaware that history was waiting just beyond midnight.

Cherish today.

Love deeply.

Forgive quickly.

Live purposefully.

And never forget how quickly an ordinary day can become a moment that changes everything.

🇺🇸 God bless America.

🇺🇸 Never forget.

9/10/2001 — The day before. ~OC

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The Valley’s

The valley doesn’t get to name you.
The valley doesn’t get to break you.
The valley doesn’t get to bury you.

YOU ARE COMING THROUGH!

Because the Shepherd is with you in the darkness, beside you in the battle, and ahead of you in the victory.

SO GET UP!
LIFT YOUR HEAD!
TAKE THE NEXT STEP!

THE DEVIL DIDN’T WRITE YOUR STORY.
YOUR CIRCUMSTANCES DON’T WRITE YOUR STORY.
THE VALLEY DOESN’T WRITE YOUR STORY.

JESUS DOES!

And if the Shepherd says KEEP WALKING—THEN KEEP WALKING!

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. ~ Psalm 23:4

Did you hear that?

THOUGH I WALK THROUGH.

Not stay in.

Not die in.

WALK THROUGH!

YOU’RE NOT GOING TO DIE IN THE VALLEY.
YOU’RE GOING TO WALK THROUGH IT!

Because the God who brought you this far will not abandon you now.

THE SHEPHERD IS STILL WITH YOU.
AND THAT CHANGES EVERYTHING.

So lift your head.
Strengthen your faith.
Take the next step.

THE VALLEY IS NOT THE END OF YOUR STORY.
THE SHEPHERD IS LEADING YOU THROUGH!

NOW… KEEP WALKING! ~OC

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After the Amen

What happens after I say Amen?

Because the truth is, sometimes the pain is still there.

The diagnosis doesn’t disappear.
The bill is still sitting on the table.
The relationship is still broken.
The grief is still heavy.
The questions are still unanswered.
And sometimes, I still wake up tired of fighting.

Amen doesn’t mean everything suddenly gets easy.

Sometimes faith looks like saying,
“Jesus, I still don’t understand… but I’m still here.”

Sometimes hope looks like getting out of bed when your heart doesn’t want to.

Sometimes courage looks like taking one more step when you have no idea how many steps are left.

And sometimes the greatest miracle isn’t that God immediately changes the circumstance…

It’s that He changes something inside of you while you’re walking through it.

I’ve learned that real faith isn’t pretending everything is okay.

Real faith says:

“This hurts.”
“I’m scared.”
“I’m tired.”
“I don’t have all the answers.”
“But Jesus, I’m not letting go of You.”

That’s honesty.

That’s faith without the religious mask.

That’s hope that has been tested in the fire and still refuses to die.

So when I say Amen, I’m not saying the battle is over.

I’m saying:

Jesus, I trust You in the battle.

I’m going to keep walking.
Keep believing.
Keep praying.
Keep loving.
Keep getting back up.

Because my circumstances may tell me “it’s over,” but Jesus still gets the final word.

And if all I can do today is take one more step…

Then one more step is enough.

Tomorrow can take care of tomorrow.

Today, I’m choosing Jesus.

After I say Amen, I’m going to live like I believe the God I just prayed to is still walking with me.

Because He is.

Amen

~OC

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Be The Calm

Today’s a new day!

There is enough chaos in this world without us adding to it.

Enough anger.
Enough outrage.
Enough arguing.
Enough division.
Enough people reacting before they ever stop to think.

And sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do isn’t to speak louder.

It’s to stay calm.

When everyone else is losing their minds, be the person who brings peace.

When everyone else is reacting, be the person who pauses.

When everyone else is throwing gasoline on the fire, be the person who refuses to pick up the match.

When everyone else is looking for someone to blame, be the person willing to extend grace.

Because as followers of Jesus, we were never called to mirror the chaos around us.

We were called to carry something different.

Jesus didn’t promise us a life without storms.

He promised us His presence in the middle of them.

Think about Jesus asleep in the boat while the disciples were terrified by the storm. The waves were crashing. Fear had taken over. Everyone was panicking.

And Jesus got up and spoke to the storm:

“Peace! Be still!”

Maybe sometimes the miracle God wants to work through us isn’t calming the storm around us.

Maybe it’s teaching us how to remain calm while we’re standing in it.

You don’t have to answer every accusation.

You don’t have to win every argument.

You don’t have to respond to every criticism.

You don’t have to match someone else’s anger.

You don’t have to become bitter because someone else is bitter.

And you certainly don’t have to join the storm just because everyone else is standing in the rain.

Be different.

Be the calm.

Be the peace.

Be the person who walks into a chaotic room and changes the atmosphere—not because you have all the answers, but because you know the One who does.

The world doesn’t need more people adding to the noise.

It needs people who carry peace.

People who know when to speak and when to remain silent.

People who choose grace when anger would be easier.

People who choose forgiveness when bitterness feels justified.

People who refuse to let the storm outside determine the condition of their heart inside.

So today, before you react, pause.

Before you respond, pray.

Before you speak, ask yourself whether your words will bring healing or simply add to the storm.

You may not be able to control the storm.

But with God’s help, you can control whether you become part of it.

Don’t join the storm.

Be the calm in the middle of it.

And maybe, just maybe, someone who is drowning in the storm will find their way to Jesus because they saw His peace living inside of you. ~OC

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