Before We Speak

Today’s a new day! 

In a world overflowing with criticism, outrage, and division, followers of Jesus are called to respond differently. It is easy to point out someone’s failures. It is easy to condemn, shame, or speak harshly when people fall short. But Christ never called His people to become professional judges of broken humanity. He called us to become carriers of grace, truth, and prayer. Before we rush to criticize someone’s life, we should first fall to our knees and pray for their heart. Before we speak words of condemnation, we should ask God to move in their life the same way He once moved in ours.

Every person you see fighting battles, making mistakes, or wandering far from God is still someone deeply loved by the Creator. Many people are carrying wounds nobody knows about. Some are drowning in fear, addiction, loneliness, bitterness, or shame. They do not need believers throwing stones from a distance; they need people willing to intercede for them with compassion. Jesus showed us what mercy looks like. Even while hanging on the cross, He prayed, “Father, forgive them.” If the Son of God responded to hatred with prayer and forgiveness, how much more should we?

Pray more than you judge. Pray more than you condemn. Pray for your family members who seem far from God. Pray for those who hurt you. Pray for those trapped in sin. Pray for those who mock your faith. Prayer has the power to soften hardened hearts, restore broken lives, and bring people into an encounter with Jesus that no argument ever could. Condemnation pushes people further into darkness, but prayer invites the light of God into impossible situations.

The Church shines brightest when it reflects the heart of Christ. Truth matters, but truth without love becomes noise. We are called to stand for righteousness while still extending mercy to people who desperately need hope. None of us were saved because we were perfect; we were saved because Jesus loved us in the middle of our brokenness. May we become believers known not for harsh judgment, but for powerful prayers, compassionate hearts, and a relentless desire to see people redeemed by the grace of God. ~OC

Haunted By Regret

Today’s a new day! 

Christians are not called to live lives haunted by regret. In Christ, you are not a patched-up version of who you used to be—you are a brand new creation. The old you is gone, not hidden, not waiting to resurface, but fully replaced by the transforming power of God’s grace. Too often, we allow our past mistakes, failures, and pain to whisper lies into our present, trying to convince us that we are still bound to who we were. But the truth stands firm: your past has been erased by the King of kings. What He has forgiven, He has removed. What He has redeemed, He has restored. You are no longer defined by what you’ve done—you are defined by who He says you are.

Walking in that truth means choosing victory over remembrance of defeat. It means refusing to sit in chapters that God has already closed. When you continually revisit your past, you risk giving it power it no longer holds. Instead, God invites you to step forward into the life He has prepared for you—a life filled with purpose, hope, and new beginnings. He has amazing plans for your life, plans that cannot be fulfilled if you remain anchored in yesterday. So stop re-reading those old pages. Let them remain in the past where they belong. Today is a fresh page, and tomorrow is an unwritten chapter. Walk boldly in your new identity, dwell fully in His promises, and start writing a story marked not by regret, but by redemption, victory, and the unshakable faithfulness of God. ~OC

Front Porch Conversations

Today’s a new day! 

When I was growing up, some of the richest moments in life didn’t come from big events or expensive experiences—they came from sitting still and listening. We’d gather around grandparents, older relatives, or even a neighbor leaning back in a worn-out chair, and just soak in their stories. There was something sacred about it. Their voices carried history, wisdom, humor, and lessons you couldn’t learn from a screen. I remember asking questions—not because I had to, but because I wanted to understand where they had been, what they had seen, and how they had made it through life. Those conversations shaped me more than I realized at the time.

These days, that kind of connection feels harder to find. I see young people constantly pulled into their phones, measuring life through likes, shares, and fleeting moments of attention. At the same time, I see many older folks growing frustrated, shaking their heads, and criticizing the very generation they could be pouring into. Somewhere along the way, we stopped meeting in the middle. We traded front porch conversations for comment sections, and real laughter for digital noise. And in doing so, we lost something deeply human.

But it doesn’t have to stay that way. If we truly want a better country, a stronger community, and a more connected world, it starts small—right in our neighborhoods. It looks like putting the phone down, walking outside after dinner, and pulling up a chair in someone’s yard. It looks like asking questions again and taking the time to listen. It looks like older generations choosing to share rather than complain, and younger generations choosing curiosity over distraction. Real life happens in those moments—in the stories, the laughter, the silence between words.

Maybe the answer isn’t complicated at all. Maybe it’s as simple as showing up, being present, and remembering that every person has a story worth hearing. If we can get back to that—back to sharing life instead of scrolling past it—we might just rediscover the kind of connection that can change not only our communities, but the world around us. ~OC

A Love Connection

Today’s a new day! 

Yesterday, Laura and I drove up to North Florida. If you have lived in Florida or parts of the South, you know what time of season it is. Yes, it’s love bug season. Those little insects can be a nuisance, but what if we looked at these annoying little bugs a little closer. Maybe there is a lesson to be learned. 

Every year in parts of the South, love bugs show up in swarms—small, unassuming insects that spend much of their short lives attached to one another. They’re not flashy or impressive, and to most people they’re just a seasonal nuisance. But if you pause long enough to notice, there’s something quietly symbolic about them. Love bugs are almost always seen in pairs, joined together, moving as one. In a simple, created way, they reflect a picture of connection, persistence, and a kind of devoted closeness that’s hard to ignore.

That image can point us to something far deeper—the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The Gospel tells the story of a God who didn’t remain distant, but chose to draw near to us, to bind Himself to humanity through Jesus. Where love bugs cling together for a season, Jesus stepped into our world and held fast to us even through suffering, rejection, and the cross. Scripture reminds us that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ—not failure, not pain, not even death. That’s a far stronger bond than anything we see in nature.

There’s also something humbling about love bugs. They don’t try to stand out or make a name for themselves—they simply live out what they were created to do. In the same way, the Gospel calls us to a life not centered on self-promotion, but on abiding in Christ and walking in love. Jesus said that people would recognize His followers by their love, not by their status or accomplishments. When we remain “connected” to Him, like branches to a vine, our lives begin to reflect His grace, patience, and mercy to those around us.

So the next time you see those tiny insects paired together, maybe it’s more than just a seasonal inconvenience. Maybe it’s a small reminder of a greater truth: that we were created for connection—first with God, and then with one another. And through the Gospel, Jesus has made a way for that connection to be restored, secured, and sustained forever. ~OC

Not A Coincidence

Today’s a new day!

There are moments in life when you look back and wonder how you made it through. The nights that felt endless, the heartbreak that cut deeper than words, the battles you thought would surely take you out—but somehow, you’re still here. It’s easy to chalk it up to luck, coincidence, or sheer willpower. But the truth runs deeper than that. You survived everything that was meant to destroy you, and that’s not a coincidence—that was Jesus. In the middle of the chaos, when you couldn’t see a way forward, He was already making one. When you were too weak to stand, He was carrying you. Even when you didn’t recognize His hand, His presence never left your side.

Jesus doesn’t just show up in the good moments; He proves Himself in the fire. Every trial you walked through and came out of wasn’t just something you endured—it was something He brought you through. The pain didn’t have the final say. The enemy didn’t win. Your story didn’t end there. What was meant to break you became part of the testimony that now defines you. So when doubt tries to creep in and tell you that you’re alone or forgotten, remember your own history. Look at the evidence of grace all over your life. You’re still standing, still breathing, still moving forward—and that’s all the proof you need. Jesus has been faithful before, and He will be faithful again. ~OC

We Need More Mr. Rogers’

Today’s a new day!

There was something quietly powerful about Fred Rogers. He didn’t need to raise his voice to be heard, didn’t rely on insults to make a point, and never tried to win by tearing someone else down. In a world that often feels louder, harsher, and quicker to judge, his gentle way of speaking truth with kindness stands out more than ever. The neighborhoods he built on Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood weren’t just for children—they were a blueprint for how we might treat one another as adults. He reminded us that every person has value, that feelings are worth acknowledging, and that kindness is not weakness—it’s strength under control.

Contrast that with the culture we often see today, where bullying has been repackaged as confidence and cruelty gets disguised as honesty. Whether it shows up in schools, online spaces, or even public leadership, the tone can feel more like a battleground than a community. But the truth is, tearing people down has never built anything lasting. The world doesn’t need more voices shouting over each other—it needs more people willing to listen, to care, and to choose empathy over ego. Imagine what would happen if we measured success not by how many people we outshine, but by how many we lift up.

Maybe the call is simpler than we think. Be a little more patient. Speak a little more gently. Choose to understand before reacting. Those aren’t outdated ideals—they’re desperately needed ones. The legacy of Fred Rogers isn’t just something to admire from a distance; it’s something to live out in small, daily decisions. Because in the end, the world changes not through louder arguments, but through quieter acts of love. ~OC

Today’s Prayer (English Version)

Dear Jesus, I begin my day with You. Use me to bring encouragement to everyone I encounter. May my words and actions reflect Your love, wisdom, and compassion in all that I do. Give me strength to be kind, even to those I disagree with, and help me respond with grace instead of pride. May judgment not touch my heart, mind, or lips, but instead fill me with understanding and peace. Use me this day, Oh Lord, as a vessel of Your light and goodness. Guide my steps, order my thoughts, and let everything I do bring glory to You. Amen.

A Prayer To Live Out What We Profess

Dear Jesus, 

We speak Your name easily,
but too often we resist Your way.

You told us to love our enemies,
yet we hold on to anger.
You told us to forgive,
yet we keep score.
You told us to serve the least,
yet we chase comfort and recognition.

Forgive us for the gap between our words and our lives.
Forgive us for using faith as identity instead of obedience.
Forgive us for hearing Your teachings
and admiring them,
but not doing them.

Give us courage to take You seriously.
Not just in what we believe,
but in how we live, speak, spend, and love.

Break our pride when it keeps us from humility.
Interrupt our routines when they ignore the hurting.
Convict us when we justify what You clearly commanded.

Teach us to love when it’s inconvenient.
To give when it costs us.
To forgive when it feels impossible.
To choose truth over comfort,
and mercy over being right.

Make us people who reflect You—not just in church,
but in our homes, our work, our relationships, and our thoughts.

Let our lives become living prayers,
where Your words are not just spoken,
but seen.

We don’t want to only call You Lord—
we want to follow You as Lord

Change us, challenge us, and lead us.

We pray all of this in the powerful and matchless name of Jesus. Amen

Through The Eyes Of A Thief

The sky darkens in a way I’ve never seen before, though I’ve spent my life in the shadows. I hang here, condemned, my body wracked with pain, my past heavier than the crossbeam upon my shoulders. I deserve this, I know it. Every selfish choice, every hardened moment has led me to this hill. Beside me, another man curses, demanding rescue, demanding proof. But I have no demands left—only the bitter clarity that comes when there is nothing left to lose. And then I look at Him.

There is something different about the man in the middle. He does not spit back insults. He does not fight for breath with rage, but with mercy. I hear Him pray—not for Himself, but for those who have nailed Him here. “Father, forgive them.” Forgive them? In that moment, the weight of my own guilt presses deeper, yet strangely, hope flickers where despair once lived. If He can ask forgiveness for them, could there be mercy even for me?

With what strength I have left, I speak—not to mock, but to confess. I deserve this. He does not. And then, with a trembling voice, I ask the unthinkable: “Remember me.” Not save me from this cross, not erase my past—but remember me. It is a small plea from a broken man. Yet His reply is immediate, certain, and filled with a grace I have never known: “Today, you will be with me in paradise.” In the shadow of death, I find life. On a cross meant for punishment, I receive a promise.

As the darkness deepens, fear loosens its grip. My circumstances have not changed, but everything else has. The man beside me is not just another condemned soul—He is a King whose kingdom begins where mine ends. And somehow, by His mercy, I am invited in. This is Good Friday through my eyes: not the end of a life, but the beginning of eternity. ~OC

Holy Week

Holy Week and Easter are at the very heart of the Christian faith, and understanding them can offer a meaningful glimpse into what Christians believe about love, sacrifice, and hope. Holy Week begins with Palm Sunday, recalling Jesus’ arrival in Jerusalem, and moves through deeply significant moments like the Last Supper—where He shared a final meal with His disciples—and Good Friday, the day Christians remember His crucifixion. To a non-Christian, this might seem like a somber sequence of events, but for believers, it represents something profound: the idea that God chose to enter into human suffering and injustice rather than remain distant from it.

Easter, which follows, is the celebration of Jesus’ resurrection from the dead. This is not just a symbolic moment in Christianity—it is the foundation of Christian faith. As Christians we believe that through His resurrection, Jesus conquered sin and death, opening the door to forgiveness and new life for all people. Even if you don’t share that belief, the message behind Easter can still resonate: that renewal is possible, that love can overcome hatred, and that even in the darkest moments, there is the potential for transformation. For many, Holy Week and Easter are not only religious observances but also an invitation to reflect on themes of grace, redemption, and the possibility of a fresh start. ~OC

You can check out the Spoken Word version of this post at my YouTube channel Todd E.Shoemaker.

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