Tag: love

Would Jesus Do This?

STOP SCROLLING.

I have some questions for the Church and the Christian Community.

Would Jesus separate families from each other?

Would Jesus force children off food assistance or healthcare while they are already struggling to survive?

Would Jesus disrespect people, call them names, demean them, and then claim it was all being done in His name?

Would Jesus terrorize an immigrant who is working hard to provide for their family?

Would Jesus use Scripture as a weapon to justify hatred?

Would Jesus turn His back on His neighbor because they were different, poor, undocumented, politically opposed, addicted, broken, or simply didn’t look like us?

When I read Scripture, study the life of Jesus, and look at the way He treated people, I keep coming back to the same answer:

NO.

No.

No.

No.

Jesus touched the untouchable.

Jesus welcomed the rejected.

Jesus fed the hungry.

Jesus defended the vulnerable.

Jesus showed compassion to the hurting.

Jesus loved His enemies.

Jesus commanded us to love our neighbors.

Jesus didn’t tell us to find reasons to hate people.

He told us to love God and love our neighbor.

And here’s the uncomfortable part:

We don’t get to put Jesus’ name on something simply because we believe we’re right.

If our politics make us cruel, something is wrong.

If our theology makes us hateful, something is wrong.

If our Christianity makes us dehumanize people, something is wrong.

If we’re screaming about protecting Christianity while refusing to show the love, mercy, compassion, grace, and truth of Christ…

we may be defending a religion while completely missing Jesus.

I’m not asking you to agree with me politically.

I’m asking something much more important:

Does the way we treat people look like Jesus?

Because one day, we’re not going to stand before Jesus and explain what our political party believed.

We’re not going to stand before Him and defend our favorite politician.

We’re going to stand before HIM.

So before we say, “I’m doing this in Jesus’ name,” maybe we should stop and ask:

“Jesus, would You do this?”

Because if the answer is no…

then don’t put His name on it.

BE THE HANDS.
BE THE FEET.
BE THE LOVE.
BE THE TRUTH.
BE THE LIGHT.

And above everything else—

BE LIKE JESUS.

That’s the Christianity this world desperately needs. ~OC

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A Letter to God

Dear God,

I look at this world and my heart breaks.

There is too much hatred.
Too much division.
Too much violence.
Too much fear.
Too many people hurting while the rest of us keep scrolling.

So, God, don’t just change the world around me. Change Me.

Give me eyes to see the people everyone else overlooks.

Give me ears to hear the cries nobody wants to hear.

Give me courage to stand up when staying silent is easier.

Give me compassion for the broken.

Give me grace for the difficult.

Give me strength to love people I don’t understand.

And God…

Don’t let me just talk about Jesus.

Let people SEE Jesus in me.

When someone is hungry—let me feed them.

When someone is hurting—let me sit with them.

When someone is lonely—let me show up.

When someone is afraid—let me bring hope.

When someone is pushed aside—let me stand beside them.

When someone has fallen—let me reach down and help them back up.

God, make me Your hands.
Make me Your feet.
Make me Your voice.
Make me Your love in action.

Because this world doesn’t need another Christian yelling about Jesus.

This world needs Christians who will LIVE like Jesus.

WAKE UP, CHURCH.

Stop asking God to send somebody else.

Maybe YOU are the somebody.

Maybe the miracle someone is praying for is supposed to walk through your front door.

Maybe the answer to someone’s prayer has your hands.

Maybe the encouragement they desperately need has your voice.

Maybe the love they’ve been missing has your name attached to it.

So, Lord…

SEND ME.

I’ll go.

I’ll love.

I’ll serve.

I’ll stand.

I’ll get into the Good Trouble that love requires.

I’ll keep showing up.

And I’ll keep pointing people back to You.

Not my name.
Not my platform.
Not my glory.

YOURS.

Because if I claim to follow Jesus…

then I better be willing to walk where Jesus walked.

Jesus, make me Your hands and feet.

AMEN. 

~OC

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Twenty-Five Years Later…We Remember

Today marks 25 years since September 11, 2001.

Twenty-five years.

And yet for those who lived through that day, it can still feel like yesterday.

We remember where we were.

We remember watching the first plane hit.

Then the second.

We remember the towers falling.

We remember the Pentagon.

We remember Flight 93.

We remember the confusion.

The fear.

The unanswered questions.

The phone calls.

The tears.

And the overwhelming realization that America had changed forever.

Before 9/11, we worried about ordinary things.

After 9/11, we looked at the sky differently.

We looked at airports differently.

We looked at strangers differently.

We hugged our families a little tighter.

We prayed a little harder.

And for a brief moment, something happened in America that we desperately need to remember.

We came together.

Political parties didn’t matter as much.

Arguments didn’t matter as much.

Our differences didn’t matter as much.

We were Americans.

We stood together.

We mourned together.

We prayed together.

We served together.

And we discovered an incredible truth:

When evil tries to divide us, love can still bring us together.

But 9/11 also taught us something else.

Freedom isn’t free.

Peace isn’t guaranteed.

Evil is real.

Life is fragile.

And tomorrow is never promised.

We learned that heroes don’t always wear uniforms.

Some ran toward the burning buildings while everyone else was running away.

Firefighters.

Police officers.

Paramedics.

First Responders.

Military personnel.

Flight attendants.

Ordinary citizens who made extraordinary choices.

Some gave their lives trying to save complete strangers.

That is courage.

Twenty-five years later, we should ask ourselves:

What have we learned?

Have we learned to love our neighbors?

Have we learned to appreciate the people sitting beside us?

Have we learned that hatred only creates more hatred?

Have we learned that our disagreements don’t have to make us enemies?

Have we learned that our time with the people we love is precious?

Have we learned that America is stronger when we stand together rather than tear one another apart?

Because here’s the uncomfortable truth:

We cannot change what happened on September 11, 2001.

But we can decide what September 11, 2001 will continue to teach us.

We can remember the innocent lives stolen.

We can honor the heroes who ran toward danger.

We can pray for the families who still carry empty chairs at their tables.

We can remember the survivors.

We can remember those who spent years battling the physical and emotional consequences of that day.

And we can refuse to allow hatred, division, bitterness and political tribalism to destroy the unity we discovered in the ashes.

Twenty-five years later, don’t just remember the buildings that fell.

Remember the people.

Remember the sacrifice.

Remember the courage.

Remember the unity.

Remember the prayers.

Remember the heroes.

Remember how quickly life can change.

And most importantly…

REMEMBER THAT WE ARE STILL RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT WE DO WITH THE LIFE WE HAVE BEEN GIVEN.

Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed.

The next breath isn’t guaranteed.

The next conversation isn’t guaranteed.

So call somebody.

Forgive somebody.

Hug your family.

Tell someone you love them.

Help somebody who is hurting.

Stand up for somebody who cannot stand for themselves.

And when the world tries to convince us that we have to hate one another because we disagree…

REFUSE.

We can remember September 11 without living in fear.

We can remember September 11 without surrendering to hatred.

We can remember September 11 by choosing courage over cowardice, love over hate, unity over division, and service over selfishness.

25 years later, we remember.

25 years later, we mourn.

25 years later, we honor.

25 years later, we still stand.

And may we never forget.

SEPTEMBER 11, 2001 — NEVER FORGET. 

God bless the families who lost loved ones.
God bless those who served.
God bless those who continue to carry the scars.
And God bless America. ~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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Do It All Again

TWENTY-SEVEN REASONS I WOULD MARRY LAURA ALL OVER AGAIN

Laura didn’t just marry me twenty-seven years ago. She married every version of me that came after that day.

She married the man who stood beside her on our wedding day, never knowing what the next 27 years would ask of us.

She didn’t know about the years of health battles that would follow.

She didn’t know about the diagnoses, the hospital rooms, the surgeries, the treatments, the frightening moments, the uncertainty, the tears, the prayers, or the nights when we wondered what tomorrow would look like.

She didn’t know there would be moments when life would completely change in ways neither of us could have imagined.

She didn’t know she’d sometimes have to watch the man she married struggle to do things he once took for granted.

She didn’t know there would be seasons when simply getting through the day would be an accomplishment.

She didn’t know how many times we’d have to trust God when we didn’t understand what He was doing.

But she stayed.

Not because it was easy.

Not because she had to.

Not because she had any guarantee that our story would be comfortable.

She stayed because she loved me.

And through 27 years, Laura has walked with me through some of the highest mountains and deepest valleys of my life.

She has seen me at my strongest.

She has seen me at my weakest.

She has seen the tears I didn’t want anyone else to see.

She has seen the fears I didn’t always know how to put into words.

She has watched me fight battles I never asked to fight.

And somehow, after all these years, she still reaches for my hand.

That kind of love is difficult to explain.

It’s not the kind of love you find in a greeting card.

It’s not the kind of love that only shows up when everything is beautiful.

It’s the kind of love that gets down in the trenches.

The kind that stays when the future is uncertain.

The kind that says, “We’re going to get through this together.”

And that’s why, on our 27th wedding anniversary, I have been thinking about one very simple question:

If I could go back to that day 27 years ago, knowing everything I know now, would I marry Laura again?

There isn’t even a question.

A thousand times yes.

Here are 27 reasons why I would marry my bride all over again:

1. Because she loved me before she ever knew what this journey would cost her.

2. Because she stayed when life got incredibly hard. She didn’t sign up for the health battles, hospital stays, disappointments, or uncertainty. But she stayed.

3. Because she has loved me at my strongest and at my weakest.

4. Because she has seen the parts of me that I don’t always like and somehow still chooses me.

5. Because she has never stopped believing there was more life ahead of us, even when I couldn’t see it myself.

6. Because she knows how to make me laugh when I need it most.

7. Because she has stood beside me through some of the darkest valleys of my life.

8. Because she has celebrated the mountaintops with me without forgetting what it took to get there.

9. Because she has taught me that love isn’t just something you say. It is something you do.

10. Because she has sacrificed more than I will ever be able to fully understand.

11. Because she has given me grace when I needed grace.

12. Because she has challenged me when I needed challenging.

13. Because she knows the man behind the public words, the posts, the music, and the ministry—and loves that man too.

14. Because she has walked beside me through seasons when neither of us knew what tomorrow would bring.

15. Because she has never required me to be perfect to be loved.

16. Because she has made our house a home.

17. Because she has reminded me that sometimes the greatest miracles aren’t dramatic. Sometimes they’re simply waking up beside the person you love for another day.

18. Because she has shared my crazy dreams—even the ones that probably sounded completely insane.

19. Because she has prayed with me, prayed for me, and carried things to God when I didn’t have the words.

20. Because she has loved me through changes I never expected my life to bring.

21. Because after 27 years, she is still the person I want beside me when something wonderful happens—and the person I want beside me when everything falls apart.

22. Because she has shown me that commitment means staying when staying isn’t easy.

23. Because she has given me memories I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

24. Because she has helped me become a better man—not by trying to change who I am, but by loving me enough to call me higher.

25. Because after everything we’ve walked through, I don’t just love her. I respect her, admire her, and thank God for her.

26. Because if I had the chance to live these 27 years again, I wouldn’t change the destination. I’d choose the same woman.

And…

27. Because she’s Laura.

She’s my bride.

My best friend.

My partner.

My safe place.

The woman who has walked through fire with me.

The woman who has seen the broken pieces and stayed.

The woman who has laughed with me, cried with me, prayed with me, dreamed with me, and somehow continues to choose me.

Twenty-seven years ago, I stood beside her and made a promise.

Today, I would make that same promise again.

Laura, if I could go back to the beginning, knowing everything I know now, knowing how hard some of the roads would become, knowing how many tears we’d shed, knowing how many times we’d have to lean on God and on each other…

I WOULD STILL CHOOSE YOU.

Without hesitation.

Without reservation.

Without changing a thing.

And if God gives us another 27 years, I hope I get to spend every single one of them reminding you how incredibly grateful I am that you said “I do.”

Happy 27th Anniversary, my beautiful bride.

I married you 27 years ago.

I would marry you again today.

And if I had it to do all over again…

I’d find you.
I’d choose you.
I’d marry you.
All over again.

I love you, Laura.

Happy 27th Anniversary. ❤️

~OC

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Moral High Ground (Look In The Mirror)

Today’s a new day!

I’m going to say something that may make some Christians uncomfortable.

Maybe even angry.

But I believe we desperately need to hear it.

If we are going to engage a culture that is increasingly broken, divided, angry, confused, and seemingly hostile toward Christianity, we had better start by recognizing something very important:

We are sinners too.

Yes.

Us.

The people sitting in church on Sunday.

The people carrying Bibles.

The people posting Scripture on Facebook.

The people singing worship songs with our hands raised.

The people who know all the right Christian words.

We are sinners.

And if we forget that, we will eventually become the very kind of people Jesus warned us about.

Jesus told us about the danger of looking at the speck in someone else’s eye while ignoring the plank in our own.

And honestly?

The Church has become really good at finding specks.

We see the sin in somebody else’s life.

We see their political beliefs.

Their sexuality.

Their addiction.

Their language.

Their lifestyle.

Their mistakes.

Their failures.

Their past.

And we point.

And we judge.

And we condemn.

And then we wonder why they don’t want anything to do with Christianity.

Maybe we should ask ourselves a difficult question:

Have some people rejected Jesus—or have they rejected the version of Jesus they’ve seen in us?

That’s a question that hurts.

Because sometimes we have been so busy telling people how lost they are that we’ve forgotten to tell them how much Jesus loves them.

We’ve become more passionate about being right than being Christlike.

More passionate about winning arguments than winning souls.

More comfortable condemning people than sitting beside them in their pain.

And somewhere along the way, we’ve forgotten something incredibly important:

Jesus didn’t come for people who had their lives together.

He came for the broken.

The hurting.

The addicted.

The rejected.

The ashamed.

The lonely.

The prodigals.

The sinners.

People like us.

Look at the people Jesus surrounded Himself with.

They weren’t all polished.

They weren’t all respectable.

They weren’t all religious.

They weren’t all acceptable to the religious crowd.

And Jesus didn’t stand at a distance shouting, “Clean yourself up and then come see Me.”

He walked toward them.

He sat with them.

He touched them.

He listened to them.

He loved them.

And then He changed them.

That’s grace.

And here’s where this gets painfully personal:

I don’t need Jesus because I’m better than the people around me.

I need Jesus because I’m not.

I’ve fallen.

I’ve failed.

I’ve made mistakes.

I’ve had moments when my faith was weak.

I’ve had moments when fear was louder than faith.

I’ve had moments when I didn’t understand what God was doing.

I’ve had moments when I needed forgiveness.

I’ve needed grace.

And so have you.

That’s why I can’t stand on some imaginary moral high ground and look down on someone else.

Because when I look at the cross, I don’t see a platform that makes me superior.

I see a place where a broken sinner like me was rescued.

And maybe that’s what the Church needs to rediscover.

Humility.

Not compromise.

Not abandoning biblical truth.

Not pretending sin doesn’t matter.

But humility.

Because there is a massive difference between saying,

“You’re a sinner, and I’m better than you.”

and saying,

“You’re a sinner. I’m a sinner. But there’s a Savior who loves us both.”

One builds walls.

The other builds bridges.

One pushes people away.

The other opens a door.

One says, “Get your life together.”

The other says,

“Come as you are. Jesus isn’t finished with you yet.”

The world doesn’t need Christians who are perfect.

It needs Christians who are real.

People who can say:

“I don’t have all the answers.”

“I’ve struggled too.”

“I’ve cried too.”

“I’ve questioned too.”

“I’ve fallen too.”

“I’ve needed forgiveness too.”

“But I’ve discovered something.”

Jesus didn’t give up on me.

And if He didn’t give up on me, He isn’t going to give up on you.

That is the message we should be carrying into this culture.

Not hate.

Not arrogance.

Not condemnation.

Jesus.

Because at the end of the day, people don’t need another Christian yelling at them about how dark the world has become.

They need someone willing to walk into the darkness carrying a light.

They need someone willing to sit beside them when they’re hurting.

They need someone willing to love them before they agree with them.

They need someone willing to tell them the truth without making them feel worthless.

They need someone who remembers that Jesus died for them too.

So before we point our fingers at the culture…

Let’s look in the mirror.

Before we demand repentance from everyone else…

Let’s repent ourselves.

Before we ask God to change the world…

Let’s ask Him to change us.

Before we complain about how far America has fallen…

Let’s ask how far the Church has fallen from looking like Jesus.

Because perhaps revival won’t begin when the world finally starts acting like Christians.

Perhaps revival begins when Christians finally start acting like Jesus.

And maybe—just maybe—the greatest witness we can give this broken world isn’t telling people how bad they are.

Maybe it’s being honest enough to say:

“I’m broken too.”

“I’ve needed grace too.”

“I’ve needed Jesus too.”

“And I’m still standing—not because I’m perfect, but because He hasn’t let go of me.”

That’s the Gospel.

That’s grace.

That’s hope.

And that’s the message I want to carry.

So I’m not going to stand above you.

I’ll stand beside you.

I’m not going to pretend I’m better than you.

I’m going to remind you that we’re both desperately in need of Jesus.

And I’m not going to point my finger at you while pretending I don’t have my own scars.

I’ll show you mine.

Because maybe when you see that I’m broken too…

You’ll finally believe me when I tell you:

There is a Savior who still loves broken people.

There is grace for the sinner.

There is mercy for the mess.

There is forgiveness for the failure.

There is hope for the hopeless.

And there is still a cross standing in the middle of this broken world saying:

“You are not too far gone.”

So before we try to change the culture…

Let’s let Jesus change us.

Because the world isn’t looking for another group of people who claim to have it all together.

It’s looking for people who have been broken, redeemed, forgiven, and transformed by Jesus.

And maybe that’s exactly what the Church was supposed to be all along.

Not a museum for perfect people.

A hospital for sinners.

And I’m not ashamed to admit it:

I’m still a patient.

I still need Jesus.

Every. Single. Day.

And so do you.

Now go back and read that one more time.

Because this time…

don’t read it looking for someone else.

Read it looking in the mirror. ~OC

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Men Stand Up

MEN, WE NEED TO TALK.

Not about politics.

Not about sports.

Not about money.

Not about who is right and who is wrong.

We need to talk about what happened to the men of God.

Because somewhere along the way, too many of us became comfortable sitting in the church while our families, our neighborhoods, and our communities were crying out for men who would actually stand up and lead.

We have plenty of men who can talk.

Plenty who can argue.

Plenty who can criticize.

Plenty who can tell everyone else what they’re doing wrong.

But God isn’t looking for more men who can point fingers.

God is looking for men who will get on their knees.

Men who will pray.

Men who will serve.

Men who will sacrifice.

Men who will give.

Men who will love.

Men who will stand in the gap.

Men who will say, “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”

Paul wrote:

“Be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong. Let all that you do be done in love.” ~1 Corinthians 16:13-14

Read that again.

Be courageous.

Be strong.

But don’t miss the last part:

Do everything in love.

Because biblical manhood isn’t about domination.

It’s not about control.

It’s not about being the loudest voice in the room.

It’s not about demanding respect.

It’s about becoming the kind of man who looks like Jesus.

Jesus picked up a towel.

Jesus washed feet.

Jesus touched the untouchable.

Jesus welcomed the rejected.

Jesus fed the hungry.

Jesus defended the vulnerable.

Jesus wept with those who were hurting.

Jesus prayed.

Jesus served.

Jesus sacrificed.

And ultimately…

Jesus laid down His life.

So if we want to be men of God, maybe we should stop asking,

“Who is going to serve me?”

and start asking,

“Who can I serve?”

Maybe it’s time for us to put down our pride and pick up the towel.

Put down our excuses and pick up our Bibles.

Put down our anger and pick up our cross.

Put down our phones and look our children in the eyes.

Put down our criticism and start praying for the people we’re so quick to criticize.

Men, our families need us.

Our wives need husbands who pray.

Our children need fathers who are present.

Our sons need men who will show them that strength isn’t about how much power you have, but how much of yourself you’re willing to give away.

Our daughters need to see what a godly man looks like.

Our churches need men who don’t just occupy a chair on Sunday but carry the burden of the Kingdom Monday through Saturday.

Our communities need men who will stop driving past brokenness and start walking toward it.

There are people all around us who are hurting.

People battling addiction.

People drowning in loneliness.

People wondering if anybody cares.

People who haven’t stepped inside a church in years because somewhere along the way, Christians made them feel like they weren’t welcome.

Men, what if we became different?

What if we became the men who showed up?

What if we became the men who prayed?

What if we became the men who served without needing recognition?

What if we became the men who gave without expecting something in return?

What if we became the men who loved people who could never repay us?

What if we stopped trying to build our own kingdoms…

and started building His?

I’m praying for something bigger than another men’s conference.

Bigger than another Bible study.

Bigger than another church program.

I’m praying for revival in the hearts of men.

I want to see men so completely consumed by Jesus that their families can’t help but notice.

I want to see fathers praying over their children.

Husbands praying with their wives.

Men opening their Bibles before they open social media.

Men serving the homeless.

Men feeding the hungry.

Men visiting the sick.

Men mentoring young men who desperately need somebody to tell them,

“You matter. You’re loved. You were created for something greater.”

I want to see men walk into the darkest places carrying the light of Christ.

I want to see men who aren’t ashamed to worship.

Men who aren’t afraid to cry.

Men who aren’t afraid to say, “I don’t have it all together.”

Men who aren’t afraid to get on their knees and cry out,

“Jesus, change me before You use me.”

Because maybe that’s where revival begins.

Not with a crowd.

With a man.

One broken man surrendering.

One father praying.

One husband repenting.

One son coming home.

One man saying,

“Jesus, I am Yours.”

And then another man catches fire.

And another.

And another.

And suddenly…

THE FIRE SPREADS.

It moves through families.

Through churches.

Through neighborhoods.

Through communities.

Until an entire city begins to feel the presence of God.

Not because men became louder.

But because men became different.

Not because men demanded their rights.

But because men started laying down their lives.

Not because men conquered people.

But because men started loving people.

I want to see men set on fire for Jesus.

And I don’t mean a temporary emotional high.

I mean HOLY FIRE.

The kind of fire that changes the way we live.

The kind of fire that changes the way we speak.

The kind of fire that changes our marriages.

The kind of fire that changes our parenting.

The kind of fire that changes how we treat strangers.

The kind of fire that makes us uncomfortable when we’re sitting still while somebody else is hurting.

Men, I’m calling us higher.

Higher than comfort.

Higher than complacency.

Higher than excuses.

Higher than church-as-usual.

Higher than cultural Christianity.

I’m calling us to Jesus.

To surrender.

To sacrifice.

To service.

To prayer.

To courage.

To holiness.

To love.

Because our communities don’t need more men pretending to have all the answers.

They need men who know where to take their questions.

To the feet of Jesus.

So tonight, before you criticize another man…

pray for him.

Before you complain about your church…

serve it.

Before you complain about your community…

love it.

Before you tell the world what’s wrong with Christianity…

show them Jesus.

And before you demand that everyone else change…

get alone with God and ask Him to change you.

Because revival may be closer than we think.

Maybe God isn’t waiting for the perfect man.

Maybe He’s waiting for the surrendered man.

The available man.

The obedient man.

The man who will say:

“Here I am, Lord. Send me.”

So, men…

Are you willing?

Are you willing to lead when nobody applauds?

Are you willing to serve when nobody notices?

Are you willing to give when it costs you something?

Are you willing to pray when you’re tired?

Are you willing to love when it’s difficult?

Are you willing to forgive?

Are you willing to repent?

Are you willing to surrender your pride?

Are you willing to pick up your cross?

Are you willing to follow Jesus even when it costs you everything?

Because here’s the question I can’t get out of my head:

If your family became exactly like the Christian life you are living right now…

would you be proud of what they became?

Let that sit there for a minute.

Don’t scroll.

Don’t defend yourself.

Don’t think about the man sitting next to you.

Think about you.

Look in the mirror.

Look at your Bible.

Look at your family.

Look at your community.

Look at your life.

And ask yourself the question that may be the most important question a man can ever ask:

AM I REALLY THE MAN GOD HAS CALLED ME TO BE?

And if the answer is no…

Don’t run from that conviction.

Run toward Jesus.

Because He isn’t finished with you.

Men, let’s rise.

Let’s pray.

Let’s serve.

Let’s give.

Let’s love.

Let’s lead.

Let’s surrender.

Let’s become the men our families need, our churches need, our communities need—and most importantly, the men Jesus has called us to be.

One man.

One surrendered heart.

One family.

One church.

One neighborhood.

One city.

Until the fire spreads.

MEN, IT’S TIME.

Let’s set your city’s on fire—not with our anger, not with our politics, not with our pride…

but with the radical, reckless, transforming LOVE OF JESUS CHRIST.

In Jesus’ name, Amen. ~OC

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