Tag: love

Squeezing Life

Today’s a new day!

Living with multiple health issues has taught me something I never would have learned in a life without suffering:

Our time on this earth is far too precious to waste.

When your body reminds you every day that life is fragile, you begin to see things differently. You stop taking tomorrow for granted. You stop assuming there will always be another opportunity to call someone, hug someone, forgive someone, laugh with someone, or tell the people you love how much they mean to you.

You begin to understand that life isn’t measured only in years.

Sometimes it is measured in moments.

A conversation that makes you smile.

A sunset that takes your breath away.

A prayer whispered through tears.

A song that reminds you God is still near.

A hug from someone you love.

A meal shared around the table.

A memory made on an ordinary day that somehow becomes extraordinary because you were there to experience it.

My health journey has taken many things from me. There are things I once could do that I can no longer do. There are dreams that have had to change. There are days when simply getting through the day feels like an accomplishment.

But I’ve learned not to let what I’ve lost become the only story I tell.

Because God is still writing.

I may not understand every chapter, but I trust the Author.

I may have questions I cannot answer, but I can still have faith.

I may have limitations, but I am not without purpose.

And I may have scars, but those scars can become reminders of God’s faithfulness.

Living with illness has made me want to squeeze every bit of meaning, purpose, joy, gratitude, and hope out of the short time we have on this earth.

Not because I am afraid of dying.

But because I have learned to appreciate living.

I want to love people while they’re still here.

I want to make memories instead of waiting for the “perfect” moment.

I want to encourage somebody who feels forgotten.

I want to remind the broken that they are not useless.

I want to tell the person sitting in the darkness that morning is still coming.

I want my life—even with all its limitations—to point beyond me to Jesus.

Scripture reminds us:

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” — Psalm 90:12

Numbering our days doesn’t mean living in fear of the end.

It means learning to recognize the value of today.

Today is a beautiful gift.

This breath is a gift.

This conversation is a gift.

This person sitting beside you is a gift.

This opportunity to love, serve, forgive, 

encourage, worship, and make a difference is a gift.

We don’t know how many pages remain in our story.

So I’m not waiting until tomorrow to start living.

I’m not waiting until I’m healthy enough.

I’m not waiting until everything makes sense.

I’m not waiting until life becomes easier.

I’m choosing to live the life God has placed in front of me today.

Maybe that’s what being an overcomer really means.

It doesn’t mean we never struggle.

It doesn’t mean we aren’t afraid.

It doesn’t mean we don’t have bad days.

It means we refuse to let our circumstances have the final word.

We keep getting back up.

We keep believing.

We keep loving.

We keep hoping.

We keep looking toward Jesus.

And we keep squeezing every drop of meaning out of this beautiful, difficult, unpredictable gift called life.

Because one day, when this earthly journey is finished, I don’t want to look back and realize I spent all my time waiting for life to begin.

I want to know that I lived.

I loved deeply.

I laughed often.

I made memories.

I recognized and encouraged people.

I served Jesus.

I held onto hope.

And even in the hardest seasons, I trusted God enough to keep moving forward.

Life may be shorter than we think.

So don’t wait to tell someone you love them.

Don’t wait to make the memory.

Don’t wait to forgive.

Don’t wait to reach out.

Don’t wait to live.

Squeeze every drop of meaning, purpose, love, and hope out of this day.

Tomorrow belongs to God.

But today is a gift.

And I intend to unwrap it. ~OC

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Don’t Live With Regrets

Today’s a new day!

I’ve often thought about something that feels both heartbreaking and unnecessary.

When I die, I don’t want people to suddenly tell the world how much I meant to them.

I don’t want long social media posts about the memories we never made.

I don’t want flowers that arrive too late, or words spoken over a casket that could have been shared over a glass of ice tea.

I want the conversation while I’m still here.

I want the phone call.

I want the text that says, “I’m thinking about you.”

I want the laughter around the dinner table, the long conversations on the porch, the road trips, the prayers together, and the ordinary moments that somehow become extraordinary simply because they were shared with someone we love.

Life is incredibly fragile.

As someone who has spent years walking through chronic illness, I’ve been reminded again and again that tomorrow is never guaranteed. We all assume there will be another birthday, another holiday, another chance to reconnect. But sometimes, that chance never comes.

One of the greatest tragedies isn’t death itself.

It’s the conversations we never had.

The forgiveness we never offered.

The hugs we never gave.

The visits we kept putting off.

The words, “I love you,” that remained trapped behind pride, busyness, or the illusion that there would always be more time.

Don’t wait.

If someone comes to your mind today, maybe that’s not an accident.

Call them.

Invite them to lunch.

Take the drive.

Write the letter.

Pray with them.

Make the memory now instead of wishing you had after they’re gone.

At the end of our lives, very few people regret spending too much time with those they love.

They regret the opposite.

They regret the vacations they postponed, the friendships they neglected, the family gatherings they skipped, and the relationships they allowed to slowly drift away.

Love isn’t measured by what we say after someone dies.

Love is measured by how we show up while they’re still living.

Jesus demonstrated this beautifully. He walked with people, ate with them, listened to them, laughed with them, wept beside them, and loved them in the everyday moments of life. He didn’t wait until it was too late to express His love.

Maybe today is your reminder.

Don’t let another day slip by.

Don’t assume they’ll always be there.

Don’t allow pride to steal another year.

Reach out.

Create the memories.

Take the picture.

Share the meal.

Say the words.

One day, the opportunity will pass.

Live in such a way that when the day of goodbye finally comes, your heart is filled with gratitude instead of regret—not because everything was perfect, but because you chose to love while there was still time.

Don’t wait until a funeral to celebrate someone’s life.

Celebrate them today. ~OC

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Jesus Over Tribalism

I have come to a place in my faith where I would rather upset my fellow Christian community by loving the people Jesus called us to love than fit comfortably among Christians united by who they condemn.

That may not always make me popular.

It may not earn me invitations.

It may make some people question my theology, my priorities, or even my faith.

But I can live with that.

Because when I look at Jesus, I don’t see someone building His ministry around determining who was worthy of love.

I see Him moving toward the hurting.

Toward the rejected.

Toward the outcast.

Toward sinners.

Toward people religious society had already written off.

Jesus touched the untouchable.

He ate with people others avoided.

He spoke with people others ignored.

He defended people others condemned.

He showed mercy when others demanded judgment.

And He commanded us to love our neighbors—not just the neighbors who look like us, vote like us, worship like us, think like us, or agree with us.

Love is not supposed to be selective.

If my Christianity requires me to hate someone in order to prove that I belong to the right group, then I need to take another long look at Jesus.

I don’t want to be part of a Christian community that is united primarily by the people it opposes.

I want to be part of a Church united by the One it follows.

Jesus.

I would rather be criticized for loving too many people than praised for condemning too many.

I would rather be accused of having too much compassion than too little.

I would rather stand beside someone who is hurting and remind them that they are loved than stand at a distance and remind them of everything they have done wrong.

That doesn’t mean truth doesn’t matter.

It does.

But Jesus never separated truth from love.

Grace and truth walked together.

So if loving like Jesus makes me uncomfortable to some Christians, I’ll accept the discomfort.

If compassion makes me controversial, so be it.

If welcoming the hurting makes some people question me, I’ll answer with the example of Christ.

Because at the end of the day, I don’t want to be known as someone who was really good at identifying who was wrong.

I want to be known as someone who loved people well.

I want people to encounter Jesus when they encounter me.

Not my politics.

Not my anger.

Not my judgment.

Not my tribe.

Jesus.

There are already enough Christians standing together because of who they condemn.

I want to stand with Christians who are willing to love because of who Jesus is.

So yes…

I would rather upset my fellow Christians by loving the people Jesus called us to love than fit comfortably among Christians united by who they choose to condemn.

Because I would rather be uncomfortable with people while following Jesus…

than comfortable with people while becoming unlike Him.

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

Love isn’t weakness.

Love isn’t compromise.

Love isn’t abandoning truth.

Love is one of the clearest ways we show the world that we belong to Jesus. ~OC

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Living

Today’s a new day!

I know what it’s like to be dying.

I know what it feels like to look at your life and realize that tomorrow is never promised. I know what it’s like to spend time in hospital rooms, sit across from doctors, hear words that change the way you look at the future, and wonder how much time you have left.

I know what it’s like to come face-to-face with my own mortality.

But here’s the thing:

I don’t spend much time thinking about death.

I know it’s there.

I know one day my earthly journey will come to an end. I don’t deny it. I don’t run from it. And because of my faith, I don’t fear what comes after this life.

But I’m not going to spend the days I’ve been given worrying about the day they run out.

I’ve got too much living to do.

I’ve got too many memories to make.

Too many conversations to have.

Too many sunsets to watch.

Too many laughs to share.

Too many hugs to give.

Too many stories still waiting to be told.

Too many people I love who still need to hear, “I love you.”

There are places I still want to see, songs I still want to write, prayers I still want to pray, and moments I still want to experience.

There are memories I haven’t made yet with the people I love.

So I’m going to make them.

I’m going to laugh when I can.

I’m going to cry when I need to.

I’m going to celebrate the ordinary moments because I’ve learned that ordinary moments are often the extraordinary ones we remember most.

I’m going to sit a little longer at the dinner table.

I’m going to call the friend I’ve been meaning to call.

I’m going to tell people what they mean to me while they’re still here—and while I’m still here.

I’m going to stop saving life for someday.

Because someday isn’t guaranteed.

Today is.

Living with serious health challenges has taught me something I could never have learned from a textbook:

Life isn’t measured only by how many years we have.

It’s measured by what we do with the years we’ve been given.

Death may be somewhere down the road, but I’m not going to stand on the road staring at it.

I’m going to keep walking.

I’m going to keep loving.

I’m going to keep believing.

I’m going to keep making memories.

I’m going to keep squeezing every drop of meaning, purpose, joy, and hope out of this crazy, beautiful life.

And when my time finally comes, I don’t want to look back and wish I had lived more.

I want to be able to say:

I lived.

I loved deeply.

I laughed loudly.

I made memories.

I encouraged people.

I shared my faith.

I fought through the hard days.

I celebrated the good ones.

I didn’t waste my life being afraid of losing it.

I chose to live it.

Because death may be inevitable.

But today is a gift.

And I’m not wasting the gift.

I’ve got too much living to do.

Too much loving to do.

Too many memories to make.

Too much purpose left to pursue.

And as long as God gives me breath…

I’m going to fully embrace it. ~OC

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When the Church Chose Power Over the Cross

There is a temptation that has followed the Church since its earliest days.

It is the temptation to believe that changing the world requires political power more than spiritual power.

It whispers that if we can simply gain enough influence, enough seats at the table, enough cultural dominance, then God’s Kingdom will flourish.

But Jesus never asked His followers to seek power.

He asked them to pick up a cross.

Those are two very different paths.

The Way of the Cross

Jesus entered Jerusalem not on a warhorse, but on a donkey.

He wore no crown of gold.

He commanded no army.

He never sought political office.

Instead, He humbled Himself, served the least, loved His enemies, and willingly laid down His life.

When Peter drew his sword to defend Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus rebuked him.

“Put your sword back in its place.”

The Kingdom of God would not be established by force.

It would be established by sacrificial love.

The Cross—not the sword—would become Christianity’s greatest symbol.

A Different Kind of Kingdom

Jesus made His mission unmistakably clear before Pilate:

“My kingdom is not of this world.” (John 18:36)

That statement should forever shape how Christians think about politics.

Earthly governments rise and fall.

Political parties are born and disappear.

Empires come and go.

But the Kingdom of God endures forever.

When the Church forgets that truth, it begins to measure success by elections won instead of lives transformed.

The Seduction of Influence

Influence is not inherently sinful.

Joseph served Pharaoh.

Daniel served Babylon.

Esther influenced a king.

There are faithful believers throughout Scripture who served within governments.

The danger comes when the Church begins depending on political influence instead of the Holy Spirit.

History has shown that whenever the Church becomes too comfortable with worldly power, it often sacrifices its prophetic voice.

Instead of speaking truth to those in authority, it begins protecting them.

Instead of confronting sin wherever it is found, it excuses it when doing so preserves influence.

The prophets of Scripture never operated that way.

Neither did Jesus.

We Forgot Who Our Neighbor Is

Political division has convinced many Christians that those who disagree with us are enemies instead of neighbors.

But Jesus told us to love our neighbors.

Even more challenging, He told us to love our enemies.

The Cross leaves no room for hatred.

No room for contempt.

No room for celebrating the downfall of those made in God’s image.

If our politics make it difficult to love people, then our politics have become a spiritual problem.

The Church Was Never Meant to Mirror the Culture

Too often, the Church has adopted the world’s methods while expecting God’s results.

We have traded humility for outrage.

Grace for suspicion.

Peacemaking for culture wars.

Faithfulness for influence.

The Church was never called to reflect the values of the surrounding culture.

We were called to reflect Christ.

That means telling the truth with courage.

Showing mercy without compromise.

Standing for justice without hatred.

Loving people without demanding that they first become like us.

The Early Church Changed the World

The first Christians possessed almost no political influence.

They had no voting bloc.

No media platform.

No lobbying organization.

No cultural dominance.

Yet within a few centuries, the Gospel had spread throughout the Roman Empire.

Why?

Because believers loved radically.

They cared for plague victims whom others abandoned.

They rescued unwanted children.

They fed the poor.

They welcomed strangers.

They forgave those who persecuted them.

They lived lives that could not be explained apart from Christ.

Their greatest strength was not political power.

It was Christlike love.

Returning to Our First Love

Perhaps the greatest need in today’s Church is not another political strategy.

It is repentance.

Repentance for the times we have defended power more passionately than truth.

Repentance for placing party loyalty above Kingdom loyalty.

Repentance for allowing fear to shape us more than faith.

Repentance for forgetting that our Savior conquered through sacrifice, not domination.

The Church is at its best when it remembers that the Cross always comes before the crown.

The Cross Still Changes the World

Every generation must decide what kind of Church it will become.

One that seeks influence at any cost.

Or one that faithfully follows Jesus, even when it costs everything.

History remembers powerful kingdoms that have long since disappeared.

But it also remembers ordinary believers whose quiet faithfulness changed lives for eternity.

May we never trade the Cross for political power.

May we never confuse national success with spiritual revival.

May we never allow our allegiance to an earthly kingdom to overshadow our devotion to the King of Kings.

The hope of the world has never been found in Washington, Rome, London, or any other seat of earthly power.

The hope of the world has always been, and always will be, Jesus Christ.

May His Church once again become known not for the power it seeks, but for the Savior it follows. ~OC

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Don’t Mistake Religious Language for the Spirit of Christ

One of the greatest dangers facing the Church today isn’t always open hostility toward Jesus. Sometimes it’s something much more subtle.

It sounds Christian.
It quotes Scripture.
It uses the language of faith.
It speaks about God.

Yet it doesn’t reflect the heart of Christ.

The Apostle Paul warned the church in Corinth about this very danger:

“You happily put up with whatever anyone tells you, even if they preach a different Jesus than the one we preach, or a different kind of Spirit than the one you received…”
—2 Corinthians 11:4

Think about that for a moment.

Paul wasn’t warning them about abandoning religion. He was warning them about embracing a version of Jesus that looked convincing on the surface but was fundamentally different from the real Christ.

That warning is just as relevant today.

We live in an age where countless voices claim to speak for God. Social media, podcasts, conferences, television, politics, and even some churches are filled with people confidently declaring, “God told me…” or “This is what Christianity looks like.”

But confidence is not the same as truth.

Religious branding is not the same as the Kingdom of God.

Political influence is not the same as spiritual authority.

The question we must continually ask is not, “Does this sound Christian?” but rather, “Does this look like Jesus?”

Jesus consistently demonstrated humility over pride.

He chose compassion over cruelty.

He welcomed the outsider.

He defended the vulnerable.

He confronted hypocrisy.

He loved His enemies.

He forgave those who crucified Him.

He carried a cross instead of seeking a throne built on earthly power.

Any message that consistently produces fear, hatred, arrogance, division, or contempt should cause us to pause and examine whether it truly reflects the Spirit of Christ.

John gives us another important instruction:

“Dear friends, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God…”
—1 John 4:1

Discernment is not cynicism.

Discernment is love for the truth.

Testing every spirit doesn’t mean becoming suspicious of everyone. It means refusing to surrender our minds and hearts to personalities, movements, or ideologies without comparing them to Jesus Himself.

Every preacher should be tested.

Every ministry should be tested.

Every movement should be tested.

Every political ideology should be tested.

Every viral message should be tested.

And perhaps most importantly…

Our own hearts should be tested.

The standard isn’t whether someone makes us feel inspired.

The standard isn’t whether they align with our political opinions.

The standard isn’t whether they have a massive following.

The standard is Jesus.

Does their life reflect the fruit of the Spirit?

Do their teachings align with the whole counsel of Scripture?

Do they point people toward humility, repentance, grace, justice, mercy, and sacrificial love?

Or do they point people toward fear, outrage, pride, power, and division?

Satan has always been more effective through deception than through obvious rebellion. Paul later writes that Satan “masquerades as an angel of light” (2 Corinthians 11:14). Counterfeits are dangerous precisely because they resemble the real thing.

That is why we must remain rooted in Christ rather than captivated by personalities.

Read the Gospels often.

Study the whole counsel of Scripture.

Pray for wisdom.

Walk with the Holy Spirit.

Stay humble enough to be corrected.

The Church doesn’t need more celebrity voices.

The Church needs more followers of Jesus who know His voice well enough to recognize when someone is preaching a different one.

Don’t mistake religious language for the Spirit of Christ.

Test every spirit.

Test every message.

Test every leader.

Not by slogans.

Not by political power.

Not by religious branding.

But by the character, teachings, and love of Jesus Christ.

Because in the end, the safest place to stand is not behind a movement—it is behind the Savior. ~OC

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More Questions Than Answers

When I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease in 2007, my world changed in an instant.

Like so many others, I immediately began asking the questions we all ask after receiving life-changing news. What caused this? Could I have prevented it?

One thing stood out immediately: there was no family history of Parkinson’s disease.

No parents.
No grandparents.
No siblings.
No known relatives.

That didn’t answer the question—it only deepened the mystery.

Looking Beyond Genetics

For many years, Parkinson’s was often thought of as a disease that was primarily genetic. We now know that while genetics can play a role for some people, the majority of Parkinson’s cases are considered sporadic, meaning they occur without a clear inherited cause.

Researchers increasingly believe that Parkinson’s develops through a combination of genetics and environmental exposures. For many of us, the environment may play a much larger role than we once realized.

That realization raises important questions.

What have we been exposed to over a lifetime?

Pesticides.
Industrial chemicals.
Solvents.
Air pollution.
Contaminated water.
Heavy metals.

Scientists continue to study how long-term exposure to these and other environmental factors may increase the risk of developing Parkinson’s disease. While research is ongoing and not every case has the same cause, the growing body of evidence suggests that our surroundings matter.

We Need to Pay Attention

This isn’t about creating fear.

It’s about creating awareness.

If environmental factors contribute to Parkinson’s disease, then we should be investing far more into understanding those risks, reducing harmful exposures where possible, and protecting future generations.

We cannot change yesterday.

But perhaps we can change tomorrow.

That means funding more research.
Supporting environmental health initiatives.
Helping identify communities at higher risk.
And continuing to ask difficult questions until we find better answers.

My Journey

Nearly twenty years after my diagnosis, I’ve lived through far more than I ever imagined.

Parkinson’s became only one chapter in a much larger health journey that has also included Myasthenia Gravis and many other unexpected challenges.

I’ve experienced seasons of strength and seasons of weakness.

There have been victories, setbacks, miracles, disappointments, and countless lessons along the way.

If I’ve learned anything, it’s this:

A diagnosis may change your life, but it does not define your life.

I am still here.

I still have purpose.

I still believe God is writing my story.

A Call for Hope and Action

As someone living with Parkinson’s, I hope that one day we won’t simply ask how to manage this disease—we’ll know how to prevent many cases before they ever begin.

That will require courageous research.
Honest conversations.
Environmental responsibility.
And a commitment to putting people ahead of convenience or profit.

My prayer is that future generations will benefit from the questions my generation has had to ask.

Until then, I’ll continue sharing my story.

Because every story matters.

Every patient matters.

Every family matters.

And every step we take toward understanding Parkinson’s disease brings us one step closer to hope.

“We may not know exactly why every person develops Parkinson’s disease, but we owe it to those living with it—and to those who come after us—to keep searching for answers. Hope grows wherever truth is pursued.” ~OC

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How Politics Poisoned the Evangelical Church

There was a time when the Church was known primarily for its love.

People may not have agreed with Christians, but they knew what we stood for. We were known for feeding the hungry, caring for widows and orphans, visiting prisoners, defending the vulnerable, proclaiming the Gospel, and pointing people to Jesus Christ.

Today, far too often, something else defines us.

Politics.

Somewhere along the way, many evangelical churches stopped asking, “What would Jesus do?” and started asking, “What does my political party think?” The result has been devastating—not just for the Church, but for our witness to the world.

When Politics Becomes an Idol

Politics is not inherently evil. Christians should care about justice, the sanctity of life, religious liberty, racial reconciliation, the poor, immigration, education, and every issue that affects our neighbors.

Government matters.

Voting matters.

Civic engagement matters.

But politics becomes dangerous when it becomes our identity instead of Christ.

The moment our political party becomes more important than the Kingdom of God, we have crossed from stewardship into idolatry.

Jesus never called us to build an earthly political kingdom.

He called us to build His Kingdom.

Those are not always the same thing.

Trading the Gospel for Political Influence

For decades, many evangelical leaders believed that if they could gain enough political power, America could be transformed into a Christian nation.

But Scripture never teaches that governments transform hearts.

The Holy Spirit does.

Laws can restrain evil.

Only Jesus can redeem sinners.

When the Church puts its hope in elections instead of evangelism, or in politicians instead of Christ, it has misplaced its confidence.

The early Church changed the Roman Empire without controlling Caesar.

They preached Christ.

They loved sacrificially.

They endured persecution.

They served the poor.

They forgave their enemies.

That was their strategy.

We Began Excusing What We Once Condemned

One of the saddest consequences of political tribalism has been our willingness to excuse sin when it benefits our side.

We condemn dishonesty until our candidate lies.

We denounce sexual immorality until someone on “our team” is guilty.

We oppose hatred until it is directed at people we dislike.

We defend the fruit of the Spirit until anger and cruelty become politically useful.

This is not discipleship.

This is compromise.

The Gospel calls us to the same standard regardless of who sits in the White House.

We Forgot Our Mission

Jesus never told the Church to win elections.

He told us to make disciples.

Those are very different assignments.

Imagine if Christians spent as much time sharing the Gospel as they do arguing on social media.

Imagine if churches became more passionate about reaching their communities than defending political talking points.

Imagine if our neighbors knew us more for our compassion than for our outrage.

That is the Church Jesus envisioned.

Loving People We Disagree With

Perhaps one of the greatest casualties of political division has been love.

We’ve become suspicious of one another.

Quick to judge.

Slow to listen.

Ready to label fellow believers as enemies because they vote differently.

Yet Jesus gave us a different command:

“By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

Notice what He did not say.

He did not say people would recognize His followers by their political affiliation.

He said they would recognize us by our love.

Love has become increasingly rare in a culture built on outrage.

The Church should be the place where it flourishes.

The Cross Is Bigger Than Any Party

The Cross does not belong to the political left.

It does not belong to the political right.

It belongs to Jesus Christ.

No political platform perfectly reflects the Kingdom of God.

Every ideology falls short because every human institution is flawed.

Christians should be willing to applaud what is good, confront what is evil, and refuse to surrender their allegiance to any earthly movement.

Our citizenship is ultimately in Heaven.

That truth should shape every political opinion we hold.

A Call to Repentance

This is not a call for Christians to withdraw from society.

It is a call to remember who we are.

Followers of Jesus first.

Citizens second.

If politics has made us angrier than the world, less compassionate than Jesus, or more loyal to a party than to Scripture, then perhaps it is time to repent.

The world does not need another political movement wrapped in religious language.

It needs followers of Jesus who look like Jesus.

May we once again become known for our humility instead of our pride.

For grace instead of outrage.

For truth spoken in love instead of slogans shouted in anger.

And may the Church reclaim the mission Christ gave us—to love God, love our neighbors, and proclaim the Good News of Jesus Christ until He returns. ~OC

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Your Church

Today’s a new day!

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

It’s a question that has challenged me deeply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s the kind of Church Jesus envisioned.

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

Maybe it’s this:

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

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

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Good Trouble for the Church

Today’s a new day!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Gospel is still good news.

The Cross is still enough.

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

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

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

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