Tag: Marathon

Why Am I Still Alive?

Today’s a new day!

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

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

WHY AM I STILL ALIVE?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I wish I had a simple answer.

I don’t.

But I know this: JESUS. ONLY JESUS.

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

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

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

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

Faith simply gives me somewhere to take those things.

I take them to Jesus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m not alive because I never became afraid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JESUS NEVER PROMISED ME AN EASY ROAD.

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

Faithful people get sick.

Faithful people experience pain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Does that mean God has abandoned me?

No.

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes overcoming means getting out of bed.

Sometimes it means enduring another treatment.

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

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

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

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

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

SO, WHY AM I STILL ALIVE?

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

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

I am grateful for every single one of them.

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

JESUS.

Not because I can explain every moment.

Not because I know what tomorrow holds.

Not because I believe I am guaranteed another miracle.

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

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

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

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

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

I want to live with purpose.

I want to love deeply.

I want to forgive freely.

I want to encourage relentlessly.

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

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

You are more than your diagnosis.

You are more than your mistakes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not because I have all the answers.

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

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

But I am here.

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

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

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

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

WHY AM I STILL ALIVE?

I don’t know the complete answer.

But I know who I am trusting with the question.

His name is Jesus.

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

Not perfectly.

Not without pain.

Not without questions.

But by His grace, one day at a time.

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

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

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

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

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

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I Never Gave Up

Today’s a new day!

I don’t know when my story will end. Only God knows how many chapters remain or what the next page will hold.

I’ve faced battles that nearly broke me, received news that could have crushed my spirit, and walked through storms I never imagined surviving. My journey hasn’t been easy, and I know there are more battles ahead.

But nowhere in my story will you ever read the words, “I GAVE UP.”

I may get tired. I may hurt. I may stumble. I may have days when I don’t understand what God is doing. But by His grace, I will keep fighting, keep believing, and keep overcoming.

My health challenges are part of my story, but they will never define who I am. My faith is bigger than my fear, and my God is greater than any battle I face.

I don’t know how many pages I have left, but as long as God gives me another day, I intend to make it count.

The story isn’t over. The fight isn’t finished. And giving up? THAT WILL NEVER BE MY LEGACY! ~OC

“For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength. ~ Philippians 4:13

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Communion at Mile 26.2

Every marathon has a table.

For runners, it’s a place to grab water, catch their breath, and find enough strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

For Christians, that table is Communion.

The bread reminds us that Christ’s body was broken so we could keep going when life breaks us. The cup reminds us that His blood paid the price our own efforts never could. We don’t come to the Lord’s Table because we’ve run a perfect race—we come because we need His grace for the miles that still lie ahead.

No marathon is won by sprinting from start to finish. It is won by endurance, perseverance, and refusing to quit. Likewise, the Christian life isn’t about flawless performance; it’s about faithfully following Jesus, day after day, until we cross the finish line.

Communion is our reminder that we never run alone. The One who carried the cross now walks beside us through every uphill climb, every painful mile, and every weary step.

So take the bread. Drink the cup. Then rise from the table and keep running the race set before you, knowing that Christ has already secured the victory. ~OC

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God, What Are You Trying To Teach Me?

Today’s a new day!

Over the past twenty-plus years, I have walked through one of the most difficult journeys of my life. There have been diagnoses I never expected, hospital stays, surgeries, treatments, setbacks, moments of uncertainty, and seasons where I had no idea what tomorrow would bring.

People have often asked me, “Have you ever asked God, ‘Why me?'”

My answer has always been the same.

No.

Not because there is anything wrong with asking that question. In fact, many faithful men and women throughout Scripture poured out their hearts before God. They asked difficult questions. They lamented. They cried. They wrestled with pain. God is not afraid of our honest questions.

But for me personally, “Why me?” was never the question God placed on my heart.

Instead, from the very beginning of this journey, another question kept rising within me:

“God, what are You trying to teach me in this season?”

That simple shift changed everything.

Instead of only looking for an explanation, I began looking for His presence.

Instead of demanding answers, I started seeking wisdom.

Instead of focusing only on what I had lost, I began discovering what God was building inside of me.

Looking back over these twenty-plus years, I realize that some of life’s greatest lessons weren’t learned on the mountaintops. They were learned in hospital rooms, waiting rooms, sleepless nights, rehabilitation sessions, and quiet moments when all I could do was trust Jesus.

So, what has God taught me?

I’m glad you asked.

God has taught me that my identity is not found in my health but in Him.

When your body begins to fail, you quickly discover that your worth isn’t measured by what you can accomplish. My value has never been based on my strength, my productivity, or my abilities. My identity has always been found in being a child of God.

God has taught me that weakness is not failure.

The world celebrates strength, but God’s Kingdom often works through weakness. It is often in our weakest moments that His strength shines the brightest. My limitations have become opportunities for His power to be displayed.

God has taught me patience.

Healing rarely happens on our timetable. Answers don’t always come when we want them. Waiting has never been easy, but waiting with Jesus has shaped my faith in ways instant answers never could.

God has taught me to treasure every single day.

When you’ve stared mortality in the face, ordinary days become extraordinary gifts. A sunrise. A conversation with my bride, Laura. A laugh with a friend. A walk outside. These are no longer ordinary moments—they are reminders of God’s goodness.

God has taught me compassion.

Pain has a way of opening your eyes to the suffering of others. I have learned to notice the people sitting quietly in waiting rooms, the caregivers who are exhausted, the families praying for miracles, and the person who simply needs someone to listen.

God has taught me that prayer changes me.

Sometimes God changes our circumstances.

Sometimes He changes us while we’re in them.

Both are miracles.

God has taught me that hope is never wasted.

Hope isn’t pretending everything is okay.

Hope is believing that Jesus is still faithful when everything around you says otherwise.

Hope is trusting His promises even when you cannot yet see His plan.

Most importantly…

God has taught me that He will never leave me.

Not once.

Not in the emergency room.

Not in the hospital room.

Not during surgery.

Not during the difficult diagnoses.

Not during the darkest nights.

Not during the countless doctor’s appointments.

Not during the moments when I didn’t know what the future would hold.

Jesus has been faithful every single step of the journey.

If you’re reading this while walking through your own difficult season, maybe your question today is, “God, why me?”

If that’s where you are, know this: God welcomes your honesty.

But perhaps, when you’re ready, you might also ask another question:

“Lord, what are You trying to teach me in this season?”

That question doesn’t minimize the pain.

It doesn’t erase the tears.

It doesn’t guarantee immediate answers.

But it does position our hearts to receive what God may be doing beneath the surface.

I’ve learned that while God may not always remove the storm immediately, He is always present within it. Sometimes the greatest miracle isn’t that our circumstances change overnight—it’s that Christ transforms us as we walk through them.

My health journey has been long.

It has been difficult.

It has been painful.

But by God’s grace, it has also been one of the greatest classrooms of my life.

And for every lesson, every trial, every unexpected detour, and every reminder that His grace is sufficient…

I simply say:

“Thank You, Jesus.

Now, Lord…

What would You like to teach me next?” ~OC

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Rest Is Not Weakness

Today’s a new day! We live in a world that constantly tells us to do more, achieve more, produce more, and stay busy every moment of every day. Culture often promotes the idea that rest is for the weak and that if we slow down, we will somehow fall behind. Yet that mindset is not only unhealthy—it is unbiblical.

God never designed us to run endlessly without pause. From the very beginning, He established the principle of rest. Even after creation, God rested, not because He was tired, but because He was modeling a rhythm that humanity would need.

One of the enemy’s favorite strategies is not always to get us to quit. Sometimes he knows he cannot stop us, so he convinces us to overdo it. He pushes us to take on more than God intended, to carry burdens we were never meant to carry, and to keep running at a pace that eventually leads to exhaustion.

The danger is that by the time we arrive at the destination we have been striving toward, we are too tired, discouraged, or burned out to enjoy the blessings waiting there. We may reach the goal but lack the strength to reap its benefits.

That is why moments of pause are so important. Rest is not wasted time. It is preparation time. It is in those quiet moments that God refreshes our spirits, renews our minds, and restores our strength. Rest allows us to hear His voice more clearly and regain the perspective we often lose in the busyness of life.

The Christian life was never intended to be a sprint. It is a marathon. Scripture repeatedly calls believers to endure, to remain faithful, and to finish the race. Endurance requires strength, and strength requires renewal.

Jesus Himself often withdrew from the crowds to pray and spend time with the Father. If the Son of God prioritized rest and renewal, how much more should we?

So if you have been feeling guilty for slowing down, don’t. Resting is not weakness. It is wisdom. It is recognizing that you are human and that your strength ultimately comes from God.

Take time to pause. Take time to pray. Take time to recharge. The journey ahead is long, and God wants you to finish well.

Remember: this life is a marathon, not a sprint. Rest today so you can continue running tomorrow.

“Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” — Matthew 11:28

I hope this encourages those who have been running hard for a long season and need permission to embrace God’s gift of rest. ~OC

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A Look Into 26.2

Today’s a new day!

There’s something powerful about the number 26.2.

For runners, it represents the full distance of a marathon — a journey that stretches the body, tests the mind, and reveals what’s truly inside a person. Nobody accidentally finishes 26.2 miles. It takes endurance, perseverance, discipline, and the willingness to keep moving even when every step feels heavy.

In many ways, the Christian life feels a lot like a marathon.

There are moments when faith feels effortless — when the sun is shining, prayers are being answered, and God’s blessings seem to overflow at every turn. But there are also difficult miles. The lonely miles. The exhausting miles. The stretches where you wonder if you can keep going.

Yet through every mile of life, God offers something the world cannot give: His peace.

Jesus said in The Gospel of John 14:27, “Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives.”

That kind of peace is not dependent on circumstances. It is not tied to comfort, finances, success, or ease. God’s peace shows up in the middle of the race — when your legs are weak, your heart is tired, and you feel like stopping.

Anyone who has ever run a marathon knows there is usually a moment called “hitting the wall.” It’s the point where exhaustion crashes into you physically and mentally. Suddenly the finish line feels impossibly far away. For me, the wall always came at mile nineteen. I had to dig deep to keep moving forward.

Life has walls too.

Maybe it’s grief.
Maybe it’s uncertainty.
Maybe it’s a season of waiting.
Maybe it’s prayers that seem unanswered.
Maybe it’s carrying burdens nobody else sees.

But God specializes in strengthening weary runners.

The Book of Isaiah reminds us:

“Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary.”

Notice that Scripture does not say believers will never get tired. It says God renews us in the middle of the race.

That is one of the greatest blessings of following Jesus — we were never meant to run alone.

At mile 5 of life, He is with us.
At mile 13, He is with us.
At mile 20, when everything hurts, He is still with us.
And at mile 26.2, when we finally cross the finish line, He is waiting with open arms.

God’s blessings are not always flashy or loud. Sometimes His greatest blessings look like:

  • Peace during chaos
  • Strength during weakness
  • Hope during heartbreak
  • Joy during uncertainty
  • Rest in the middle of exhaustion

Those blessings sustain us for the long run.

A marathon runner learns quickly that the race is not won in a sprint. It is won through consistency — one faithful step at a time. The same is true spiritually. Faith is built daily. Prayer by prayer. Step by step. Moment by moment.

Some days your pace may feel strong.
Other days you may barely move forward.

But if you are still walking with Jesus, you are still in the race.

And here’s the beautiful thing about God’s grace: He is not standing at the finish line condemning exhausted runners. He runs beside us. He strengthens us. He carries us when necessary. His peace becomes the oxygen for weary souls.

The Christian life is not about running perfectly.
It is about running faithfully.

So wherever you are in your “26.2 miles” today, remember this:

God sees every step.
He hears every prayer.
He knows every struggle.
And His peace is available for every mile ahead.

Keep running.
Keep trusting.

Keep your eyes on Jesus.

The finish line will be worth it. ~OC

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Not In The Storm

Today’s a new day!

There comes a moment in life when you realize the journey is not about pretending to be strong every second of every day. It is about learning how to walk honestly with God through both the beautiful moments and the painful ones. As I continue walking this crazy beautiful health journey, I am jumping into the deep end of life.  I am choosing to live fully, love deeply, and embrace every moment God places in front of me. I am taking trips with my bride, cherishing the laughter, the quiet moments, and the memories we are building together. I am having deep and meaningful conversations about real life, real struggles, real faith, and real hope. No sugar coating. No masks. Just honesty wrapped in grace.

Some days are incredibly good. Some days feel light, hopeful, and full of strength. Then there are days that are really tough. Days where the storm feels loud and exhausting. But through every high and every low, I refuse to let the storm become my identity. My diagnosis is not my identity. My struggles are not my identity. My difficult moments are not my identity. My identity is found completely in Christ, and that is the only identity that truly matters.

The world often tries to define people by what they are going through.   God defines us by who we belong to. We belong to Him. We are loved by Him. We are redeemed by Him. We are sustained by Him. Storms may shape parts of our story, but they do not get to name us. Jesus does.

What this journey has taught me more than anything is this: life is too precious to spend buried under fear, hesitation, or regret. Too many people are waiting for “someday” to start living. Someday they will take the dream trip. Someday they will say “I love you.” Someday they will forgive. Someday they will have the hard but healing conversation. Someday they will step out in faith and pursue what God placed in their heart. But someday is never promised.

So my encouragement to everyone reading this is simple: live life to the fullest. Trust God enough to truly live. Take the trip. Make the phone call. Sit down and have the real conversation. Laugh loudly. Love deeply. Pray boldly. Stop allowing fear to keep you trapped in a life of “I wish I would have.” The storm may still rage around you, but there is a way to live beyond the storm.

Living beyond the storm does not mean pretending the storm is not real. It means refusing to let the storm steal your joy, your purpose, your faith, or your ability to truly live. It means understanding that even in the middle of pain, God is still writing beautiful chapters. It means choosing to see every breath as a gift and every day as an opportunity to love God and love people well.

At the end of our lives, most people will not regret loving too much, believing too much, or trusting God too deeply. They will regret the moments fear kept them from fully living. So live courageously. Live gratefully. Live authentically. And no matter what storm comes your way, never forget who you are.

Your identity is not in the storm.

Your identity is in Christ. ~OC

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Through Every Season

Today’s a new day! 

A true life of service isn’t measured in titles, applause, or the weight of history books—it’s revealed in quiet consistency, in promises kept when no one would blame you for stepping back.

At the state funeral of President Jimmy Carter, his grandson Jason Carter said something simple yet profound: he was the same person no matter who he was with or where he was. Not a version of himself—just himself. Always.

And if you’re looking for proof of that kind of integrity, you don’t have to search long.

In the autumn of 2019, at 95 years old, President Carter fell at his home in Plains, Georgia. He split his forehead, required 14 stitches, and woke the next morning with a blackened eye and a bandage across his brow. For most, that would be reason enough to rest, recover, and cancel whatever came next. 

But Jimmy Carter had made a promise.

So he boarded a plane and flew to Nashville, Tennessee.

That evening, standing before volunteers at the historic Ryman Auditorium, his face bruised and stitched, he didn’t speak about pain or sacrifice. He simply said, “I had a No. 1 priority, and that was to come to Nashville and build houses.”

And the next morning, he did exactly that.

No special treatment. No spotlight. Just jeans, a blue volunteer T-shirt, and a drill in his hand—working shoulder to shoulder with others through Habitat for Humanity to build porches for families who needed homes.

What makes this story even more powerful is that it wasn’t extraordinary for him.

It was normal.

This was the 36th consecutive year he had shown up.

It all began back in 1984, just a few years after leaving the White House. Walking past a build site in New York City, he noticed something most people would overlook—there weren’t enough hands. So he joined in. No announcement. No ceremony. He slept on a church bunk bed while others expected him to make a brief appearance and leave.

Instead, he picked up a hammer and stayed.

He once said, “It’s OK if they want to take my picture holding a hammer, but as long as I’m holding a hammer, it’s going to be hitting a nail.”

And that’s exactly how he lived.

Over the next three and a half decades, President Carter helped build and repair more than 4,300 homes alongside over 100,000 volunteers across 14 countries. He never asked for a different shirt. Never separated himself from the work. Never became a symbol instead of a servant.

He simply showed up.

Again and again.

There’s something deeply challenging about a life like that. Because it strips away excuses. It redefines what greatness looks like. It reminds us that legacy isn’t built in moments of comfort, but in moments of commitment.

A true life of service doesn’t demand recognition—it demands faithfulness.

Not once.
Not occasionally.
But consistently.

Through pain. Through age. Through every season.

And maybe that’s the real takeaway: the world doesn’t just need more leaders—it needs more servants. People who don’t just talk about making a difference, but quietly, faithfully, relentlessly go to work.

Because in the end, the most powerful testimony isn’t what we say.

It’s what we do—day after day, promise after promise, nail after nail. ~OC

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The Race Called Life

Today’s a new day! During my running days, I was blessed to complete 350 marathons. Yes, you read that correctly. I can take no credit. It was all God pushing me through those marathons. People often ask me why I ran 350 marathons? I tell them I did not like the number 349.

It’s been a number of years since I was able to run based on my health issues. While I would have never considered myself a professional by any means, I like to think I learned a few things during my running days. Like how to stabilize my breathing (well, I did my best) and how to run at a steady pace. Once again I tried my best. Running is a lot like living the Christian life. We have many lessons to learn. I learned a lot of lessons during my running days that I have been able to apply to my Christian journey.

One of the first lessons you learn when you start running is that you need to have endurance. Whether you’re running a 5K or a 50 miler (yes, I did that), you need to train so that you can run at a steady pace and not get worn out quickly.

The Christian life requires endurance as well. Life can seem long and hard as Christians, especially in the midst of challenges. Many people have made the comparison that life is a marathon, not a sprint, and the same goes for the Christian life. As the writer of Hebrews says, “For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised” (Hebrews 10:36).

When you’re running, especially long distances, you want to lay aside everything that could weigh you down so that you only have the essentials. Lightweight shoes and light breathable clothing. As a runner you need to find the perfect balance between bringing what is necessary and those things that would just weigh you down.

In the Christian life, we are called to lay aside what weighs us down—namely, sin and any idols in our lives. Hanging on to those idols can cause our faith to falter and stumble. Letting go of idols in our lives frees us to live a life that is dedicated to Jesus. As the writer of Hebrews says:

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.” (Hebrews 12:1–2)

As a runner, you come across trials and challenges. Whether that’s a heatwave, snowstorm, rainstorm, or injury, runners face challenges that impact their race. You can never predict these trials and instead you just have to take them as they come. But you cannot allow the obstacles in life to keep you from living the race God has designed just for you.

In the same way, as Christians we can face unexpected challenges and suffering. From a poor diagnosis, a lost relationship, a lost job or a broken family. This race called life can be difficult. But thankfully, we are being made perfect through the grace of God. As James writes in James 1:2-4, “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing”

My prayer is that we will all run this race called life with endurance and receive the beautiful gift of eternal life. ~OC

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Never Give Up

Today’s a new day! I think most people do not like to be uncomfortable. Most people do not like the hard moments in life. Most people do not like to be burdened or inconvenienced. Yet, in the tough moments in life, God never calls us to give up. Instead, He calls us to keep on pushing and trusting Him, even in the most difficult moments.

As a former marathon runner and someone who has been walking through a crazy beautiful health journey for over twenty years, I am used to being uncomfortable. I am used to the hard moments in life.

As I have walked through the tough moments in life, here are a few lessons I have learned:

Never give up on your prayers.

Never give up on the people God has placed in your life.

Never give up on your dreams.

Never give up on yourself.

Never give up when you face hard times or failures.

Most importantly, never give up on God.

The beautiful thing about God and his amazing grace is that He never gives up on us. He calls us back even when we decide to stray away and do things on our own. God is always there waiting for us with open arms. Remember, every battle we will ever face was defeated on the cross when Jesus gave his life for us.

I am not sure what type of season you’re walking through at this moment. Maybe you have been praying the same prayers over and over for years, but they seem like they will never be answered. Don’t give up.

I want to encourage you to never limit God and put him in a nicely decorated box. Allow Him to work through you and never give in to those temptations to give up.

Looking back on all of my marathons, I am so glad I completed each of my races and never gave into the temptation to quit. Based on my health, those marathons were never easy on my body, but each taught me about overcoming and to never give up.

I believe our faith and life journey is like a marathon, it’s not promised to be easy, it’s going to be hard and full of twist and turns, but our finish line and reward in eternity is far greater than anything we could ever imagine.

So today, keep pushing, keep fighting and never give up. ~OC

“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” ~2 Timothy 4:7

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