Tag: Never Give Up

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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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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My Medical Rap Sheet Doesn’t Get The Final Word

Today’s a new day!

Here is my medical rap sheet.

  • Crippling Arthritis — 2002 (Ended up being cancer)
  • Cancer — 2003
  • Parkinson’s Disease — 2007
  • Myasthenia Gravis — 2009
  • Gastroparesis — 2015
  • COVID Long Haulers — 2022
  • Type Two Diabetes 202 (medication induced)
  • Cluster and Migraine Headaches — 2024
  • Dementia — 2024

Looking at that list, many people would probably assume my life is over.

They would assume the best years are behind me. That my dreams have ended. That all that’s left is surviving.

But they would be wrong.

Every single day, I choose life.

I choose to keep making memories with my beautiful bride of twenty-six years. I choose to laugh, to love, and to appreciate the moments that many people rush past.

I choose to continue advocating for other patients who need someone to remind them that they are more than a diagnosis.

I choose to keep fighting against human trafficking because there are people who desperately need hope, justice, and someone willing to stand in the gap.

Does that mean this health journey is easy?

Absolutely not.

There are days filled with pain. Days of exhaustion. Days when my body reminds me of every diagnosis on that list.

But years ago, I made a decision.

This health battle would never become my identity.

My diagnoses describe some of the battles I face—they do not define the man I am.

I refuse to allow illness to steal my purpose. I refuse to let disease dictate my joy. I refuse to surrender the calling God has placed on my life simply because my body doesn’t always cooperate.

Instead, I choose to keep living.

I choose to keep loving.

I choose to keep serving.

I choose to keep overcoming.

If you’re walking through a battle today—whether it’s a health crisis, grief, depression, financial hardship, addiction, or something no one else can see—I want to encourage you.

Don’t let your battle become your identity.

Keep fighting.

Keep making memories.

Keep dreaming.

Keep showing up.

Keep loving the people around you.

Live your life to the fullest, even if it looks different than you once imagined.

Champions aren’t defined by the battles they face.

They’re defined by the courage to keep getting back up.

So today…

Choose hope.

Choose purpose.

Choose joy.

Choose life.

And whatever comes your way, keep overcoming.

Live like a champion. ~OC

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Storms

Storms have a way of stealing our focus. The wind gets louder, the waves grow higher, and fear begins to whisper that we’re sinking.

But just as Peter discovered on the water, everything changes when we fix our eyes on Jesus instead of the storm. The waves may still crash around us, but His presence brings peace that circumstances cannot take away.

Whatever storm you’re facing today, don’t let it become bigger than your Savior. Keep looking to Jesus. He is still faithful, still in control, and still leading you safely through to the other side. ~OC

“Fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.” — Hebrews 12:2

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Dear Parkinson’s Community

Dear Parkinson’s Community,

I wanted to see if there would be interest in starting a weekly or monthly Zoom gathering for our Parkinson’s community.

The vision is simple: to discuss the latest developments in Parkinson’s research and treatment, share practical insights, encourage one another, and remind each other that no one has to walk this journey alone.

This group would be open to:

  • People living with Parkinson’s disease
  • Caregivers and family members
  • Medical professionals
  • Anyone who has lost a loved one to Parkinson’s

Whether you’re newly diagnosed, have been living with Parkinson’s for years, care for someone with the disease, or simply want to learn and support others, you are welcome.

If this is something you would be interested in, please leave a comment below or send me a direct message. If there’s enough interest, I’ll begin organizing our first Zoom meeting.

Together, we can learn, encourage one another, and find hope for the road ahead.

You are not alone. ~OC

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Life With Purpose

Today’s a new day!

Twenty-four years ago, I never imagined the road my life would take.

If someone had told me I would spend decades walking through cancer, Parkinson’s Disease, Myasthenia Gravis, a stroke, gastroparesis, early-stage Lewy Body Dementia, countless hospital stays, surgeries, treatments, and more doctor’s appointments than I could ever count, I probably would have wondered how anyone could endure that much.

The truth is, there have been days when I wondered the same thing.

There have been moments when fear tried to take over. There have been seasons of grief as I watched abilities I once took for granted slowly disappear. As a former marathon runner, I remember what it felt like to run mile after mile with freedom. Today, every step is a reminder that life has changed.

But here’s what I’ve discovered.

I couldn’t choose my diagnoses, but I could choose what I did with them.

Somewhere along this journey, God began changing my perspective. Instead of asking, “Lord, why is this happening to me?” I found myself asking, “Lord, how can You use this for Your glory?”

That question changed everything.

Purpose doesn’t eliminate pain, but it gives pain eternal significance.

Some of the most powerful moments of my faith haven’t happened in church buildings. They’ve happened in emergency rooms, hospital rooms, intensive care units, doctor’s offices, and quiet moments when all I could do was whisper the name of Jesus.

I’ve experienced frightening hallucinations brought on by Parkinson’s Disease and dementia. They were unlike anything I had ever known. Yet even in those moments, when my mind should have been consumed with fear, God filled it with peace and worship. Songs came flooding into my heart. Instead of darkness having the final word, Jesus reminded me that His presence reaches places illness never can.

Those songs eventually became Songs in the Battle.

What the enemy intended to use to discourage me, God transformed into worship.

In 2019, during surgery, God gave me a glimpse of Heaven that forever changed how I see suffering. I experienced a place more beautiful than words could ever describe. I had no pain. I had a new body. I didn’t want to leave.

Then I heard these words:

“Not yet, my son. I have more work for you to complete.”

When I woke up in recovery pointing toward Heaven, I knew my life no longer belonged to me. It belonged completely to the One who had sent me back.

That experience didn’t remove my health challenges.

It gave them purpose.

I’ve learned that ministry isn’t confined to a platform or a microphone. Sometimes ministry looks like encouraging another patient in a waiting room. Sometimes it’s praying for a nurse who has had an exhausting shift. Sometimes it’s simply choosing joy when your circumstances make no sense.

Every diagnosis has become another opportunity to testify to God’s faithfulness.

Every setback has become another opportunity to trust Him.

Every scar has become another reminder that God is still writing my story.

I’ve also learned that weakness isn’t the opposite of usefulness.

The world measures people by what they can produce. God measures us by our willingness to trust Him. Scripture reminds us that His power is made perfect in weakness. Looking back, I can honestly say I’ve often experienced God’s strength most clearly when I had none of my own.

If my journey has taught me anything, it’s that purpose isn’t determined by our physical abilities. It’s determined by our willingness to surrender whatever we have to God.

I don’t know what tomorrow’s doctor’s appointment will bring.

I don’t know what new challenge may be waiting around the corner.

But I do know this:

As long as God gives me breath, I want every breath to point someone toward Jesus.

If my story gives hope to someone newly diagnosed…

If it encourages a caregiver who is exhausted…

If it reminds someone that miracles still happen—even when they don’t look the way we expected…

If it helps one person discover that Jesus never abandons us in our suffering…

Then every difficult day has eternal value.

I have made the choice to live out my health issues with purpose.

Not because this journey has been easy.

Not because I enjoy suffering.

But because I have seen, time and time again, that God never wastes a surrendered life.

My health challenges are part of my testimony, but they are not my identity.

My identity is found in Jesus Christ.

And as long as He continues to write my story, I will keep telling the world that hope is alive, miracles still happen, and no diagnosis is greater than the faithfulness of God. ~OC

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Everyone Belongs

This week marks the 36th anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), a landmark moment in our nation’s history.

The Americans with Disabilities Act was more than a piece of legislation. It was a declaration that every person has inherent worth, dignity, and the right to fully participate in society. It challenged barriers that had excluded millions of Americans and affirmed that disability should never determine a person’s value or limit their opportunity.

While we have made significant progress over the past 36 years, the journey is far from over.

Too many people with disabilities still encounter physical barriers, employment discrimination, inaccessible healthcare, transportation challenges, and attitudes that underestimate their gifts and potential. True accessibility is about more than ramps and parking spaces—it is about creating a culture where every person is welcomed, respected, and empowered to thrive.

As someone who has spent years walking through significant health challenges, I have experienced firsthand both the compassion of others and the obstacles that still exist. I have also learned that disability does not diminish purpose. It does not erase calling. It does not prevent God from working through our lives in powerful ways.

The Church has a unique opportunity to lead by example. We should be the first to ensure that people with disabilities are not merely accommodated but fully embraced as essential members of the Body of Christ. Every gift matters. Every voice matters. Every life matters.

The ADA reminds us of an important truth: inclusion is not charity—it is justice. And for those of us who follow Jesus, it is also an expression of His heart. Throughout the Gospels, Jesus consistently welcomed those whom society overlooked, reminding us that every person bears the image of God.

As we reflect on the legacy of the Americans with Disabilities Act, may we celebrate how far we’ve come while recommitting ourselves to building communities where every person can flourish with dignity, opportunity, and hope.

Let’s continue removing barriers—not just in our buildings, but in our hearts.

Because everyone belongs. ~OC

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Keep Being You, Ryan Clark

I have never met Ryan Clark, but I have long been a fan of his work.

Like many football fans, I appreciate his knowledge of the game. He breaks down plays with intelligence, passion, and the perspective of someone who has actually lived the NFL experience. But what has always stood out to me even more than his football analysis is his willingness to speak his mind.

Ryan Clark has never seemed interested in simply telling people what they want to hear. Whether discussing football or larger issues affecting society, he has consistently been willing to stand up for people whose voices are often overlooked. You may not always agree with everything he says—that’s perfectly reasonable—but you always know where he stands.

This week, ESPN parted ways with Ryan Clark. 

As I write this, I have not seen an official explanation detailing the reasons behind that decision. Because of that, anything beyond the publicly available facts is speculation.

From my perspective, it is difficult not to wonder whether his willingness to speak openly on social issues played a role. That is simply my opinion, not a statement of fact. If that were the case, I would find it disappointing. In a country that values free expression, thoughtful disagreement should not be something we fear. People can disagree passionately while still respecting one another.

Regardless of the reasons behind ESPN’s decision, one thing seems clear to me: Ryan Clark’s talent did not disappear overnight. A respected football analyst with his experience, insight, and ability to connect with audiences will almost certainly have opportunities ahead. Great communicators have a way of finding new platforms.

Sometimes a closed door becomes the entrance to something even greater.

I have every confidence that Ryan Clark will land on his feet and continue building an outstanding career. Whether it’s on another network, through digital media, or in an entirely new venture, I believe his future remains incredibly bright.

To Ryan Clark, if you ever happen to read this: thank you for being authentic. Thank you for speaking with conviction, even when it isn’t easy. Continue to be yourself, continue to challenge conversations, and continue to bring your passion for football wherever your journey leads next.

I’ll be watching.

And I’ll be cheering you on.

Keep being you. ~OC

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True Difference-Makers

Today’s a new day!

We live in a culture that often celebrates the loudest voices, the biggest platforms, and the wealthiest people. Every day we are bombarded with stories of people chasing power, fame, influence, and money, as though those things alone define a successful life.

But I have discovered something far more inspiring.

There are still people quietly changing the world.

They may or may not trend on social media. They may or may not become household names. They may or may not receive the recognition they deserve. Yet every single day they choose compassion and truth over applause, service over status, and people over personal gain.

I wanted to take a moment to recognize just a few individuals whose lives have encouraged me.

Ricky Aiken- Inner City Innovators:

Ricky Aiken has dedicated his life to investing in young people and underserved communities through Inner City Innovators (https://innercityinnovators.org/). Rather than asking, “How can I become successful?” he asks, “How can I help someone else succeed?”

His work is about creating opportunities where others see obstacles, building hope where many only see despair, and reminding people that every life has value.

That kind of leadership isn’t built on ego.

It’s built on love.

Bryan Stevenson-Equal Justice Initiative:

Bryan Stevenson has spent decades standing beside people whom much of society has forgotten. Through the Equal Justice Initiative (https://eji.org/), he has become a powerful voice for justice, mercy, and human dignity.

One of his most memorable statements is this:

“Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”

Those words reflect a truth Christians 

understand well. Every one of us stands in need of grace. Every one of us has been offered redemption through Christ.

Justice without compassion becomes cold.

Compassion without justice becomes incomplete.

Bryan Stevenson reminds us that both matter.

Benjamin R. Cremer:

Benjamin Cremer (https://benjaminrcremer.substack.com/ ), consistently challenges Christians to look more like Jesus than like the culture around us.

His writing encourages believers to choose humility over arrogance, love over outrage, and faithfulness over political power.

In a time when Christianity is too often associated with division, Benjamin continually points people back to the heart of Jesus.

Not everyone agrees with him.

That isn’t the point.

His willingness to speak with humility, compassion, and conviction is something our world desperately needs.

Suleika Jaouad:

Suleika Jaouad (https://www.suleikajaouad.com/), has shared her deeply personal journey through illness, uncertainty, hope, and resilience with remarkable honesty.

Instead of allowing suffering to define her, she has used it to connect with countless others walking through their own difficult seasons.

She reminds us that healing isn’t always about becoming who we once were.

Sometimes healing is becoming someone entirely new.

As someone who has spent many years navigating serious health challenges, I deeply appreciate voices that speak honestly about pain while refusing to surrender hope.

A Different Kind of Legacy

These four people come from different backgrounds.

They may have different beliefs.

They may serve in different ways.

Yet they share something that seems increasingly rare.

They have chosen to live for something bigger than themselves.

They remind us that changing the world doesn’t always happen from a stage.

Sometimes it happens in a courtroom.

Sometimes it happens in forgotten neighborhoods.

Sometimes it happens through honest conversations.

Sometimes it happens one person at a time.

What Will Be Said About Us?

When our lives are over, people probably won’t remember how many followers we had.

They won’t remember how much money we accumulated.

They won’t remember how famous we became.

They will remember how we treated people.

Did we lift others up?

Did we stand beside those who were hurting?

Did we speak truth with grace?

Did we leave the world more compassionate than we found it?

Jesus never told His followers to seek fame.

He told us to love our neighbors.

He never instructed us to chase power.

He taught us to become servants.

He never measured success by influence.

He measured it by faithfulness.

Perhaps that’s the kind of legacy worth pursuing.

In a world obsessed with being noticed, may we become people who quietly notice others.

Because those are often the people who change the world the most. ~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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