Tag: Pain

What Running Taught Me About The Gospel Of Jesus Christ

Today’s a new day! Back in 2003, while having a cancerous golf ball sized tumor removed from my chest, I had a vision that God wanted me to start running marathons and sharing the Gospel. No, it wasn’t the medications talking. Four months after having my chest cracked open, I laced up my running shoes and began a journey that was about much more than physical exercise. What started out as a God given vision eventually became a living illustration of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. With every mile, every struggle, and every victory, God showed me truths that I had read in Scripture but had never fully experienced until I began running.

The Journey Begins With A Single Step:

No one wakes up one morning and suddenly runs a marathon. Every runner begins with a single step. The same is true in our walk with Christ. Salvation begins when we take that first step of faith and trust Jesus as our Savior.

Many people look at mature believers and assume they have always been strong in their faith. The reality is that every Christian starts at the same place—at the foot of the cross, completely dependent on God’s grace.

Running reminded me that God is not asking us to be perfect overnight. He simply asks us to take the next faithful step.

Endurance Is Built Through Difficulty:

Every runner knows that growth comes through discomfort. There are days when your legs are tired, your lungs are burning, and everything inside you wants to quit. Yet those difficult miles are often the ones that make you stronger.

The Christian life is no different.

Trials, hardships, disappointments, and seasons of suffering are not signs that God has abandoned us. Often they are the very tools He uses to strengthen our faith. Just as endurance is developed on the running trail, spiritual endurance is developed through life’s challenges.

The Gospel does not promise an easy road. It promises that Jesus will walk with us every step of the way.

You Can’t Finish Looking Behind You:

One lesson running taught me quickly is that constantly looking over your shoulder will slow you down.

Spiritually, many believers struggle because they spend their lives staring at past failures, past mistakes, and past regrets. The enemy loves to remind us of who we used to be.

But the Gospel reminds us of who we are in Christ.

Jesus paid for our sins on the cross. Through His grace, we are forgiven, redeemed, and made new. We honor God not by living in guilt but by moving forward in faith.

Runners finish races by focusing on what lies ahead. Christians grow by keeping their eyes fixed on Jesus.

The Race Is Not Against Other People:

One of the biggest mistakes runners make is comparing themselves to everyone else. Someone will always be faster. Someone will always have a better finish time.

The Christian life is not a competition.

God has given each of us a unique calling, a unique testimony, and a unique race to run. The goal is not to be better than someone else. The goal is to be faithful to what God has called us to do.

Comparison steals joy, but gratitude fuels perseverance.

Sometimes You Have to Keep Going Even When You Don’t Feel Like It

Not every run feels amazing. Some days motivation is nowhere to be found. Yet discipline carries you when feelings disappear.

Faith works much the same way.

There are days when we feel close to God and days when we do not. There are seasons when prayer feels effortless and seasons when it feels difficult. There are moments when worship flows naturally and moments when we worship by faith.

The Gospel teaches us that our relationship with God is not based on feelings but on the finished work of Jesus Christ.

We keep praying.
We keep believing.
We keep trusting.
We keep moving forward.

Every Finish Line Points to Something Greater:

Crossing a finish line brings a sense of accomplishment, but every race eventually ends. Another race always waits ahead.

Running taught me that earthly victories are temporary, but the promises of God are eternal.

The greatest finish line is not found at the end of a race course. It is found when we stand before Jesus and hear the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

The Gospel reminds us that this world is not our final destination. We are running toward eternity with Christ.

Final Thoughts:

Running has taught me countless lessons about perseverance, discipline, and determination. Yet the greatest lesson it has taught me is this: the Christian life is not about running perfectly; it is about staying faithful to the One who called us.

When we stumble, Jesus lifts us up.

When we grow weary, Jesus gives us strength.

When we feel like quitting, Jesus reminds us of the hope set before us.

So keep running your race.

Keep walking by faith.

Keep trusting Jesus.

The miles may be long, the hills may be steep, and the journey may be difficult, but the Gospel assures us that we never run alone. Christ is with us every step of the way, and because of Him, the victory is already secured.

I hope this encourages both runners and non-runners to see how everyday experiences can point us back to the life-changing Gospel of Jesus Christ. ~OC

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Watchman On The Wall

Today’s a new day!

There are moments in life when words spoken over you stay buried deep in your spirit for years. Not because they inflate your ego, but because they carry weight. Responsibility. Sobriety. Reverence before God.

Several years ago, during two different conversations with two different men of God about some of my writings, they both shared something with me that I have never forgotten. They each told me they believed I was a watchman, like the watchmen described in the Book of Ezekiel Chapter 33.

At the time, I did not fully know what to do with those words. Honestly, part of me still wrestles with them. The title itself is not something I ever desired for attention or recognition. If anything, it humbled me and drove me into deeper prayer. But since those two separate conversations, I received multiple confirmations from God.

Because when you read Ezekiel 33, being a watchman is not about status. It is not about building a platform, gaining followers, or becoming spiritually important. It is about accountability before God.

The watchman in Ezekiel was called to stand alert, to discern danger, and to faithfully speak what God was saying whether people wanted to hear it or not. The responsibility was not to control outcomes, but to remain faithful in delivering the warning, the truth, and the call to repentance.

That is a sobering assignment.

As I have replayed those two specific conversations, I have become more humbled and do not take them lightly.

In a generation where compromise is often celebrated and truth is sometimes watered down to avoid discomfort, I believe the Church desperately needs voices that will speak with both conviction and compassion. Not voices fueled by anger, pride, or political obsession, but voices broken before God. Voices willing to grieve over sin rather than weaponize it. Voices willing to speak the whole counsel of God, even when it costs something.

A true watchman does not stand above the people. He stands among them, fully aware of his own need for mercy and grace.

That is where I find myself.

I do not claim perfection. I do not claim to have every answer. I am still learning, still growing, still being refined by the Holy Spirit daily. But one thing I know is this: I want to honor Jesus with whatever calling He has placed on my life.

As I have received more confirmation about this calling, I pray daily that God gives me the courage to remain faithful in this assignment.

Faithful when it is unpopular.
Faithful when culture shifts.
Faithful when the Church grows distracted.
Faithful when speaking truth costs comfort.
Faithful to warn.
Faithful to encourage.
Faithful to point people back to Christ.

Because the heart of a watchman is not condemnation. It is love.

A watchman warns because they care.
A watchman speaks because eternity matters.
A watchman refuses to stay silent because souls matter to God.

More than ever, I believe we are living in critical times. The Church must awaken from complacency. We cannot afford to drift spiritually asleep while darkness grows louder around us. Yet even in the middle of shaking, confusion, and moral compromise, I still have hope. Jesus is still building His Church. The Holy Spirit is still moving. Revival is still possible.

And so I continue to write.
I continue to pray.
I continue to seek the heart of God.

Not to build my own name, but to faithfully steward whatever assignment Heaven has entrusted to me.

If God truly has called me to stand as a watchman in this hour, then my prayer is simple:

“Lord, keep my heart pure, my spirit humble, and my voice faithful to You until the very end.”

I continue to pray for each and every one of you, as you walk through this day. May your day be filled with God’s peace, wisdom and healing. Blessings. ~OC

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Christianity…The Uncut Version

The Christian walk is often presented with polished smiles, perfect church clothes, and carefully edited testimonies. But the real journey with Jesus is not always neat, clean, or easy. It is gritty. It is costly. It is beautiful and painful at the same time. The real uncut version of following Christ is not a stage performance—it is surrender.

The Christian Walk Is Not a Highlight Reel

Somewhere along the way, many believers were taught that following Jesus would automatically make life easier. That if you prayed enough, served enough, or had enough faith, the storms would stop coming.

But Scripture never promised a painless life.

Jesus Himself said in The Bible, “In this world you will have trouble.” Not maybe. Not sometimes. You will.

The real Christian walk looks like praising God while fighting anxiety.
It looks like worshipping through chronic pain.
It looks like praying when heaven feels silent.
It looks like showing up to church with tears hidden behind your smile.
It looks like trusting God while your life feels like it is falling apart.

Faith is not pretending everything is okay.
Faith is clinging to Jesus when everything is not okay.

Real Christians Still Struggle

The sanitized version of Christianity often makes believers feel ashamed for struggling. But the heroes of faith in Scripture were deeply human.

David battled fear and depression.
Elijah became so overwhelmed he wanted to die.
Peter denied Jesus.
Thomas doubted.
Paul spoke openly about weakness and suffering.

God still used every one of them.

The modern church sometimes celebrates polished personalities more than authentic surrender. But Jesus was never looking for perfect people. He was looking for willing people.

The truth is this:
Some believers are exhausted.
Some are grieving.
Some are battling addiction.
Some are fighting private temptations.
Some are barely holding on.

And yet, they still whisper, “Jesus, I trust You.”

That is real faith.

Picking Up Your Cross Is Heavy

Jesus never said, “Pick up your crown and follow Me.”
He said, “Pick up your cross.”

Crosses are heavy.

Sometimes following Jesus means losing friendships because your values changed.
Sometimes it means forgiving someone who never apologized.
Sometimes it means standing alone.
Sometimes it means obeying God while everyone around you thinks you are crazy.

The Christian walk is not always comfortable because transformation is painful.

God will lovingly tear down pride.
He will expose idols.
He will confront hidden sin.
He will lead you into wilderness seasons where your only source of strength is Him.

And honestly? Those wilderness seasons are often where the deepest intimacy with God is formed.

Church Hurt Is Real — But So Is Jesus

Many people carry scars from the church.

Some were judged instead of loved.
Some were manipulated.
Some were ignored in their pain.
Some watched leaders fall.
Some walked into church broken and walked out feeling even more condemned.

Church hurt is real.
But Jesus is not the abuse you experienced.
Jesus is not the hypocrisy you witnessed.
Jesus is not the pride of broken people pretending to represent Him perfectly.

The real uncut Christian walk sometimes involves learning how to separate Jesus from flawed human behavior.

And that healing process can take time.

Sanctification Is Messy

Following Jesus is not instant perfection.
It is daily surrender.

Some days you feel spiritually strong.
Other days you feel numb.
Some days you pray for hours.
Other days all you can say is, “God, help me.”

Sanctification is messy because God works through real people with real wounds, real habits, and real struggles.

The Christian life is not about never falling.
It is about continually getting back up and running back to Jesus.

Grace does not excuse sin.
Grace gives us the power to keep fighting.

The World Does Not Need More Performers

The world is tired of celebrity Christianity.
Tired of fake perfection.
Tired of filtered faith.

People are starving for authenticity.

They need believers who are honest about their struggles while still pointing to the faithfulness of God.
They need Christians who love deeply.
Who repent genuinely.
Who serve quietly.
Who stay faithful even when nobody is applauding.

The strongest testimony is often not someone who has a perfect life.
It is someone who walked through hell and still did not let go of Jesus.

Jesus Is Still Worth Following

Even in the pain.
Even in the confusion.
Even in the waiting.
Even in the unanswered prayers.

Jesus is still worthy.

Because the real Christian walk is not built on feelings.
It is built on the truth that Christ remains faithful even when life is hard.

Following Jesus will cost you comfort, pride, and sometimes even relationships.
But it will also give you something the world can never offer:
real hope,
real peace,
real purpose,
and eternal life.

So if your walk with God feels messy right now, you are not alone.

Keep praying.
Keep fighting.
Keep showing up.
Keep trusting.

Not because you are strong,
but because He is.

And sometimes the most powerful words a believer can say are simply:
“Jesus, I’m still here.” ~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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Mental Health And The Church

Today’s a new day! May is Mental Health Awareness Month, so I wanted to share the following with you. 

The Church has not always handled mental health well. Too many people have been told to “just pray harder,” as if anxiety, depression, trauma, or emotional exhaustion are signs of weak faith. Some believers sit in pews every Sunday carrying panic attacks, grief, addiction, suicidal thoughts, or deep loneliness while smiling through worship songs because they are afraid of being judged. The truth is, loving Jesus does not make someone immune to mental struggles. Even great men and women in Scripture wrestled with despair, fear, exhaustion, and heartbreak. Faith does not erase the reality of being human.

There is nothing unspiritual about having a therapist. Therapy is not replacing God; it can be one of the ways God helps heal people. We do not shame someone for seeing a doctor when they break a bone or have cancer, so we should not shame someone for getting help with their mind and emotions. God can work through pastors, prayer, Scripture, worship, medicine, counselors, and therapists. Sometimes healing comes in a miracle, and sometimes healing comes in honest conversations in an office where someone finally feels safe enough to say, “I’m not okay.”

The Church needs to become a place where people can be real instead of pretending they have it all together. Too often Christians feel pressured to perform holiness while secretly falling apart inside. But Jesus never pushed away the broken. He moved toward them. He sat with hurting people. He listened. He restored dignity. The Church should be the safest place on earth to admit pain, not the most terrifying place to confess it.

If you are struggling mentally or emotionally, needing help does not make you weak, broken, or less Christian. It makes you human. Keep praying. Keep trusting God. But also take the steps toward healing that are in front of you. Talk to someone. Reach out for help. Healing is not always instant, and recovery is not always neat, but God still walks with people through the process. Sometimes faith looks less like pretending to be strong and more like having the courage to finally say, “Lord, I need help.” ~OC

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The Story Behind The Music 

Today’s a new day!

People often ask me how I started writing music, and the honest answer might surprise them—I don’t come from some deep well of musical training or natural talent. I’ve never claimed to be a musician in the traditional sense. But what I have always had is an ear for music and a mind full of thoughts that never seem to sit still. For years, those thoughts found their way into blog posts, journal entries, and scattered writings. I didn’t realize at the time that God was planting seeds—words that would one day find a different kind of rhythm and voice.

As time has gone on, I’ve heard people assume that what I write must just be random phrases plugged into some app, especially with how much AI is shaping the world around us. But I want to be clear—every word I share comes from a real place. It comes from my heart, from my experiences, and from what strength I still have to express what’s inside me. These songs aren’t manufactured; they’re lived. They are pieces of my journey, shaped by faith, struggle, and the quiet moments where God meets me right where I am. Yes, the vocals and music are AI generated, but each word, each vocal and style of music comes from God inspired inspiration. And a lot of late nights.

The turning point came during a time of prayer. I felt God speaking to my spirit, nudging me to take those old writings and begin turning them into songs. My first response was hesitation—I told Him plainly, “I don’t know how to write music.” But in that stillness, I felt His answer just as clearly: I do. It wasn’t about technique or training; it was about obedience. So I started, unsure but willing, trusting that if He called me to it, He would carry me through it.

Not long after, I prayed a simple but bold prayer—that God would give me something new to write every single day. And in His faithfulness, He has answered that prayer again and again. Each morning brings a new thought, a new message, a new opportunity to share something He’s placed on my heart. That’s why so many of you receive those daily texts or posts—it’s not routine, it’s provision. This journey isn’t about becoming a great songwriter; it’s about being a willing vessel. And as long as He keeps giving me the words, I’ll keep writing them. ~OC

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Letter Two: To A Nation Wrestling With Its Reflection

Dear America, 

There is an undeniable tension in the soul of this country when it comes to matters of race. We have made progress—this cannot be denied—but progress has not erased pain, nor has it resolved the deeper wounds that linger beneath the surface.

Too often, conversations about race are either avoided out of discomfort or inflamed by anger without understanding. In this fragile space, truth becomes a casualty. Some cling to narratives that deny injustice altogether, while others lose hope that reconciliation is even possible.

But we must resist both denial and despair.

The path forward requires honesty—the kind that does not seek to assign guilt, but to illuminate reality. 

It requires empathy—the willingness to step into another’s experience without defensiveness. 

It requires courage—the strength to confront not only the systems around us, but the biases within us.

A nation cannot heal what it refuses to acknowledge.

With steadfast hope,

A Servant of the Dream Yet to Be Fully Realized ~OC

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No Authority

Today’s a new day!

Fear is a powerful emotion, but as a believer, it does not have authority over your life. Scripture reminds us time and time again that God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind. When fear tries to creep in—whether it’s fear of the unknown, fear of failure, or fear of loss—you can stand firm knowing that it does not come from God. Instead, it is something you are called to resist through faith. God’s presence in your life is greater than any anxiety that tries to take hold, and His promises are unshakable even when your circumstances feel uncertain.

Walking in freedom from fear requires trust. It means choosing to believe God’s truth over your feelings. Fear may speak loudly, but it does not have the final say—God does. When you anchor your heart in His Word, you begin to see that fear loses its grip. You are not defined by your worries or limited by your doubts; you are defined by who God says you are: chosen, loved, and secure in Him. As you continue to lean into His presence, you’ll find that courage rises, peace settles in, and fear fades into the background where it belongs—powerless and without authority over your life. ~OC

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Through The Eyes Of A Thief

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

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

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

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

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Grace Over Judgement

In a world where news travels faster than ever, it didn’t take long for headlines and social media feeds to light up after the news broke that a famous golfer had been arrested on a DUI charge. Within minutes, opinions flooded in—many of them harsh, judgmental, and unforgiving. It’s striking how quickly people can shift from admiration to criticism, often acting as though they themselves have never stumbled, never made a poor decision, never had a moment they wish they could take back. The reality is, we are all human. We all have flaws, struggles, and chapters of our lives we’d rather not have put on public display.

What’s often forgotten in moments like these is that behind the fame, the trophies, and the public persona is a real person—someone who may be dealing with deep personal challenges. Instead of rushing to condemn, perhaps this is a time to reflect inward. How would any of us feel if one of our worst moments became front-page news, dissected and debated by millions? It’s easy to judge from a distance, but empathy requires us to pause and consider the full picture. Fame should never strip someone of their humanity or make them an easier target for criticism.

Today, rather than adding to the noise of negativity, I encourage each of us to choose compassion. Lift Tiger Woods up in prayer—for his health, for his healing, and for his family. Life has a way of humbling all of us at different times, and when it does, what we need most is grace, not judgment. Let’s be mindful of the words we share and the attitudes we carry, remembering that kindness and understanding will always speak louder than criticism. ~OC

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

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