Tag: Peace

Take A Moment

Today’s a new day!

As we walk into this Sunday, it’s a beautiful moment to pause and ask ourselves a simple but powerful question: What am I thankful for? Life moves quickly, and it’s easy to focus on the challenges, the worries, and the endless to-do lists. But Sunday gives us a sacred invitation to slow down and remember the goodness of God. Gratitude shifts our hearts. When we take time to thank God for the breath in our lungs, the people we love, and the quiet ways He provides each day, we begin to see His faithfulness everywhere.

Sometimes the biggest blessings are found in the smallest moments. A peaceful morning, a kind word from a friend, strength to get through a difficult week—these are reminders that God is present in every part of our lives. Scripture continually calls us to give thanks, not only when life feels perfect, but in every season. Gratitude becomes an act of trust, a declaration that God is still working even when we cannot see the whole picture.

So as this Sunday begins, take a moment to reflect and thank God for something specific in your life. Maybe it’s a new opportunity, a lesson learned through hardship, or simply the gift of another day. When we begin our week with thankful hearts, we step forward with renewed faith, hope, and peace, trusting that the same God who carried us through yesterday will guide us through the days ahead. ~OC

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Comfortable, But Miserable

Today’s a new day! We are living in one of the easiest eras in human history. With a few taps on a screen, we can access more information than entire generations before us could gather in a lifetime. We enjoy conveniences that kings and queens once could not imagine—climate-controlled homes, instant communication, endless entertainment, and medical advancements that have extended life expectancy across the globe. In many parts of the world, particularly here in the United States, comfort and accessibility are woven into daily life. Yet despite all this ease, anxiety, depression, burnout, and emotional exhaustion are rising at alarming rates. We are informed, connected, and comfortable—yet deeply weary.

This contrast reveals a spiritual truth: comfort does not equal peace. Information does not equal wisdom. And constant connectivity does not equal true community. Scripture reminds us in Ecclesiastes that “the more knowledge increases, the more sorrow increases.” We are bombarded with news, opinions, crises, and comparisons every single day. Social media invites us to measure our lives against curated highlights. Work follows us home through emails and notifications. Our souls were not designed to carry the weight of the entire world’s problems at once.

Jesus offers a different way. In Matthew 11:28, He says, “Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Notice that He does not promise more information, more productivity, or more control. He promises rest. True rest is not found in better algorithms or more efficient schedules—it is found in surrender. It is found in laying our anxious thoughts before God and trusting that He is sovereign even when the world feels overwhelming.

Perhaps the reason mental health struggles are at an all-time high in the most comfortable age is because we have tried to replace dependence on God with dependence on convenience. Comfort can numb us, but it cannot heal us. Technology can connect us, but it cannot restore our souls. Only Christ can do that. As believers, we are invited to slow down, to unplug, to pray, and to remember that our worth is not measured by productivity or performance but by the unchanging love of God.

In the easiest of times, may we choose the deeper path. May we seek not just comfort, but communion. Not just information, but transformation. And may we find that even in an anxious age, the peace of Christ is still available—steady, unshaken, and freely given. ~OC

***Check out the Spoken Word version of this post at my YouTube channel Todd E. Shoemaker Music.

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Reflect Jesus

Dear Christian Brothers and Sisters,

Jesus can use broken people. If you truly study scripture, you will read that God often chose the weary, the wounded, and the overlooked to display His glory. From the suffering faith of Job to the thorn that humbled Paul the Apostle,  we are reminded that God’s power is not limited to perfect circumstances or pain-free lives. Some receive miraculous healing on this side of Heaven. Others pray with the same faith, the same tears, and the same surrender—and continue walking through illness or hardship. And there are those who once experienced a miracle,  only to find themselves facing another battle.This does not mean they lost their miracle.  It does not mean they have unresolved sin.  It does not mean they lack faith. It means they are human, living in a fallen world where suffering is still part of the journey.

We must stop spreading false doctrine that wounds the already hurting. When we imply that someone’s continued struggle is the result of weak faith or hidden sin, we misrepresent the heart of Christ. God never shamed the suffering;  He drew near to them.  He wept with them.  He touched the untouchable and sat with the rejected. The same Savior who healed bodies also carried a cross. He understands both deliverance and endurance. Jesus loves those who receive beautiful healings on earth just as much as He loves those who will receive their ultimate healing in Heaven. Our calling is not to judge or diagnose someone else’s spiritual condition, but to reflect God’s love, kindness, and compassion. Let us be people who comfort rather than condemn, who encourage rather than accuse, and who walk alongside the suffering with grace that looks like Jesus. ~OC

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

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Health Update

Today, I was released from the hospital. My condition is still considered very serious, but my medical team felt I would be more comfortable at home. Walking through my own front door felt surreal — a mix of gratitude, relief, and the quiet weight of reality. Hospitals have a rhythm of their own: monitors beeping, nurses checking in, the steady hum of constant care. Home is different. Home is where the fight becomes more personal.

My body and mind have become very tired of this long health journey. There’s a kind of exhaustion that sleep doesn’t fix — the kind that settles deep into your bones after years of pushing through appointments, procedures, waiting rooms, and unknowns. I continue to fight, but that fight is getting harder. That’s just me being real with you. Strength doesn’t always look like standing tall and fearless. Sometimes it looks like admitting you’re worn down and showing up anyway.

This journey has stretched me in ways I never imagined. It has taught me that courage can be quiet. That hope can flicker but still refuse to go out. That even on the days when I feel fragile, there is still a part of me choosing to stay, to try, to believe. Being home reminds me that this journey isn’t only physical — it’s emotional, spiritual, relational. It’s allowing yourself to rest without guilt. It’s letting others help. It’s accepting that you can be both strong and struggling at the same time.

I hope my health journey can help someone else walking out their own crazy beautiful journey. If you’re in the middle of yours — tired, uncertain, wondering how much more you can carry — please know you’re not weak for feeling that way. You’re human. And even when the fight feels heavier than ever, there is something incredibly powerful about your decision to keep going. We don’t always get to choose our battles, but we do get to choose to face them with honesty. Today, I’m choosing honesty. And I’m choosing to keep fighting, one breath at a time. ~OC

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Faith and Trust

Today’s a new day! We don’t always need to know what’s next. So often, we exhaust ourselves trying to map out every detail, predict every outcome, and control every turn ahead. But faith was never about having all the answers — it’s about trusting the One who does. Even when the path feels unclear and the future seems uncertain, we can rest in the truth that God is never confused, never late, and never unprepared. What feels unknown to us is already fully seen and carefully planned by Him.

There is peace in surrender. There is strength in faith. When we release the pressure of needing to “figure it all out,” we make room for trust to grow. We may not know what’s next, but we know Who goes before us. And that is more than enough. ~OC

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Prophetic Voice

When the Church cozy’s up to a politician
or pledges her allegiance to a political party,
she trades her prophetic roar for a press release.
She swaps sackcloth for silk,
the narrow road for a red carpet,
the upper room for the echo chamber.

The prophets of old did not sit at the king’s table
to secure influence—
they stood in the courtyard and declared,
“Thus says the Lord.”
They were not invited to strategy meetings.
They were summoned by fire.
They did not ask which side was in power;
they asked who had forgotten justice,
who had neglected mercy,
who had abandoned humility before God.

When the Church wraps herself too tightly
in the flag of any nation
or the platform of any party,
her voice becomes selective.
She whispers about sins that fit her narrative
and goes silent about the ones
that threaten her access.
But the Kingdom of Heaven
has never needed polling data.
It has never bowed to election cycles.
It does not campaign—
it transforms.

The prophetic voice is not partisan.
It confronts the left and the right.
It comforts the broken and challenges the proud.
It speaks truth to power
even when power writes the check.
Because once the Church fears losing influence
more than losing integrity,
she has already surrendered her authority.

The Church was never meant to be
the chaplain of empire.
She was called to be light in darkness,
salt in decay,
a city on a hill—
not a mascot on a stage.

So let her return to her first love.
Let her trade proximity for purity.
Let her be known not for who she endorses,
but for Who she follows.
And when she speaks again—
may it not sound like an echo
of a campaign speech,
but like thunder rolling down from heaven,
reminding every throne and every voter alike:
there is still a King
who does not run for office. ~OC

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

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Even In The ICU

As I sit here in ICU, my body is struggling. It’s tired from such a long battle. Every breath feels heavier than it used to. The steady rhythm of the beeping machines reminds me just how fragile this earthly body can be. And yet, in the middle of all of it, I feel a peace — a peace that surpasses all understanding, like the kind described in Philippians 4:6–7. 

My journey doesn’t make sense by human standards. Circumstances say fear. The monitors say concern. The weakness says exhaustion. But my spirit says peace. Jesus is here in this room, and that changes everything.

I do not totally understand why God chose me to walk this crazy, beautiful health journey… but He did. And because He did, I can trust that He has purpose in it. In my weakness, I turn to Him for strength. In my uncertainty, I turn to Him for guidance. If He can use these words written from an ICU bed to encourage even one person, then it’s worth it. 

My desire is simply to be a humble servant. I don’t crave a platform. I have no desire to be a social influencer. I’m not chasing fame or recognition. My only desire is to serve Jesus and to love and serve others well. If that service happens from a hospital room in Intensive Care, then I humbly accept the assignment. 

Whether standing on a stage or lying in a hospital bed, my calling remains the same: to reflect His love. This body may be weary, but my spirit is willing. And as long as there is breath in my lungs, I will continue to point people to the One who gives true hope and peace — even in the ICU. ~OC

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My Four Warriors

Years ago, on a late-night walk,
when the world was quiet and the streetlights hummed their soft hallelujah,
Jesus pulled back the thin veil between seen and unseen.
He whispered to my spirit what my eyes had never known—
that since my first breath,
since the cry that filled that delivery room,
four angels had stood at attention.

Eight feet tall.
Clothed not in linen, but in readiness.
Always dressed for battle.
Not nervous.
Not distracted.
Not sleeping.
Posted at the corners of my life like eternal sentinels.


They were there in childhood laughter,
there in teenage confusion,
there in every hallway I ever walked
thinking I was alone.

When fear tried to shake my foundation,
when sickness tried to write the final chapter,
when doubt whispered, “This is the end”—
they tightened their grip on their swords
and reminded darkness
it had picked the wrong person.

I didn’t always see them—
but they saw everything.
Every tear.
Every prayer.
Every silent plea breathed into a midnight ceiling fan.


And last night—
as the doors of Intensive Care opened
and machines began their mechanical chorus—
beep…
beep…
beep…

I saw them again.

My four Warriors.
Surrounding the room.
One at each corner.
Unmoved by monitors.
Unshaken by reports.
Unafraid of charts and statistics.

Eight feet tall.
Dressed for battle.
Eyes steady.
Peace radiating from them like armor polished by heaven.

Yes, I can see them.


They don’t speak loudly.
They don’t need to.
Their presence is a declaration.

Fear cannot cross this line.
Anxiety cannot occupy this space.
Hopelessness must remain outside the door.

Because where heaven stations warriors,
peace follows.

And as I lay in that hospital bed,
tubes and wires trying to define me,
I felt something stronger than pain—
I felt protected.

Not because the storm wasn’t real,
but because I was not facing it alone.


So let the night be dark.
Let the battle rage in unseen places.
Let the ICU lights flicker against the silence.

I rest.

For since birth, I have been covered.
Since breath number one, I have been guarded.
And when Jesus reveals what’s been fighting for you all along,
peace becomes more than a feeling—
it becomes a fact.

Four angels.
Eight feet tall.
Always dressed for battle.

And tonight,
they are still standing. ~OC

***You can listen to the Spoken Word of this post at my YouTube channel Todd E. Shoemaker Music.

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A Life Of Significance

Today’s a new day! This crazy beautiful health journey has taught me so many lessons over the years. There have been mountaintop victories and quiet valley battles—moments when strength felt limitless and others when even getting out of bed felt like a triumph. I’ve learned that health isn’t just about numbers on a chart; it’s about gratitude, surrender, and perspective. It’s about understanding that every breath is a gift and every setback can become a teacher. Pain has a way of refining what comfort never could. It strips away the noise and reveals what truly matters.

For me, one of the most important lessons has been this: LIVE A LIFE OF SIGNIFICANCE. Not a life chasing applause. Not a life measured by likes, titles, or temporary victories. But a life poured out with purpose. A life rooted in faith. A life for Jesus. Significance isn’t about being known by everyone—it’s about being faithful to the One who knows you completely. When I choose to live for Christ, my journey- every struggle, every breakthrough—becomes an offering. My scars tell a story of grace. My perseverance becomes a testimony. Living for Jesus transforms ordinary days into eternal impact, and that is a legacy worth building. ~OC

***You can check out the spoken word version on my YouTube Channel Todd E Shoemaker Music.

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