Tag: Serve

More Questions Than Answers

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

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

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

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

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

Looking Beyond Genetics

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

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

That realization raises important questions.

What have we been exposed to over a lifetime?

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

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

We Need to Pay Attention

This isn’t about creating fear.

It’s about creating awareness.

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

We cannot change yesterday.

But perhaps we can change tomorrow.

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

My Journey

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

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

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

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

If I’ve learned anything, it’s this:

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

I am still here.

I still have purpose.

I still believe God is writing my story.

A Call for Hope and Action

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

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

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

Until then, I’ll continue sharing my story.

Because every story matters.

Every patient matters.

Every family matters.

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

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

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How Politics Poisoned the Evangelical Church

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

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

Today, far too often, something else defines us.

Politics.

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

When Politics Becomes an Idol

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

Government matters.

Voting matters.

Civic engagement matters.

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

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

Jesus never called us to build an earthly political kingdom.

He called us to build His Kingdom.

Those are not always the same thing.

Trading the Gospel for Political Influence

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

But Scripture never teaches that governments transform hearts.

The Holy Spirit does.

Laws can restrain evil.

Only Jesus can redeem sinners.

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

The early Church changed the Roman Empire without controlling Caesar.

They preached Christ.

They loved sacrificially.

They endured persecution.

They served the poor.

They forgave their enemies.

That was their strategy.

We Began Excusing What We Once Condemned

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

We condemn dishonesty until our candidate lies.

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

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

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

This is not discipleship.

This is compromise.

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

We Forgot Our Mission

Jesus never told the Church to win elections.

He told us to make disciples.

Those are very different assignments.

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

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

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

That is the Church Jesus envisioned.

Loving People We Disagree With

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

We’ve become suspicious of one another.

Quick to judge.

Slow to listen.

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

Yet Jesus gave us a different command:

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

Notice what He did not say.

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

He said they would recognize us by our love.

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

The Church should be the place where it flourishes.

The Cross Is Bigger Than Any Party

The Cross does not belong to the political left.

It does not belong to the political right.

It belongs to Jesus Christ.

No political platform perfectly reflects the Kingdom of God.

Every ideology falls short because every human institution is flawed.

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

Our citizenship is ultimately in Heaven.

That truth should shape every political opinion we hold.

A Call to Repentance

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

It is a call to remember who we are.

Followers of Jesus first.

Citizens second.

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

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

It needs followers of Jesus who look like Jesus.

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

For grace instead of outrage.

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

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

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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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Your Church

Today’s a new day!

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

It’s a question that has challenged me deeply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s the kind of Church Jesus envisioned.

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

Maybe it’s this:

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

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

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Good Trouble for the Church

Today’s a new day!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Gospel is still good news.

The Cross is still enough.

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

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

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

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Loving Our Neighbors Beyond Politics

Yesterday, the Temporary Protected Status protections and work authorizations expired for approximately 330,000 to 350,000 Haitian nationals. Roughly 6,100 Syrian nationals also lost those same protections.

Regardless of where you stand on immigration policy, I hope we don’t lose sight of the human beings behind the headlines.

How many families woke up today wondering what comes next?

How many children are afraid of what the future holds?

How many businesses lost dependable, hard-working employees?

How many communities will lose neighbors who volunteered, coached youth sports, cared for the elderly, and quietly made their neighborhoods better?

How many churches will lose faithful members who served, worshiped, prayed, and loved their congregations?

As someone who has spent a great deal of my life in hospitals, doctor’s offices, and medical facilities, I can’t help but think about our healthcare system.

How many patients will lose trusted caregivers?

How many hospitals, nursing homes, rehabilitation centers, and medical practices will suddenly find themselves without compassionate, experienced professionals? Healthcare systems across the country have warned that the loss of TPS workers could worsen existing staffing shortages.

These are not just statistics. They are people with names, stories, dreams, and relationships. Many have spent years contributing to their communities, paying taxes, building businesses, serving churches, and caring for our most vulnerable neighbors.

As followers of Jesus, we are called to see people before politics. We are commanded to love our neighbors, welcome the stranger, care for the vulnerable, and remember that every person bears the image of God.

Before we argue about policies, may we first remember the people.

May our hearts never become so hardened that we stop asking, “How can I love my neighbor today?” ~OC

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Not Dead Yet: A Joyful Rebellion

Today’s a new day!

There is something beautifully rebellious about waking up each morning, opening your eyes, taking a deep breath, and whispering, “Thank You, Jesus.”

In a world that expects you to quit…
choose joy.

In a culture that celebrates outrage…
choose peace.

When pain tells you to give up…
choose hope.

Every smile in the middle of suffering is an act of defiance.

Every prayer whispered through tears is a declaration that darkness doesn’t get the final word.

Every act of kindness in a cynical world is a revolution.

I’ve learned that joy isn’t pretending everything is okay. Joy is looking straight at the storm and saying, “My God is still faithful.”

My body has given me more reasons to complain than I can count. There have been diagnoses, setbacks, fear, uncertainty, and days when simply standing up felt like climbing a mountain.

But here’s the beautiful truth:

I’m not dead yet.

So I still have a purpose.

I still have someone to encourage.

I still have songs to sing.

I still have prayers to pray.

I still have love to give.

I still have a Gospel worth proclaiming.

The enemy may have tried to silence my voice, but he couldn’t silence my praise.

He may have attacked my body, but he couldn’t steal my hope.

He may have shaken my world, but he couldn’t move the Rock on which I stand.

So every day I laugh…

Every day I worship…

Every day I love people…

Every day I forgive…

Every day I choose gratitude…

That is my joyful rebellion.

Because joy confuses despair.

Hope frustrates fear.

Love outlasts hate.

Grace overwhelms guilt.

And Jesus has already won.

If you’re reading this while carrying a burden no one else can see, don’t let your circumstances write the final chapter.

As long as God has given you breath, He has given you purpose.

As long as your heart beats, your story isn’t finished.

So stand up if you can.

Smile if you can.

Sing if you can.

Pray when you can’t.

And if all you can do today is whisper the name of Jesus, that’s enough.

Because the greatest rebellion against darkness is a life that refuses to stop believing in the Light.

Not dead yet.

Still praising.

Still believing.

Still loving.

Still becoming.

Still following Jesus.

And by His grace…

I’m just getting started. ~OC

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My Hope and Prayer for Each of You

Today’s a new day!

As I continue walking this crazy beautiful journey that God has placed before me, I’ve spent a great deal of time reflecting on what truly matters.

When life is interrupted by doctor’s appointments, hospital stays, difficult diagnoses, and moments that remind you just how fragile life really is, your perspective begins to change.

The things that once seemed so important begin to lose their grip.

The things that truly matter become impossible to ignore.

If I could share one thought with every person I know—my family, my friends, and even those I may never have the privilege of meeting—it is simply this:

Don’t waste your life chasing things that won’t last.

The world constantly tells us to chase more money, more success, more recognition, more followers, more possessions, and more applause.

But none of those things will follow us into eternity.

Only what we do for Christ will last.

So love people well.

Love the people who are not easy to love.

Love the people who disappoint you.

Love the people who think differently than you.

Love the people Jesus loves—which, thankfully, is everyone.

Life is simply too short to withhold kindness.

Forgive quickly.

Bitterness is a prison that only hurts the one carrying it.

Jesus forgave us while we were still sinners. As His followers, may we become known as people who extend the same grace we’ve so freely received.

Encourage often.

You never know what battle someone is fighting behind a smile.

A kind word, a handwritten note, a phone call, a prayer, or simply showing up can become the very thing God uses to carry someone through one more day.

Let’s become people who leave others stronger than we found them.

Walk humbly.

Every blessing we have is a gift from God.

Every talent.

Every opportunity.

Every sunrise.

Every breath.

Humility isn’t thinking less of yourself; it’s thinking of yourself less and making room for Christ to be seen more clearly through your life.

Trust God completely.

Not just when life makes sense.

Trust Him when the diagnosis changes.

Trust Him when the prayers seem unanswered.

Trust Him when the future feels uncertain.

Trust Him because His character never changes, even when our circumstances do.

I’ve learned that God has never once asked me to understand everything.

He has simply asked me to trust Him.

Keep your eyes on Jesus.

The world is loud.

Fear is loud.

Politics are loud.

Social media is loud.

Opinions are loud.

But Jesus still whispers, “Follow Me.”

Don’t allow the noise of this world to drown out the voice of the Good Shepherd.

Fix your eyes on the One who calmed storms, healed broken hearts, welcomed the outcast, carried the cross, defeated death, and still reigns today.

Finally, never forget this beautiful truth:

No matter what you are facing…

His grace is sufficient.

His love never fails.

His mercy is new every morning.

His peace passes understanding.

His presence never leaves you.

His promises are true.

That isn’t wishful thinking.

That is the unchanging character of God.

If my life has taught me anything over these many years, it is this:

Jesus is enough.

Not because life has always been easy.

But because He has always been faithful.

So this is my hope and prayer for each of you.

May you love more deeply than you ever thought possible.

May you forgive as freely as Christ has forgiven you.

May you become an encourager in a world desperate for hope.

May humility become your strength.

May your trust in God grow deeper with every season.

May your eyes remain fixed on Jesus no matter what comes your way.

And when your own earthly journey is complete, may your life tell the story of a Savior who never left your side, never stopped loving you, and never failed to keep His promises.

Until that glorious day, may we continue to walk by faith, love without limits, and shine the light of Christ wherever He leads us.

May our greatest achievement never be measured by what we accumulated, but by how faithfully we loved God and loved people.

And may everything we do point others to Jesus. ~OC

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When We Chose Silence

History never arrives wearing a name tag.

It comes in headlines,

executive orders,

courtrooms,

classrooms,

detention centers,

empty dinner tables,

and neighbors who suddenly disappear
from the routines of ordinary life.

It asks no one,
“Do you agree?”

Only,
“Will you notice?”

While some argued over politics,
children wondered if they would see
their parents again after school.

While some celebrated victories,
others quietly packed backpacks,
unsure if tomorrow would still feel
like home.

While many said,
“It isn’t happening to me,”
the circle kept growing,
its shadow stretching farther
than anyone expected.

A journalist lost a voice.

A teacher lost a lesson.

A veteran lost a place to sleep.

A refugee lost hope.

A worker lost dignity.

A family lost certainty.

And every loss whispered
the same question:

Who will stand beside them?

Freedom was never meant
to belong only to those
who look like us,
pray like us,
vote like us,
or were born where we were.

Justice was never intended
to recognize passports
before people.

Compassion was never supposed
to require permission.

One day,
our grandchildren may read
the journals written in 2026.

They may ask why children
wrote about fear instead of dreams.

Why families described hiding
instead of celebrating.

Why so many adults
mistook silence for peace.

I hope they also discover
another story—

Of ordinary people
who refused to let fear
have the final word.

People who crossed
political lines,
cultural lines,
and every invisible line
that divided neighbor from neighbor.

People who understood
that the measure of a nation
is not how loudly it celebrates liberty,
but how faithfully it protects
the vulnerable.

Because history remembers
more than what was done.

It remembers
who looked away,

and who,
at the right moment,

chose to speak. ~OC

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How Many Anne Franks Are Hiding Across America?

Today’s a new day!

“In the end, we’ll all become stories.” Those words, often associated with the power of memory, remind us that every life leaves behind a testimony.

Anne Frank’s diary has endured because it captured history through the eyes of a child. She didn’t write knowing the world would one day read her words. She wrote because she was afraid. She wrote because she hoped. She wrote because putting pen to paper was one of the few freedoms she had left.

Her diary asks every generation a difficult question:

What are the children of our day experiencing?

As I look across America in 2026, I can’t help but wonder…

How many children are quietly keeping journals they never intended anyone else to read?

How many are writing about watching a parent disappear after an immigration raid?

How many are describing the fear of hearing a knock at the door?

How many are documenting life spent wondering whether tomorrow will bring another goodbye?

How many families are being torn apart simply because they were born in another country?

These questions are not about comparing one tragedy to another. Every chapter of history has its own unique pain. Instead, they ask us whether we are paying attention to the people living through history right now.

One day, today’s children will grow up.

Some of them may publish memoirs.

Some may never share their stories.

Others may leave behind journals tucked away in closets, attics, or family boxes, discovered years after they’re gone.

What will those pages say about us?

Will they describe neighbors who chose compassion over fear?

Will they remember churches that opened their doors instead of closing their hearts?

Will they write about strangers who offered food, shelter, friendship, and dignity?

Or will they wonder why so many people looked away?

History has an unsettling habit of asking questions that cannot be answered once the moment has passed.

Future generations won’t simply read government policies or political speeches. They’ll read the stories of ordinary people. They’ll hear the voices of children who lived through these days. They’ll ask what the adults around them did when families were hurting.

As followers of Jesus, our calling has never depended on a person’s nationality, language, immigration status, or background.

Jesus consistently moved toward those on the margins.

He welcomed the stranger.

He cared for the vulnerable.

He challenged His followers to love their neighbors—not just the ones who looked like them or believed the same things.

Loving our neighbor doesn’t require us to agree on every political solution. Nations have laws, and citizens can honestly disagree about how those laws should be shaped and enforced.

But compassion should never become a casualty of politics.

A child is still a child.

A frightened family is still a frightened family.

A person created in the image of God is still a person created in the image of God.

Perhaps the question isn’t how many Anne Franks are hiding across America.

Perhaps the better question is this:

Will today’s children remember that someone saw them?

Will they remember someone who chose kindness over indifference?

Will they remember someone who reflected the love of Christ when they needed it most?

Because one day, the diaries of 2026 may be opened.

And when they are, may they tell stories not only of fear, but also of courage.

Not only of uncertainty, but also of hope.

Not only of suffering, but of people who refused to let compassion disappear.

History is being written today.

So is our legacy. ~OC

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