Tag: Storms

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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Seasons

Today’s a new day! Yes, I am still on a break from sharing daily post, but sometimes God puts something on your heart that you feel compelled to share. This is one of those moments. The following is a collection of thoughts God has shared with me the last few days. I pray it speaks to your spirit.

There are seasons in life when the presence of God feels especially near. Seasons where you can see His hand moving in ways that are undeniable. Moments where prayers seem deeper, peace feels stronger, and hope begins to rise again. I believe I am walking through one of those seasons right now.

In this season, I can feel and sense God doing a mighty work in my body, bringing healing, strength, and renewal. I can see Him moving within my marriage, drawing us closer together and reminding us that His love is the foundation we stand upon. I also see Him working in the lives of our family and friends, opening doors, restoring hearts, and surrounding people with His grace and mercy.

Sometimes God moves quietly, like a whisper in the night. Other times, His presence feels overwhelming, powerful, and impossible to ignore. This season feels like one of those moments where Heaven is touching Earth in a fresh way. It is a reminder that God never stops working, even when we cannot always see it immediately.

Because of this, I want to encourage everyone reading this to lean into God a little closer. Spend time with Him in prayer. Open His Word. Worship even in the middle of uncertainty. Trust that where He has you planted right now is not an accident. There is purpose in this season, even if you do not fully understand it yet.

God knows exactly where you are. He knows the battles you are facing, the prayers you are praying, and the dreams hidden within your heart. And just as He is moving in my life, I believe He desires to move in yours as well.

So embrace the season you are in. Stay rooted in faith. Keep your eyes fixed on Jesus. The same God who brought healing, miracles, and revival throughout Scripture is still moving today. And I truly believe we are living in a time where His presence is drawing people closer to Him once again.~ OC

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A Look Into 26.2

Today’s a new day!

There’s something powerful about the number 26.2.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Life has walls too.

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

But God specializes in strengthening weary runners.

The Book of Isaiah reminds us:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Those blessings sustain us for the long run.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Keep running.
Keep trusting.

Keep your eyes on Jesus.

The finish line will be worth it. ~OC

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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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A Country Divided

Today’s a new day! I debated on whether to share the following or not. But after praying about it, I decided it was time to share the newest writing. Well, new for you, but I have been holding on to it for some time. 

As I have watched the news, scrolled social media, and had conversations with family and friends, I have been heartbroken. The division, the cruelty, the “us versus them” mentality… it literally makes me sick to my stomach. I have watched the name-calling. I have watched politics turn human beings into teams, tribes, targets, and enemies. 

People ask me all the time if I’m a Democrat or a Republican. My answer is simple: I vote for whoever I believe will do the least harm in that moment. That’s it. Politics has taken on a level of hatred I want no part of. 

A house divided cannot stand. 

 And I am afraid this country is tearing itself apart piece by piece. 

The last time I remember seeing this country truly united in my lifetime was when those towers fell on September 11th. For a brief moment, we were not White, Black, Democrat, Republican, Rich, Poor, Blue State, Red State Left or Right. 

We were simply Americans. 

We cried together. We prayed together. We held each other up. And as tragic as that moment was, the unity that followed was a beautiful thing to witness. 

I miss that. 

Now everybody wants to be right, but not enough people want to be righteous. 

My health issues have taken a lot from me over the years. But at the same time, it’s allowed me to see life with a whole new perspective. So I do not share to gain anything. I am not afraid of backlash. I’ve got nothing left to lose except my place in heaven, and I refuse to give that up. 

I don’t agree with sin — any sin — but I will always love the person. 

That’s what Jesus did. 

When the woman caught in adultery was thrown at His feet, the crowd wanted to stone her. They wanted punishment. They wanted to feel righteous by destroying someone else. 

But Jesus didn’t join the mob. 

He protected her dignity first. 

Then He said, “Go and sin no more.” 

He corrected the sin without crushing the soul. 

That’s the example I try to follow. 

And look at how Jesus treated immigrants and strangers. 

He said, “I was a stranger and you welcomed me.”  

He praised the Good Samaritan — a foreigner — as the true neighbor. 

He never taught us to fear people crossing borders. 

But today, we treat immigrants in ways we wouldn’t treat our dogs. 

We act like every one of them is a criminal. 

We forget they’re human beings — fathers, mothers, grandparents, children — many running from danger, hoping for a chance to do things the right way. 

Not all of them are criminals. 

Not all of them are threats. 

Every one of them deserves dignity and a chance to become a citizen the right way. 

This is who I try to be: 

Someone who chooses decency even when it costs something. 

Someone who refuses to join the outrage machine. 

Someone who speaks up for people being dehumanized — whether they’re immigrants, LGBTQ, disabled, poor, or simply different. 

I do not have a platform. 

I do not have a microphone. 

I have a body that doesn’t work very well anymore. 

But I still have eyes. 

I still have a conscience. 

And I still have a responsibility to speak the truth as I see it in the scriptures.

When God finally calls me home, I want to leave it knowing I stood on the side of compassion — not cruelty. On the side of humanity — not division. On the side of Jesus — not the crowd with the stones in their hands. ~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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Keep Going

Today’s a new day!

There are moments in life when the journey feels too heavy for words. Doctor appointments, setbacks, unanswered prayers, victories nobody else sees, and quiet tears in the middle of the night can shape a person in ways the world may never fully understand. Health battles have a way of stripping life down to what truly matters. They teach you what strength really looks like. They teach you who stays. They teach you how deeply you need God.

And through my own crazy, beautiful health journey, there are two words I have learned to live by:

Keep Going.

Not because every day is easy.
Not because every prayer gets answered overnight.
Not because fear magically disappears.

But because God is still God in the middle of the struggle.

Sometimes “keep going” looks heroic.
Sometimes it looks like worship music playing softly in a hospital room.
Sometimes it looks like praying through tears.
Sometimes it looks like simply getting out of bed when my body wants to quit.

The world often celebrates dramatic victories, but heaven also sees the quiet endurance. The days when nobody applauds you for surviving. The moments when faith is not loud, but stubborn. The seasons where all you can do is whisper, “Jesus, help me make it through today.”

That still counts as faith.

Health journeys are strange because they are both painful and beautiful at the same time. Painful because suffering changes you. Beautiful because God meets you there in ways comfort never could.

When life is going well, it is easy to say God is good.
But when your body hurts, your plans collapse, your future feels uncertain, and you still choose to trust Him anyway — that kind of faith becomes refined like gold.

I have learned that healing is not always instant. Sometimes healing comes in layers. Sometimes God heals physically. Sometimes He heals emotionally. Sometimes He heals spiritually first while your body is still fighting a battle.

And sometimes the miracle is not that you escaped the storm.
Sometimes the miracle is that you did not lose your faith inside it.

“Keep going” became more than motivation for me. It became survival. It became worship. It became a declaration that sickness would not have the final word over my life.

Because Jesus always has the final word.

There were days I questioned everything. Days I was exhausted from being strong. Days where I wondered why the road felt so long. But every single time I thought I had reached the end of myself, God reminded me that His strength begins where mine ends.

That is the beauty of grace.

Grace carries you when your legs are weak.
Grace holds you together when your emotions fall apart.
Grace reminds you that your identity is not found in a diagnosis, limitation, or medical chart.

You are still loved.
You are still chosen.
You are still called.
You are still valuable.

The enemy wants suffering to make you bitter, isolated, and hopeless. But God can use suffering to make you compassionate, authentic, and deeply rooted in Him.

Some of the most powerful people I have ever met are people who have suffered deeply yet still carry kindness in their hearts. People who know pain but still choose love. People who understand weakness yet continue encouraging others.

That is real strength.

Maybe your own journey feels messy right now. Maybe you are waiting for test results, fighting chronic illness, battling exhaustion, or carrying silent struggles nobody else understands.

Keep going.

Even when progress feels slow.
Even when your prayers feel repetitive.
Even when fear tries to speak louder than faith.

Keep going because God is still writing your story.

One of the hardest lessons health struggles teach us is surrender. We like control. We like plans. We like certainty. But faith often grows strongest in uncertainty.

Sometimes God calms the storm.
Sometimes God calms His child while the storm still rages.

Either way, He remains faithful.

Looking back, I can honestly say this journey has changed me. It has forced me to slow down. It has humbled me. It has deepened my prayer life. It has made me appreciate small victories. It has taught me to stop taking ordinary days for granted.

And strangely enough, in the middle of all the pain, I have found beauty.

Beauty in quiet mornings with God.
Beauty in people showing up unexpectedly.
Beauty in learning that weakness is not failure.
Beauty in realizing that hope can still exist in hard places.

This crazy, beautiful journey has taught me that life is fragile, but faith is strong. Bodies may struggle, but God’s promises remain unshaken.

So if I could leave you with anything today, it would simply be these two words:

Keep Going.

Not because you have all the answers.
Not because you never feel afraid.
But because Jesus walks beside you every step of the way.

And sometimes the greatest testimony is not a person who never struggled.

Sometimes the greatest testimony is the person who went through the fire and still chose to trust God. ~OC

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Microwave Waiting

Today’s a new day! 

Waiting is one of the hardest parts of the Christian life. We pray. We cry out to God. We ask for direction, healing, provision, or restoration, and deep down we often expect an immediate answer. We live in a world of instant downloads, fast food, overnight shipping, and microwave solutions, so naturally we sometimes expect our prayers to work the same way.

We pray about a job and hope the phone rings tomorrow. 

We pray about a relationship and expect immediate reconciliation.


We pray about a health issue and long for instant healing.

And sometimes God does answer quickly. Sometimes doors swing wide open almost immediately. Sometimes healing comes fast, provision appears unexpectedly, and breakthrough arrives sooner than we imagined. Those moments remind us that God is powerful, loving, and fully able to move in an instant.

But other times… God’s timing feels like forever.

There are seasons when heaven seems quiet. Seasons where the prayer has been repeated hundreds of times. Seasons where tears have become part of the daily routine. In those moments, it can be tempting to believe God has forgotten us, ignored us, or moved on from our situation.

But the silence of God does not mean the absence of God.

Often, the waiting season is where God does some of His deepest work in us. While we are focused on the answer, God is focused on our heart. While we are praying for a destination, God is shaping our character during the journey.

Waiting teaches us trust.

Anyone can praise God when the answer comes quickly. But faith grows stronger when we continue trusting Him before we see the outcome. Waiting teaches perseverance. It teaches surrender. It teaches us to seek God not only for what He can give us, but simply for who He is.

Sometimes God delays the answer because He is protecting us. Sometimes He is preparing us. Sometimes He is arranging circumstances we cannot yet see. And sometimes He wants us to learn to hear His voice more clearly in the quiet place of dependence.

The Bible is filled with people who had to wait.

The Book of Psalms is full of cries from David asking, “How long, O Lord?” Abraham waited years for God’s promise. Joseph waited through betrayal and prison before stepping into purpose. Even the disciples had to wait after the resurrection before the Holy Spirit came at Pentecost.

The waiting was never wasted.

Neither is yours.

If you are praying today for a job, a relationship, healing, direction, or peace, do not give up because the answer has not arrived yet. Keep pressing in. Keep praying. Keep opening God’s Word. Keep worshiping when it is hard. Keep listening for His voice.

Sometimes God speaks through open doors.
Sometimes He speaks through closed doors.
And sometimes He speaks through the waiting itself.

Do not let delay destroy your faith. God is still working even when you cannot yet see the evidence. A seed underground looks invisible before it becomes a harvest.

God’s timing is not microwave timing. It is holy timing.

And when the answer finally comes, you may discover that the greatest miracle was not simply what God did for you, but what He did inside of you while you waited. ~OC

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The Empty Road

Today’s a new day! Over the last few months, I have written a collection of short stories entitled “Miles That Still Matter.” I thought I would share one with you today. ~OC

Every morning at 5:00 a.m., Ed still woke up before sunrise.

For twenty years, he had laced up his running shoes before the world stirred awake. Marathons had shaped his life. He knew the quiet roads, the rhythm of breath, the ache in his legs at mile twenty-two, and the victory of crossing finish lines.

But now the shoes sat untouched beside the door.

A neurological condition had changed everything.

“Maybe tomorrow,” he whispered every morning, though he knew tomorrow would not come.

One chilly Florida morning, Ed sat on his porch with a cup of coffee, listening to a Carolina Wren sing from the oak tree nearby. His neighbor, Marcus, walked by slowly with his dog.

“Haven’t seen you running lately,” Marcus said carefully.

Ed forced a smile. “Doctors say those days are over.”

Marcus nodded awkwardly. “That’s rough.”

For a long moment, neither man spoke.

Then Ed quietly said, “You know what marathon running taught me?”

“What’s that?”

“That life isn’t won in the fast miles. It’s won in the hard ones.”

Marcus looked at him curiously.

Ed continued, “Anybody can run downhill with fresh legs. But when your body screams to quit and you keep going anyway—that’s where character shows up.”

Marcus stared at the ground.

“My wife left last month,” he admitted. “I honestly don’t know how to keep going.”

Ed leaned back in his chair.

“In a marathon,” he said, “you never focus on all twenty-six miles. You just look for the next step. Jesus works that way too. He doesn’t always give us the whole roadmap. Sometimes He just says, ‘Walk with Me to the next mile marker.’”

Marcus wiped his eyes.

That morning, Ed realized something.

He could no longer run races.

But he could still help weary people finish theirs.

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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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