Tag: Strength

Hope In The Chaos

Today’s a new day! 

The world today often feels overwhelming. News headlines highlight conflict, uncertainty, and division, and many people carry personal struggles that add to the sense of chaos around us. As Christians, however, we are reminded that our hope is not rooted in the changing circumstances of the world but in the unchanging character of God. Scripture continually points us to the truth that even when the world feels unstable, God remains faithful. Living with hope means trusting that His plans are greater than the challenges we see and that His presence walks with us through every season.

Christian hope is not simply optimism; it is confidence grounded in God’s promises. Through Jesus Christ, we are given the assurance that darkness will never overcome the light. When chaos surrounds us, hope calls us to remember that God is still at work, bringing redemption and restoration in ways we may not always immediately see. Prayer, Scripture, and fellowship with other believers help anchor our hearts when fear and uncertainty try to take hold.

Living with hope also means becoming a reflection of Christ to others. In a world that often feels discouraged and weary, believers have the opportunity to demonstrate peace, compassion, and faith. Small acts of love, words of encouragement, and a steady trust in God’s goodness can shine brightly in difficult times. When we choose hope, we not only strengthen our own faith but also help point others toward the source of true and lasting hope.

Even in a chaotic world, the promises of God remain steady. Our hope rests in Christ, who reminds us that He has overcome the world and that His love will never fail. By keeping our hearts focused on Him, we can live each day with courage, peace, and the quiet confidence that God is still writing a greater story. ~OC

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Facing Your Giants

Today’s a new day! 

Every morning on this crazy, beautiful health journey, I’m faced with a decision. I can wake up and allow the giants called my health issues to define me and dictate the direction of my day, or I can choose something greater. I can face those giants head on by placing them in God’s hands and trusting that His plan is bigger than my fears, my pain, and my uncertainty. Some days the giants feel loud and overwhelming, but faith reminds me that they are never bigger than the God who walks beside me.

So today, I choose to fight. I choose to be the warrior Jesus created me to be. I refuse to live like a person who is dying when God has filled me with life, purpose, and strength. I am a person very much alive, with a lot of fight left in me. Every step forward—no matter how small—is a declaration that hope is still winning. God didn’t create us to surrender to fear; He created us to stand firm in faith and trust Him in the battle.

As you face your own giants today—whether they are health struggles, fear, loss, or uncertainty—I pray you will place them in God’s hands and let Him fight for you. You don’t have to carry every burden alone. When we release our battles to Him, we find strength we didn’t know we had and peace that only He can provide. Stay focused on His promises. Stay strong in your faith. And keep running your race knowing that through Him, you are running in victory. ~OC

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

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Not Random

Today’s a new day! The season you’re walking through right now isn’t random. Even if it feels confusing, slow, or painful, it has not caught God by surprise. Every moment of this season is being allowed for a reason. God is intentional with the paths He permits us to walk, and nothing in your life is wasted in His hands. What feels like delay may actually be preparation. What feels like loss may be the very ground where God is building deeper faith, stronger character, and greater dependence on Him. When we trust that God is working behind the scenes, we begin to see that even the difficult seasons carry purpose.

Sometimes God allows us to walk through certain seasons so He can shape us into who we are meant to become. Growth rarely happens in comfort. It often happens in the quiet waiting, the unanswered questions, and the moments when we must rely fully on Him. In these seasons, God is teaching us to trust His timing, to strengthen our faith, and to draw closer to His presence. The very season that feels uncertain today may become the testimony you share tomorrow.

So if this season feels heavy or unclear, remember that God does nothing without purpose. He is working through every detail, even the ones you don’t yet understand. Trust that this season is not the end of your story—it is a chapter of preparation. God is using it to position you, refine you, and lead you into the plans He has already set in motion for your life. Stay faithful, stay hopeful, and remember that the God who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it. ~OC

You can listen to 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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The Gospel

I never want the Gospel to grow old in my heart. I never want it to become background noise—familiar words that pass by without weight or wonder. The message at the center of the Christian faith is not just a story I heard once in Sunday school; it is the living, breathing good news of Jesus Christ—His life, His sacrifice, and His resurrection. It is the reminder that grace was never earned, only given. That mercy met me at my worst. That love chose the cross anyway. When I think about it, really think about it, I’m undone. The Gospel is not basic. It is not entry-level Christianity. It is the foundation, the heartbeat, the reason any of this matters at all.

If I am not careful, familiarity can tempt my heart toward callousness. I can quote verses without trembling. I can sing worship songs without reflecting on the cost. I can speak about the cross as a concept instead of remembering it as a rescue. But the Gospel was never meant to be reduced to routine. It is the power of God to save, to transform, to renew weary souls. It confronts my pride and comforts my shame at the same time. It reminds me that I am more sinful than I want to admit and more loved than I dare to hope.

I never want to outgrow what saved me. I never want to move past the wonder that God would step into human history, bear human suffering, and conquer death so that we could be reconciled to Him. The message of the cross should still stop me in my tracks. It should still soften my heart. It should still bring me to gratitude. If the Gospel ever feels small to me, it is not because it has lost its power—it is because I have lost my perspective. So I pray for fresh awe. I pray for tender ground in my soul. Because the Gospel is not old news. It is eternal good news, and I never want to treat it as anything less. ~OC

***You can listen to the Spoken Word of this post at my YouTube channel 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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Where’s The Iron?

Today’s a new day. And before I say anything else, I want to say thank you to the very few friends who have stayed by my side during this crazy, beautiful health journey. You know who you are. You are definitely in the minority. Your texts, your calls, your presence — not just your emojis — have meant more than you’ll ever know. It’s both funny and heartbreaking how someone can be celebrated as the “flavor of the month” for a season in the Christian community, applauded, platformed, and praised… yet the moment that same person enters a difficult health season, many quietly disappear. Some walk away from the responsibility to love and care as quickly as you can say, “Bless your heart, I’ll be praying for you.”

I’ve seen this especially in Christian men’s circles. Brotherhood is preached. Loyalty is applauded. Accountability is emphasized. But when things get uncomfortable — when illness lingers, when strength looks like weakness, when there’s nothing flashy or impressive to celebrate — friendships often fade. A thumbs up on a post. Prayer hands in a text. Maybe an occasional visit to check a box. And while those gestures aren’t meaningless, they’re not the fullness of brotherhood either. I’m not writing this from a place of anger. I’m writing from disappointment. There’s a difference. Disappointment comes from believing we can do better — that we’re called to do better.

Over the years, I’ve sat in countless men’s Bible studies where words like “iron sharpens iron” and “we’re in this together” are boldly proclaimed. Yet consistent, sacrificial friendship — the kind that shows up over and over again — is rare. And I share this not just for myself, but for the many brothers silently carrying their own battles. Health struggles. Mental strain. Financial pressure. Family heartbreak. So many men are walking through something and feel like they’re walking alone. That shouldn’t be the testimony of the Church.

I truly pray no one ever has to walk the specific health road I’m on. But if you ever do face your own long night, I pray you don’t just receive words — I pray you feel presence. I pray you’re surrounded by brothers who stay. Brothers who check in consistently. Brothers who sit in silence when needed. Brothers who don’t vanish when the spotlight fades.

Today’s a new day. And maybe this is a call for all of us — myself included — to love deeper, stay longer, and live out the brotherhood we so easily preach about.

Thanks for taking the time to read this. May the love and peace of God rest upon each of you. ~OC

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The Power of Prayer

Today’s a new day!  Prayer is more than a ritual or a religious routine—it is a lifeline. In the middle of ordinary days filled with deadlines, doctor appointments, family responsibilities, and unexpected challenges, prayer anchors us. It recenters our hearts when the world feels chaotic and reminds us that we are not navigating life alone. Through prayer, we exchange anxiety for peace, confusion for clarity, and weakness for strength. It doesn’t always change our circumstances immediately, but it changes us—our perspective, our endurance, and our hope.

The power of prayer is found in its consistency. Daily prayer builds spiritual resilience the same way daily exercise builds physical strength. When we make space each morning to seek God, we begin the day aligned rather than reactive. When we pause in the afternoon to whisper a quiet prayer, we invite wisdom into our decisions. When we end the night in gratitude, we train our hearts to see blessings even in hardship. Prayer shapes our character, softens our responses, and deepens our trust.

Prayer also connects us to something greater than ourselves. It reminds us that our struggles are seen, our tears are counted, and our victories are celebrated in heaven. In moments when we feel isolated, prayer assures us that God is near. In seasons of pain, it becomes a place of refuge. In times of joy, it becomes an overflow of thanksgiving. Over time, prayer transforms from something we do into a way we live—an ongoing conversation with a faithful God who walks with us through every valley and every mountaintop.

In our daily lives, prayer is power—not because of eloquent words or perfect phrases, but because of the One who hears. And when we learn to lean into that power, we discover that even the smallest prayer can carry us through the biggest battles. ~OC

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

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