Tag: Strength

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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Real Talk

Today’s a new day! 

I’m gonna be real with you. 

Lately, I have hit a wall physically, mentally and emotionally. 

Some days the weight just stacks up heavier than usual, and you feel it in places nobody can see.

But I want you to hear this clearly: 

Hitting a wall doesn’t mean you’re defeated. 

It means you’ve been running hard. 

It means you care. 

It means you’re human.

I am learning that even strong faith-filled people have moments where they need to sit down, catch their breath, and let God hold the weight for a minute. 

I’m doing that right now, resting my mind, leaning on prayer, and letting the people who truly love me love me.

If you’re reading this and you’ve hit your own wall lately- emotionally, spiritually, mentally- don’t beat yourself up. 

Take a Pause. 

Take a Breath.

Don’t be afraid to Reach Out for help.

You don’t have to power through this life alone.

I am grateful for every prayer, every message, every ounce of encouragement family, friends and strangers have sent my way. 

It truly carries me on days when the race feels overwhelming. 

Today, I am:

Still Standing.

Still Believing.

Still Pushing Through. 

Still Running the Race. 

Still Thankful.

Still Blessed. 

I pray everyone has a beautiful and blessed day. ~OC

***If you would like to hear the Spoken Word version of this post, check it out at my YouTube channel Todd E. Shoemaker Music.

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Beyond the Chaos

Today’s a new day! My heart breaks for America,

Turn on the news and all I see is chaos,

A country divided, fractured and torn.

I don’t care if you voted left, right, or somewhere in between,

If your heart’s not breaking for the hurt and pain we see,

You might need to check your pulse and see if you’re still alive.

We scream and we shout, we dig in our heels,

But the truth is, we’re dying, we’re losing our way.

We’re so busy building walls, we’re forgetting to build bridges,

We’re so busy pointing fingers, we’re forgetting to hold hands.

Dear God, please help America come together,

Put away our differences, and actually live

Like the United States of America.

Help us see the humanity in each other,

Help us hear the cries of the broken and the pain.

Help us love like You loved, with a love that’s radical and true,

A love that unites, a love that heals, a love that’s new.

We need a revival, a awakening,

A return to compassion, to empathy, to love.

We need to see each other, not as enemies, but as brothers and sisters,

United in our struggles, in our hopes, in our dreams.

Let’s rise up, let’s rise above,

The noise, the hate, the fear, the pride.

Let’s be the change, let’s be the love,

That America needs, that the world needs, that we all need today. ~OC

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Finding Purpose In The Pause

Lately, I’ve been getting a few messages asking how I’m doing, and how I spend my days. Honestly, it’s a bit of a challenge, but I continue to find beauty in the struggle. As I navigate this crazy beautiful journey with multiple health issues, I am reminded that life is not easy. It’s a little harder getting around these days, so I spend most of my days at home. 

My health journey is a rollercoaster, and it’s okay to admit that it’s tough. Some days are better than others. But my constant desire is to walk closer with God every day and to connect with other people. Trying to put my thoughts together to write these days is much harder, but God helps me through,  because it’s my way of connecting with people and letting those who are struggling know they’re not alone. If I didn’t share, I’d be stuck in silence, alone and that’s a lonely place to be.

My days are pretty simple. I spend most of my time in prayer, trying to write and read when my body allows. It’s not glamorous, but it’s my reality. And you know what?  I am learning to find purpose in the pause, to cherish the quiet moments, and to share my story with others who might be walking a similar path.

I am not writing this for sympathy or to complain. I’m writing this to remind society, that people walking through health battles still need and want to connect with others. I am the same person I have always been, just a little slower. But my story isn’t over yet. And I want people walking through their own storms, to know that you’re seen, you’re heard, you’re loved and you’re not alone. 

As I continue on this journey, I’m grateful for the few friends who have decided to stick around, even when life gets hard.  And to those who’ve disappeared, I am doing my best to understand why. But I am learning to cherish the ones who stay and to find joy in the connections we have made along the way.

If you’re struggling, know that you’re not alone. Keep writing, keep praying, and keep pushing forward. And if you need someone to talk to, I am a phone call away. Let’s connect and walk this journey together. ~OC

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