Tag: Truth

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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I Cried Out

There are moments in the life of a believer when words fail, when sermons feel too small, and when the only honest response left is tears. Recently, I found myself bowed low on my knees before God, overwhelmed by a grief so deep it felt impossible to fully explain. It was not grief over politics, culture, or the chaos of the world alone. It was grief over the condition of the global Church, especially here in America.

As I prayed, tears streamed down my face. Not tears of hopelessness, but tears of burden. Tears born from the realization that we are living in a critical hour, yet so many believers seem spiritually asleep.

The Church in America has more platforms, more buildings, more resources, and more influence than many generations before us ever dreamed of. Yet somehow, in the middle of abundance, we have often lost our hunger for the presence of God. We have mastered performance while neglecting prayer. We have learned how to build crowds while forgetting how to carry the cross. We have polished the image of Christianity while starving for genuine holiness.

And still, God is calling.

Even now, Heaven is extending mercy.

Even now, the Spirit of God is crying out to awaken His people.

I believe we are standing at a crossroads. One path leads toward comfort, compromise, and spiritual numbness. The other leads toward repentance, purification, surrender, and revival. The frightening reality is that many do not realize the urgency of the moment we are living in. Time is moving quickly. Eternity is drawing near. The hour is late.

The world does not need another watered-down gospel designed to entertain people while leaving them unchanged. The world needs a Church burning with holiness, truth, compassion, humility, and power. It needs believers who are not ashamed of Jesus. It needs disciples willing to pray when nobody is watching, obey when it is unpopular, and love when it costs something.

God is not looking for perfect people. He is looking for surrendered people.

Throughout Scripture, awakening always began the same way: with brokenness. Before revival came repentance. Before restoration came humility. Before God moved publicly, His people first wept privately.

Perhaps that is why the burden feels so heavy right now.

Because deep down, many believers sense that we cannot continue playing games with God. We cannot keep treating the holy things of Heaven casually. We cannot keep building our own kingdoms while neglecting His. We cannot keep blending in with a dying world while claiming to carry the light of Christ.

Jesus did not call us to cultural Christianity. He called us to die to ourselves and follow Him fully.

This is the hour for the Church to return to prayer.

Return to holiness.

Return to the Word of God.

Return to compassion.

Return to reverence.

Return to the secret place.

Return to our first love.

I believe God is shaking everything that can be shaken, not to destroy His people, but to awaken them. Some trust in personalities, platforms, politics, or programs, but none of those things can save us. Our hope has never been in human strength. Our hope is and always will be Jesus Christ.

The answer for America is not found in louder opinions. The answer is repentance and revival. 

The answer is the Church becoming the Church again.

So today, I continue to pray through tears:

“Lord, awaken us again. Purify Your Bride. Burn away every distraction, every idol, every compromise, and every counterfeit thing living inside of us. Teach us to fear You again. Teach us to love what You love. Refocus our hearts on eternity. Let revival begin in us first.”

May we not waste this hour.

May we not sleep through this moment.

May we not stand before God one day realizing we were too distracted by temporary things to pursue what mattered most.

Time is running out.

But the mercy of God is still calling His people home. ~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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The Kingdom

Today’s a new day! I want to share a poem I wrote a few years ago. It’s entitled “The Kingdom.” ~OC

They can empty my pockets,
strip the paint from my name,
close doors in my face
and leave me standing in the cold of rejection.

They can take the title,
the comfort,
the applause of crowds
that fade like smoke in the wind.

They can break my body with sickness,
bury my dreams beneath ashes,
and tell me I am forgotten.

But there is one thing
this world will never touch.

It cannot steal the crown
prepared by nail-scarred hands.
It cannot silence the promise
spoken by the risen King.
It cannot chain eternity,
cannot lock Heaven’s gates,
cannot erase my name
written in the Book of Life.

For my treasure is not built
from the dust of this earth.
My hope is not hanging
on the fragile thread of tomorrow.
My inheritance is guarded
beyond the reach of thieves,
beyond the power of kingdoms,
beyond the grave itself.

So let the storms come.
Let mountains crumble
and fortunes disappear.
Let the world take all it can carry.

Because when the final shadow falls,
I will still stand redeemed,
still held by mercy,
still clothed in grace.

The world may take everything from me,
but it cannot take away
the Kingdom of Heaven from me.

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The Water Station

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 another one with you today. ~OC

The church hosted a community 5K every spring.

For years, Ed had been one of the lead runners. Now he volunteered at the water station near mile two.

At first, he hated it.

Watching runners glide past felt like torture.

But halfway through the race, a teenage boy stopped near the table, bent over, exhausted.

“I can’t do this,” the boy gasped.

Ed handed him water.

“What’s your name?”

“Eli.”

“First race?”

The boy nodded.

Ed smiled. “You know the biggest lie in distance running?”

Eli shrugged.

“That strong runners never struggle.”

Ed pointed down the road.

“The best runners in the world hit walls. They cramp. They doubt themselves. The difference is they keep moving.”

Eli looked unconvinced.

Ed continued, “That’s true spiritually too. 

Following Jesus doesn’t mean you never get tired. It means you keep turning toward Him when you are.”

The starting horn echoed faintly in the distance behind them.

Ed said softly, “The cross was uphill too.”

Eli stood quietly for a moment.

Then he took another cup of water.

“I think I can finish.”

Ed grinned.

“One mile at a time.”

As Eli jogged away, Ed realized something holy:

God had taken him off the racecourse so he could stand at the water station for hurting souls.

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On This National Day Of Prayer

The National Day of Prayer is more than a date on a calendar. It is a reminder that prayer is not supposed to be our last resort, but our first response. Across churches, homes, schools, hospitals, and communities, believers gather to pray for healing, wisdom, revival, peace, and direction. Yet the true challenge for the Christian community is not simply whether we pray publicly for one day, but whether we genuinely believe that God still hears and answers prayer every single day. Scripture reminds us in James 5:16 that “the prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.” Those are not symbolic words. They are a promise from God Himself. Too often Christians speak about prayer while secretly battling doubt in their hearts, praying out of routine instead of expectation. But throughout the Bible, prayer moved mountains, opened prison doors, healed the sick, and changed entire nations because people truly believed God was listening.

Living out His Scriptures means more than quoting verses on social media or hearing sermons on Sunday mornings. It means becoming people who actually trust God enough to walk in obedience after we pray. When we pray for peace, we must become peacemakers. When we pray for revival, we must repent and pursue holiness ourselves. When we pray for the hurting, we must be willing to love, serve, and encourage them. Jesus never called believers to have a shallow faith built only on words. He called us to a living faith that produces action, compassion, courage, and transformation. In Mark 11:24, Jesus said, “Whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.” The Christian community must return to praying with faith, expectation, and surrender, knowing that God is still moving even when answers do not arrive on our timeline.

This National Day of Prayer can become more than a tradition if believers truly unite with humble hearts before God. Imagine what could happen if Christians stopped praying powerless prayers filled with fear and started praying bold prayers filled with faith. Imagine churches becoming known not for division or performance, but for love, healing, truth, and the presence of God. The world does not need Christians who only talk about Scripture; it needs believers who live it out daily. Prayer changes things, but prayer also changes us. When we seek God sincerely, He shapes our hearts to reflect His heart. And perhaps that is where revival truly begins — not merely in crowded gatherings, but in believers who genuinely trust God, obey His Word, and live as evidence that Jesus Christ is alive and still working today. ~OC

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The Limp of Faith, The Swagger of Grace

Today’s a new day!

When we truly surrender to Jesus, we often imagine peace, clarity, and a smoother path ahead—and in many ways, that’s true. But surrender also places us on a road that runs against the grain of the world. To live out His teachings, to walk in truth, grace, and conviction, is to stand in contrast to a culture that often resists both. Jesus never hid this reality. He made it clear that following Him would come with a cost—misunderstanding, rejection, and even ridicule. And yet, that cost is not a sign that something has gone wrong; it’s often evidence that something has gone right.

There will be moments when obedience feels lonely, when doing the right thing makes you the target instead of the example. People may question your choices, mock your faith, or walk away because your life reflects something they don’t understand or don’t want to confront. In those moments, it’s tempting to shrink back, to soften the message, or to blend in just enough to avoid the discomfort. But surrender isn’t partial—it’s whole. And walking with Jesus means continuing forward, even when the path is steep and the crowd thins out.

So if you find yourself walking through seasons of resistance, don’t stop walking. Even if you walk with a limp—wounded by words, weary from the journey, or burdened by the weight of it all—keep moving. God has never required perfection; He honors perseverance. A limp doesn’t disqualify you, it testifies that you’ve been in the fight and you’re still standing. Your faith is not proven in comfort, but in your willingness to keep going when it would be easier to quit.

And as you walk, walk with a spiritual swagger—not arrogance, but confidence rooted in who you belong to. There’s a quiet boldness that comes from knowing your identity is secure in Christ. It’s the kind of confidence that doesn’t need validation from the world because it’s anchored in eternal truth. You don’t have to shout to be strong. Sometimes the strongest statement you can make is simply refusing to turn back.

So walk on. Walk through the criticism, through the doubt, through the isolation if it comes. Walk with humility, but also with authority. Walk with grace, but also with conviction. And whether your steps are steady or uneven, take them knowing that Jesus walks with you—every step, every stumble, every victory. ~OC

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A Warning

Today’s a new day! 

Jesus didn’t spend the majority of His warnings confronting the broken, the wandering, or the openly sinful. Instead, His strongest rebukes were directed at those who stood on the inside—those who knew the language of faith, who held positions of influence, and who used religion as a tool for personal gain. Again and again, He challenged the religious leaders of His day not because they lacked knowledge, but because they had weaponized it. They had turned what was meant to be a pathway to God into a system of control, burdening people with rules while neglecting mercy, justice, and humility. His words were not casual corrections—they were urgent warnings about the danger of a hardened heart hidden behind spiritual appearance.

This truth should cause us to pause and reflect, not on “them,” but on ourselves. It’s easy to point at hypocrisy in others, but Jesus invites us to examine our own motives. Are we using faith to serve, or to be seen? Are we building others up, or subtly controlling, judging, and elevating ourselves? The heart of the Gospel is not about power or performance—it’s about surrender, love, and transformation. Jesus welcomed outsiders with open arms, but He confronted insiders who had lost the heart of God while keeping the form of religion. That same call echoes today: to lay down pride, reject manipulation, and return to a faith that is marked by authenticity, compassion, and a genuine love for God and people. ~OC

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A Calling. A Challenge

Today’s a new day!

There are moments when numbers stop being statistics and start becoming something deeply personal. Right now is one of those moments.

Roughly 3 to 3.4 billion people in the world have had little to no access to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. That’s about 40–42% of the global population. Take a moment and really sit with that. Those aren’t just figures on a page. Each number represents a life. A story. A soul created with purpose, longing for truth, searching for hope—whether they realize it yet or not.

It’s easy to feel overwhelmed by a number that large. It can seem distant, like a problem too big for any one person to impact. But the Gospel has never spread because of massive systems alone—it has always moved from person to person, heart to heart, conversation to conversation. And that brings the reality closer than we might be comfortable admitting. 

Because at some point, it becomes personal.

Many of us know the quiet tension that rises when we feel prompted to share our faith. The hesitation. The inner dialogue. What if they reject me? What if they think I’m strange? What if I say the wrong thing? Fear of rejection and ridicule can be powerful enough to silence even the most sincere believer.

But here’s the question we have to wrestle with: what are we more concerned about—the temporary discomfort of being rejected, or the eternal reality that we might be the only person who ever shares Jesus with that individual?

That shifts everything.

We often assume someone else will step in. Someone more equipped, more confident, more eloquent. But what if there is no one else? What if the opportunity in front of you isn’t random, but intentional? A divine appointment placed in your path for a reason?

Jesus didn’t call His followers to comfort—He called them to purpose. He didn’t promise that every conversation would be easy or well received, but He did make it clear that every soul matters. His love is not meant to be contained; it’s meant to be shared. Boldly. Compassionately. Authentically.

And sharing doesn’t always look like standing on a stage or having all the right answers. Sometimes it looks like a simple conversation. A testimony. A moment of kindness that opens the door to something deeper. Sometimes it’s just being willing—available to be used.

The world is searching. Beneath the noise, the distractions, and the brokenness, there is a deep hunger for hope and truth. The message of Jesus is still life-changing. Still healing. Still the answer.

So the question remains: what will we do with the opportunity in front of us?

Will we allow fear to keep us silent, or will we step forward in faith, trusting that God can use even our imperfect words? Will we focus on how we might be perceived, or on the eternal impact a single conversation could have?

Every day presents moments that matter more than we realize. Moments where eternity brushes up against the ordinary. Moments where a simple act of obedience can ripple far beyond what we can see.

Those billions of people aren’t just “out there.” They are closer than we think—in our communities, our workplaces, our daily routines.

And maybe, just maybe, one of them is waiting for someone like you to speak up. ~OC

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