Category Archives: Previous Post

From the Archives: SEVEN LOADED LETTERS, Part 3: The Church that Would Not Bow

Read Revelation 2:8–11

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“God blesses you when people mock you and persecute you… Be happy about it! Be very glad! For a great reward awaits you in heaven.” (Matthew 5:11–12 NLT)

The Book of Revelation opens not with beasts or bowls, but with a voice—a call that echoes through time and space to a Church both ancient and present. These seven letters, delivered to communities scattered across Asia Minor, are more than historical artifacts. They are loaded with truth, urgency, and love. They speak to us, challenge us, and strip away illusions. In every age, Christ’s words to the Church still ask us to listen—and respond.

Image: AI-generated using OpenAI’s DALL·E and customized by the author. Used with the devotional “The Church That Would Not Bow” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

Part 3: The Church That Would Not Bow. A student feels upset that their public school no longer begins the day with prayer. They feel overlooked. Marginalized. Like God has been pushed out. It’s not uncommon to hear words like oppression or persecution thrown around in moments like this. But is that what’s really happening? The truth is, this isn’t persecution. It’s a society trying to ensure that no one is forced to worship a God they don’t believe in. That student is still free to pray—just not to compel others. What they’re grieving isn’t persecution; it’s lost dominance. And there’s a difference.

Our ancestors once knew the difference. The Pilgrims fled England because they were truly persecuted—jailed, silenced, and threatened for their nonconformity to the official state religion. They weren’t looking to gain power; they were seeking freedom. It’s ironic, then, how far we’ve drifted from that clarity. Somewhere along the line, we confused discomfort with the cross.

One of my favorite bands, Demon Hunter, captured this in their song Cross to Bear (from the album Extremist), where Ryan Clark growls with righteous fire: “Not one of you bastards has a cross to bear.” It’s a rebuke to the self-victimization we too easily cloak in Christian language. He wasn’t mocking the faith—he was confronting the ways we’ve co-opted the imagery of suffering without actually enduring it.

But Jesus never confused the two.

To the church in Smyrna—a community crushed by poverty, targeted by slander, and facing imminent suffering—Jesus says, “I know.” He doesn’t rebuke them. He doesn’t correct them. He comforts them. “Do not be afraid of what you are about to suffer.” Smyrna didn’t lose privilege; they risked their lives. And still, they held fast.

They are not alone. In 2023, nearly 5,000 Christians were killed in Nigeria simply because they dared to worship Christ. Targeted by extremist groups like Boko Haram and ISWAP, as well as Fulani militants, Christians were gunned down in their homes, kidnapped from churches, and displaced in massive numbers. Some lost their families. Others lost everything. And yet, like Smyrna, they did not bow. They held fast to a faith that cost them dearly. (Source: New York Post, Sept. 3, 2024)

This is persecution. And this is what Jesus prepared us for—not entitlement, but endurance. Not comfort, but courage. He didn’t promise an easy path. He promised presence. He didn’t offer security. He offered a crown. And remember—his crown was made of thorns, not gold.

So when the Church today cries out over cultural discomforts, we must ask: are we really being persecuted—or are we simply being pruned?

Faith that costs nothing is often worth just as much.

Jesus calls the church in Smyrna to faithfulness, not fear. To endurance, not escape. And to a crown that isn’t gold, but glory. “Be faithful, even to the point of death, and I will give you life as your victor’s crown.” This is not a call to chase suffering—but to hold fast when it finds us. And to remember our sisters and brothers around the world who already wear the marks of Christ—not metaphorically, but literally.

Let us be a Church that remembers what persecution really is—and a people who will not bow to fear.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
True persecution is not the loss of cultural comfort but the endurance of suffering for unwavering faith.

PRAYER
Lord, give us clarity to name what is—and isn’t—persecution. Forgive us when we’ve mistaken loss of power for loss of faith. Strengthen those who suffer for your name today, and give us the courage to stand with them. Help us remain faithful—even when it costs. Amen.


Devotion written by Rev. Todd R. Lattig with the assistance of ChatGPT (OpenAI).

From the Archives: SEVEN LOADED LETTERS, Part 2: The Church that Forgot to Love

Read Revelation 2:1-7

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“If I had the gift of prophecy, and if I understood all of God’s secret plans and possessed all knowledge… but didn’t love others, I would be nothing” (1 Corinthians 13:2 NLT).

The Book of Revelation opens not with beasts or bowls, but with a voice—a call that echoes through time and space to a Church both ancient and present. These seven letters, delivered to communities scattered across Asia Minor, are more than historical artifacts. They are loaded with truth, urgency, and love. They speak to us, challenge us, and strip away illusions. In every age, Christ’s words to the Church still ask us to listen—and respond.

Part 2: The Church That Forgot to Love. You can do everything right and still get it wrong. That’s the jarring truth behind Jesus’ message to the church in Ephesus. From the outside, they were the gold standard—hard-working, discerning, theologically sound, intolerant of falsehood. They didn’t just show up; they held the line. But Jesus isn’t handing out gold stars. He sees past the polish. And what he sees is heartbreaking: a church that has forgotten how to love.

“You have forsaken the love you had at first.” It’s a short sentence, but it shakes the foundation. This isn’t just about losing personal passion for Jesus—it’s about losing the communal warmth that once defined them. Love for Christ and love for each other are tied together in ways we can’t unravel. Maybe division had crept in. Maybe trust had frayed. Maybe bitterness had settled in over disagreements and differences. Whatever the reason, their love had cooled. They were still doing the work, still holding the line—but doing it with hearts growing cold and disconnected. And when love freezes inside the church, it bleeds out into everything else: worship, outreach, justice, mission. A loveless church might still look active, but its light dims.

We’ve seen this before. Paul warned the Corinthians, “If I understood all of God’s secret plans and possessed all knowledge… but didn’t love others, I would be nothing” (1 Corinthians 13:2 NLT). Jesus warned the Pharisees, who tithed even their herbs but neglected “the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy, and faithfulness” (Matthew 23:23). And when asked to name the greatest commandment, Jesus answered without hesitation: Love the Lord your God… and love your neighbor as yourself (Matthew 22:37–39). These aren’t two loves. They are one way of life.

There’s a word for faithfulness without love. It’s not holiness—it’s hardness.

And it happens subtly. We get tired. We get jaded. We get protective. We start defining faith by how we’ve separated ourselves from the world instead of how we’ve embraced it in grace. We start using our convictions as a wall rather than a bridge. Over time, ministry becomes management, and righteousness becomes routine. And without realizing it, we become the kind of people who can quote Scripture and defend doctrine but no longer weep, no longer risk, no longer love.

Ephesus is a mirror for the modern Church. We’re busy. We’re active. We’re reactive. But are we still moved? Do we still burn with the love that first called us to Christ? Do we see people as image-bearers or as obstacles to truth? Do we correspond with compassion—or with contempt?

Jesus doesn’t say “you never loved.” He says, “you left it.” Which means it can be returned to. “Remember… repent… do the things you did at first.” The call isn’t to nostalgia. It’s to reorientation. To come back to the center. To let love lead again.

Because without it, we’re nothing.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
It’s possible to believe all the right things and still miss the heart of Christ. Love is not optional—it’s the starting point, the center, and the end goal of faith.

PRAYER
Lord Jesus, rekindle in us the love we once knew—the love for You, and for each other. Strip away our pride, our weariness, our guarded hearts. Help us to remember, repent, and return to the way of love, the way of You. Amen.


Devotion written by Rev. Todd R. Lattig with the assistance of ChatGPT (OpenAI).

From the Archives: SEVEN LOADED LETTERS, Part 1: Babylon Beneath Our Feet

Read Revelation 1:12–16

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“Go now, leave your bonds and slavery. Put Babylon behind you, with everything it represents, for it is unclean to you” (Isaiah 52:11 NLT)

The Book of Revelation opens not with beasts or bowls, but with a voice—a call that echoes through time and space to a Church both ancient and present. These seven letters, delivered to communities scattered across Asia Minor, are more than historical artifacts. They are loaded with truth, urgency, and love. They speak to us, challenge us, and strip away illusions. In every age, Christ’s words to the Church still ask us to listen—and respond.

Image: AI-generated using OpenAI’s DALL·E and customized by the author. Used with the devotional “Babylon Beneath Our Feet” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

Part 1: Babylon Beneath Our Feet. We walk through the world like fish swim through water—so immersed in it, we rarely notice what surrounds us.

When we think of Babylon, we imagine some far-off, ancient place—one we’d surely recognize if we saw it. But friends, Babylon rarely looks like Babylon. It looks like progress. It looks like security. It looks like a flag we can salute and a paycheck we can count on. Babylon is beneath our feet. It hides in the systems that seduce us with comfort and conformity. It thrives in the compromises we’ve been trained not to question. And if we’re honest, it stares back at us in the mirror.

Revelation doesn’t begin with monsters and wrath—it begins with a voice. A voice like a trumpet that calls John to turn. And when he turns, he sees not the horrors of empire but the glory of Christ. Hair white as wool. Eyes like flames. A sword from his mouth. A voice like rushing waters. A presence so holy it undoes him.

But notice what Christ is standing among: seven lampstands. The churches. The body of Christ, still present in the world, still called to reflect the light of God in a land that has forgotten what light looks like.

It’s easy to think Revelation is about somewhere else, somewhen else. But John’s vision is profoundly present-tense. It begins in worship, on the Lord’s Day, in exile. It begins where we are. And it begins with a hard truth: Christ is not absent. He is walking among the lampstands. He sees our fatigue, our wavering faith, our fear. He sees the cracks we cover with pious paint. And he speaks—not to condemn but to call.

“Come out from Babylon,” the prophets cried. Not with swords, but with faithfulness. Not with force, but with truth. Isaiah’s command to leave Babylon behind wasn’t about geography. It was about allegiance. About identity. About holiness.

That call echoes still.

Babylon beneath our feet means we must examine the foundation we’re standing on. Are we building on the words of Jesus—or the values of empire? Have we made peace with power, comfort, and control? Or are we willing to be disturbed, undone, reformed?

Revelation 1 isn’t just about the majesty of Jesus. It’s about his authority to speak to his Church. To us. Before we hear his words to Ephesus or Laodicea, we are invited to see him again. To hear him. And to let him read us.

The Church today faces many of the same seductions as the churches of Asia Minor did: cultural accommodation, spiritual apathy, misplaced identity, and the temptation to blend in rather than shine. But Christ walks among us still. And he speaks.

We don’t have to name Babylon to know it. We feel it. In the dissonance. In the headlines. In the gnawing pull between comfort and conviction. In the small voice that whispers: “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”

But Christ calls us not to despair, but to courage. Not to resignation, but to repentance. The lampstands remain. So does the fire.

So let us rise—not as keepers of comfort, but as bearers of the light.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
Babylon isn’t just out there—it’s beneath us, around us, within us. But so is Christ. And he still speaks. Are we willing to turn and listen?

PRAYER
Holy God, help us see the ways Babylon clings to our hearts and minds. Wake us from comfort and complacency. Give us ears to hear your voice, and the courage to follow—even when it costs us what we once called home. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

REVISITED: When the Music’s Over

Read Psalm 24

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“I brought you into a fertile land to eat its fruit and rich produce. But you came and defiled my land and made my inheritance detestable.” (Jeremiah 2:7, NLT)

Image: AI-generated using DALL·E and customized by the author. First used with the devotional “When the Music’s Over” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

Jim Morrison and The Doors have been a major artistic influence in my life. Jim’s introspective and often profound lyrics, his poetic brilliance, and his uncompromising willingness to confront death and darkness have deeply resonated with me. The Doors’ mind-bending and unique blend of music has left an indelible mark on my artistic sensibilities. Few artists have had a greater influence on me.

The title “When the Music’s Over” comes from The Doors’ powerful song that delivers an environmental message far ahead of its time. This phrase carries a sense of urgency and finality, much like the environmental crisis we face today. It prompts us to ask: What will be left when the music of nature falls silent?

In the song, Morrison’s haunting lyrics cry out, “What have they done to the Earth? What have they done to our fair sister?” This lament for our planet’s destruction echoes the sentiments expressed in Jeremiah 2:7, where God rebukes humanity for defiling the land He provided.

The Doors’ environmental awareness in 1967 was revolutionary, predating much of the mainstream environmental movement. Their call to action, “We want the world and we want it… Now!” resonates with the urgency we feel today about climate change and environmental degradation.

Psalm 24 provides a biblical foundation for this environmental concern. It begins by declaring, “The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it.” This fundamental truth reminds us that we are not owners of this planet, but stewards. God has entrusted us with the care of His creation, much like He placed Adam in the Garden of Eden to “work it and take care of it” (Genesis 2:15).

The Psalm goes on to ask, “Who may ascend the mountain of the Lord? Who may stand in his holy place?” The answer describes those with “clean hands and a pure heart.” In the context of environmental stewardship, we might ask ourselves: Are our hands clean in our treatment of God’s creation? Are our hearts pure in our motivations and actions towards the environment?

Jim Morrison’s lyrics paint a vivid picture of environmental destruction: “Ravaged and plundered and ripped her and bit her, Stuck her with knives in the side of the dawn, And tied her with fences and dragged her down.” This poetic description of Earth’s mistreatment stands in stark contrast to the reverence for creation expressed in Psalm 24.

The Psalm concludes with a powerful image of the “King of glory” entering. This reminds us that ultimately, God is in control and will bring about restoration. However, this doesn’t absolve us of our responsibility. Just as The Doors called for immediate action, we too are called to be active participants in caring for God’s creation.

As we reflect on Psalm 24, Jeremiah 2:7, and the prophetic environmental message of “When the Music’s Over,” we’re challenged to examine our role as stewards of God’s creation. Are we treating the Earth as something that belongs to us to exploit, or are we honoring it as God’s possession? Are we standing idly by as our “fair sister” is ravaged, or are we answering the call to action?

The environmental crisis we face today requires the same urgency and passion that Jim Morrison expressed over 50 years ago. It demands that we, as God’s people, live up to the standard set in Psalm 24 – with clean hands and pure hearts, actively working to protect and restore God’s creation.

Let us heed both the biblical mandate and the rock star’s lament. When it comes to caring for our planet, we must act before the music’s over – it’s time for us to join the song of creation care.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
God owns the Earth; we’re called to be its caretakers, not its exploiters.

PRAYER
Lord, give us clean hands and pure hearts to care for Your creation as faithful stewards. Amen.


Devotion written by Rev. Todd R. Lattig with the assistance of Perplexity AI.

From the Advent Archives: Why Advent?

Read Isaiah 11:1–9

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“I heard a loud shout from the throne, saying, ‘Look, God’s home is now among God’s people! God will live with them, and they will be God’s people. God Godself will be with them.’” (Revelation 21:3, NLT)

Image: AI-generated using DALL·E and customized by the author. Used with the devotional “From the Advent Archives: Why Advent?” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

Advent is one of my favorite times of year. While it is true that I am not a big fan of winter or its weather, I really love the season of Advent and the great hope that it stands for. Throughout the majority of Christian history, the Church has, in one way or another, celebrated the coming Christ. With that said, Christmas (aka the coming of the Christ-child) was not always celebrated by the Church. In fact, it was quite controversial early on and, in some Christian circles, it still is.

The Church didn’t officially recognize the “feast day” of Christ’s birth (what became known as Christ’s Mass, or Christmas) until the fourth century. When we look at the Gospels themselves, only two of the four canonical Gospels (Matthew and Luke) actually account for the birth of the Christ-child. The other two canonical Gospels (Mark and John) do not mention the birth of Christ at all. Mark begins with Jesus’ baptism, and John simply states that the Word of God became flesh as Jesus (John 1:14). They clearly did not feel there was a significant reason to include the Nativity story in their accounts.

So then, why Advent? Regardless of the fact that only two of the four Gospels include the Nativity story, each of the four Gospels contains the Advent story. In fact, the entire Bible is an Advent story. Advent, of course, means “the arrival of a notable person, thing, or event.” All of Scripture points toward Advent when you really think about it. All of Scripture points toward the advent—the arrival—of Immanuel, “God with us.”

From the first humans through the Exodus, from the age of kings through the prophets, from exile through Roman occupation, from the birth of Jesus through the resurrection, from the apostles through the age in which we now live, this world is SCREAMING for the advent of God’s Kingdom—the advent of hope, healing, wholeness, justice, mercy, compassion, and grace.

Why Advent? Because we live in a broken world filled with broken people like ourselves.
Why Advent? Because we live in a world filled with social injustice.
Why Advent? Because we live in a world where people pour lighter fluid down the throats of teenagers and set them on fire.
Why Advent? Because we live in a world where a few have everything and the majority have nothing.
Why Advent? Because we all play a part in the reality of sin.
Why Advent? Because we desire justice, long for mercy, and strive to live humbly.

Unfortunately, in our longing for Advent, we often miss a critically important point: Immanuel has already come.

GOD IS WITH US.
GOD IS WITHIN US.

While we certainly await the coming of God’s Kingdom in all its fullness, and while Scripture is deeply shaped by Advent longing, it also points us to the reality of God’s presence with us now—God’s love for us and God’s Spirit within us. The question, then, isn’t Why Advent?

The question is Why wait?

What are we waiting for? God desires that we recognize God’s presence with us now. We no longer need to lie in wait. We no longer need to sit and hope for a savior to come and rescue us. That Savior has already come, has never left, and has no intention of leaving. As long as people open themselves to God, the Savior will remain present in the world.

Jesus didn’t call us to wait, but to BE AWAKE. Jesus didn’t call us into waiting—Jesus sent the disciples, and sends us, into action. Instead of waiting, actively take part in showing the world that GOD IS ALREADY HERE

that GOD IS ALREADY WITH US

that LOVE WINS.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
How are you bringing the reality of Immanuel into the world around you

PRAYER
Lord, I am your vessel of hope, healing, and wholeness. Use me as a witness to your presence among all people. Amen.


© 2012 Rev. Todd R. Lattig. All rights reserved.
First published December 12, 2014.

From the Advent Archives: Where is the Justice?

Read Romans 12:15-21

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“Indeed, the LORD will give justice to his people…” (Deuteronomy 32:36a, NLT)

Image: AI-generated using DALL·E and customized by the author. Used with the devotional “From the Advent Archives: Where Is the Justice?” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

There come times in one’s life when it is realized that an act was far less timely in the moment it was committed to memory, and this is such a time. Eleven years ago, I saw the America I knew disintegrating—falling apart before my very eyes. Truthfully, we all did. Barack Obama was still president, a very consequential president, if not for anything else other than his race. Of course, he was consequential in many other ways too, but it was his race that would prove the most eye-opening for this country.

I grew up believing we lived in an America that was largely past racism. To be honest, I also grew up in an insular, small-town white bubble. What racism was I really exposed to? Plenty. But it was hidden in jokes, in what nuts were called, and in other subtleties that sound like normalities to people not on the receiving end of them. It ALWAYS bothered me, especially when I gave in and laughed or participated to “fit in.” Thankfully, I never got into the habit of it because I always disliked it. It made me uncomfortable. Why? Because I am an outcast too, and once you’ve been outcast for ANY reason, how can you then outcast others? It happens. But not on my watch.

What you are about to read is a devotion I published on December 5, 2014, in the wake of the acquittal decision in the Ferguson, MO / Michael Brown Jr. case. Now, more than ever, we can see that where we are today is not new, but something that had been brewing under the surface—where we like to keep things hidden.


In 1999, Mel Gibson starred in Payback, a 1950s-style crime thriller directed by Brian Helgeland. I say “1950s-style” because it had Mel Gibson narrating his own story in the kind of way you’d expect to see on the classic police show Dragnet. The twist is that Gibson’s character, Porter, is not a police officer, but a petty criminal who ends up being double-crossed by his former partner-in-crime and his estranged wife.

Porter had cheated on his wife who, to get back at him, joined forces with his partner to plot against him. They shoot him (with the intent of killing him) and steal $70,000 from him—money that he, no doubt, stole from someone else.

To make a long story short—and to do so without spoiling the gritty experience that the film is—Porter sets out to pay back (hence the film’s name) those who did him wrong. He wages a bloody and intense war on his former partner, his estranged wife, and eventually on the crime syndicate protecting them. By the end of the film you can’t help but wonder what justice, if any, was done. Still, it satisfies that inner need to see the “bad guy” get his in the end. Of course, Porter is a “bad guy” getting even with other “bad guys.” This is played up in the film’s slogan: Prepare to root for the bad guy.

There are times in our life when we feel we have been wronged by our family, our friends, our neighbors, and others. In those moments, we often cannot help but feel anger and the desire to get back at such people. Even when we aren’t seeking to get back at them ourselves, we wish that something would happen to them to “teach them a lesson.” We use terms like “karma” to express our wish for fate to slap them right where it counts—and, if possible, allow us to be there to witness it. I know that even while driving down the road, I have prayed that the person who cut me off would pass a police officer and get pulled over. I am sure I am not the only one who has prayed such a prayer.

We live in a world that sees REVENGE as justice. When things don’t go our way, when life seems unjust and no one seems to care that it is, we feel justified in taking things into our own hands and exacting our own brand of justice. In Ferguson, MO, for example, many protesters turned into rioters when they discovered that no charges were going to be brought against Officer Darren Wilson. As a result, a grieving family had to witness their son’s name being frivolously used to incite riots. Store owners and community members stood helplessly as they watched their neighborhoods burn. Innocent and peaceful protesters had to endure tear gas and fear for their lives, and police officers put their lives on the line to try and keep the situation under control.

Where’s the justice in all of that?

The fact is that our own brand of “justice” is often not justice at all. Revenge is not JUSTICE. Revenge is wrong, and it solves nothing. All it does is create more victims.

Image: AI-generated using DALL·E and customized by the author. Used with the devotional “From the Advent Archives: Where Is the Justice?” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

When I think of God’s justice, I think of a 2014 picture of an officer who, in the midst of protests in Portland, Oregon over the Michael Brown case, hugged a twelve-year-old boy who was crying because he saw the world around him falling apart. He was feeling the weight of the grand jury’s decision to acquit the officer involved in the shooting and was concerned about police brutality toward young Black kids such as himself. In response to seeing the boy crying, the officer asked him what was wrong and, when the boy told him, he asked if he could have one of the “FREE HUGS” the boy’s protest sign was advertising.

JUSTICE is LOVE. JUSTICE is MERCY. Justice is KINDNESS.

While the world around us is often UNJUST, God is calling us to LIVE JUSTLY, to LOVE MERCY, and to WALK HUMBLY with God. That doesn’t mean we sit back and let the innocent get trampled; rather, it means we peacefully and lovingly stand in solidarity with the oppressed without falling victim to the urge to GET BACK at the oppressor. LIVE JUSTLY and inspire others—through actions of peace and love—to join you in doing the same.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
“Social justice cannot be attained by violence. Violence kills what it intends to create.” – Pope John Paul II

PRAYER
Lord, help me to spread JUSTICE through peaceful actions of LOVE, MERCY, and COMPASSION. Amen.


© 2012 Rev. Todd R. Lattig. All rights reserved.
First published December 3, 2014.

From the Advent Archives: O Come, O Come, Emmanuel

Read Matthew 1:18-23

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“Then Isaiah said: ‘Hear then, O house of David! Is it too little for you to weary mortals, that you weary my God also? Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel.’” (Isaiah 7:13-14)

Image: AI-generated using DALL·E and customized by the author. Used with the devotional “From the Advent Archives: O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

It is hard to put into words the fear, anxiety, sadness, depression, and confusion that ran through most people’s minds at the close of this past Friday, December 14. By the end of the day, after watching the drama unfold on live TV, we learned that 28 people had been shot and killed at an elementary school in Connecticut. Of the 28, twenty were children between the ages of six and seven years old.

Oftentimes, in tragedies such as this, people ask, “Where is God in all of this?” After all, what kind of God would allow children to be born and grow up in a world that is seemingly as evil as this one? What kind of God would create “monsters” who go out and destroy the innocent? What kind of God would be so cold as to not intervene when the lives of the innocent are at stake?

These are all valid and good questions to ask. It is also safe to say that there really aren’t any answers that fully satisfy our need to understand how evil and God coexist. I could offer a ton of Christian clichés that sound good off the cuff, but that would only simplify something very complex. So, rather than offering easy answers to really tough questions, I will provide one of many possible ways in which we can reflect on what happened and what our response will be.

It is very easy for us to look only at where we don’t see God and miss where we *are* seeing God. For instance, we look at someone like Adam Lanza [the shooter at Sandy Hook Elementary School] and see his actions as proof of God failing to be with us. Yet we fail to see that God was with the principal who lunged at Adam and became the first to be shot and killed. God was with the teachers as they did everything they could — including covering children with their own bodies — to save their students. God was with the first responders.

God is also with those now looking at ways to address the societal issues that allow people like Adam to fall through the cracks unnoticed until it is too late. When Jesus called His disciples to care for “the least of these,” that included those who suffer from mental illness. Yet, in our society, mental illness is stigmatized, and our health care system often doesn’t provide affordable ways for people suffering from mental illness to get the kind of care (not just drugs and a locked asylum door) that they need.

The fact of the matter is that bad things do happen. People have free will and choose to do all sorts of things that God would not wish for anyone to choose. But aside from that, we still have a God who loves us, a God who is with us, a God who provides hope even in the darkest circumstances.

The Nativity story is a reminder of the hope of Emmanuel — God with us. This God came to earth and became one of us; this God put others first and sought to be present with all people regardless of their status or condition. This God was crucified by God’s own creation and resurrected back to life despite being put to death. This God is the same God who was present with the teachers, administrators, and first responders who worked desperately to save as many as possible, risking their own lives in the process. This God is the same God who is turning the media’s attention from labeling Adam “the face of evil” to examining how people like Adam have not received the care they needed.

While we cannot definitively answer why bad things like this happen — beyond the obvious realities of free will, broken systems, and human sin — we certainly can still have the hope of Emmanuel. Let us not forget that God never leaves us nor forsakes us. We can know that God is with us, and we can let God guide us to be instrumental in sparking the changes needed in our communities, the very changes that could protect other children and people from acts of evil.

Let us welcome Emmanuel into this world by seeing God’s revelation in us. We have been equipped to be the presence of God in the lives of those in need, whether they are children in distress or the unnoticed Adams slipping through the cracks. Let us be like the writer of Hebrews who confidently proclaims, “The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid” (Hebrews 13:6).

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
We need not look any further than our own hearts, and the hearts of those around us, to find God.

PRAYER
Lord, I thank You for always being present with me, and thank You for revealing Your presence in me. Let me witness to that Good News! Amen.


© 2012 Rev. Todd R. Lattig. All rights reserved.
First published December 19, 2012.

REVISITED: Shadow of the Vampire

Read Psalm 88

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:5 NIV)

Image: AI-generated by Rev. Todd R. Lattig using Adobe Firefly.

Those of you who know me are aware that I’m a fan of horror, particularly Robert Eggers’ work such as ‘The Witch,’ and a huge admirer of F.W. Murnau’s 1922 silent film ‘Nosferatu.’ In fact, I rescored ‘Nosferatu,’ which can be found on all major streaming services under the artist name Appalachian Virtual Ensemble, and also viewed, in its entirety on YouTube. So, when I heard that Eggers was remaking this classic tale, I was thrilled to see his vision come to life on the big screen.

Video: Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens (1922) – F.W. Murnau’s silent film, here presented in full with a rescore.

In Eggers’ haunting rendition of “Nosferatu,” we encounter Ellen, a young woman plagued by an overwhelming sense of melancholy. From her earliest years, she feels a deep loneliness that seems to call out to the darkness. This portrayal resonates with many who struggle with inner turmoil, feeling isolated even when surrounded by others.

As a pastor who has grappled with melancholy since childhood, I can relate to Ellen’s experience. My journey began early, manifesting as separation anxiety in preschool and evolving into a more profound sadness by my teenage years. Throughout this struggle, my faith has been a constant source of strength and comfort. The raw emotions expressed in the Psalms, the accounts of Jesus’ own moments of sadness, and the prophets’ cries for help have all offered solace in times of despair.

Like Ellen, I also found myself drawn to creative expression, turning to poetry as an additional means of coping with the darkness that seemed to lurk just beneath the surface of my everyday life.

In the film, Ellen finds a brief respite in her relationship with Thomas. This mirrors the temporary relief many of us seek in relationships, achievements, or fleeting pleasures. However, just as Ellen’s inner darkness returns with a vengeance, our struggles often resurface even when we think we’ve overcome them.

This persistent nature of melancholy can be particularly challenging for those in positions of spiritual leadership. As a pastor, I’ve felt the weight of expectations to always appear cheerful and optimistic, even when struggling internally. The misunderstandings surrounding inner turmoil, as depicted in Ellen’s interactions with others in “Nosferatu,” are all too familiar. Well-meaning advice to “snap out of it” or “think positive” fails to grasp the complex nature of our struggles. These misconceptions can lead to feelings of isolation and a reluctance to share our true experiences with others.

Yet, unlike Ellen, who feels drawn to the shadows, we as believers have a source of hope beyond the darkness. In John 8:12, Jesus spoke to the people once more and said, “I am the light of the world. If you follow me, you won’t have to walk in darkness, because you will have the light that leads to life.” This promise offers solace even in our darkest moments.

The Psalms teach us the importance of bringing our pain and sorrow to God. Psalm 88, a lament that doesn’t shy away from expressing deep anguish, reminds us that it’s okay to acknowledge our struggles while still clinging to faith. By choosing to lament, we open our hearts to God and create space for healing and transformation.

Unlike Ellen, who feels isolated in her suffering, we are called to bear one another’s burdens (Galatians 6:2). By opening up about our struggles and supporting others in theirs, we can find strength and healing in Christian community. This act of vulnerability, while challenging, can be a powerful testament to God’s grace working in our lives.

As we reflect on the haunting tale of “Nosferatu,” let us remember that while darkness may seem overwhelming, it does not have the final word. In Christ, we find a light that the darkness cannot overcome. May we turn to God in our moments of melancholy, finding hope, healing, and the strength to persevere. And may we, in turn, be that light for others who are struggling, offering understanding, support, and the transformative message of God’s love.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
“Nothing heals us like letting people know our scariest parts: When people listen to you cry and lament, and look at you with love, it’s like they are holding the baby of you.” – Anne Lamott

PRAYER
Lord, in moments of darkness and despair, help me to turn to You, the true light of the world. Grant me the strength to persevere, the wisdom to seek support from my community of faith, and the courage to be vulnerable with others. Use my experiences to bring comfort and hope to those who are struggling. In Jesus’ name, Amen.


MENTAL HEALTH NOTE
If you’re grappling with melancholy/depression or darker thoughts, remember that you’re not alone in this struggle. Reach out for support – it’s a sign of strength, not weakness. For those in the U.S., the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline is available 24/7 at 988. It’s free, confidential, and could be the lifeline you need in moments of despair. If you prefer texting, send ‘HOME’ to 741741 to connect with the Crisis Text Line.

For readers outside the U.S., resources like Befrienders Worldwide and the International Association for Suicide Prevention offer helplines and support services across various countries. These organizations embody Christ’s call for us to bear one another’s burdens (Galatians 6:2). Remember, just as the Psalmist cried out to God in times of anguish, it’s okay to voice your pain and seek help. In the words of Anne Lamott, “Nothing heals us like letting people know our scariest parts.” May we all have the courage to be vulnerable, to seek support, and to offer it to others in their time of need.


Devotion written by Rev. Todd R. Lattig with the assistance of Perplexity AI.

REVISITED: KEEP CHRIST IN CHRISTIAN, Part 16: Don’t Be a Hypocrite

Read Matthew 23:1-12

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“For God will bring every deed into judgment, including every hidden thing, whether it is good or evil” (Ecclesiastes 12:14 NLT).

We’ve all seen those bumper stickers and church signs urging us to “Keep Christ in Christmas.” Well-intentioned? Sure. But often missing the mark? Absolutely. They focus on preserving a commercialized image of “baby Jesus” rather than embracing the full, transformative power of Christ in our lives. The real challenge isn’t just keeping Christ in a holiday—it’s keeping Christ in Christian.

Image: AI-generated by Rev. Todd R. Lattig using Adobe Firefly and modified by the author.

Part 16: Don’t Be a Hypocrite. As we navigate our daily lives, we often encounter situations where actions don’t align with words. This discrepancy can be seen in various aspects of society, from personal relationships to public policy. One area where this is particularly evident is in politics.

Consider the recent political landscape where both parties have been accused of hypocrisy regarding the filibuster. When in the minority, they often passionately defend it as a crucial tool for protecting minority rights. However, when they become the majority, they may seek to eliminate it to pass legislation more easily. This flip-flopping undermines trust and credibility. Similarly, politicians often criticize others for increasing deficits but do the same when they gain power. These actions highlight how hypocrisy can erode public trust and credibility.

Hypocrisy is a significant barrier that keeps many people, especially young adults, from attending church. They often perceive Christians as hypocritical, which affects the church’s credibility and appeal. This is a widespread issue that we must address.

Hypocrisy is not just a Christian problem; it’s a widespread human issue that involves saying one thing but doing another, often to cover up one’s sins or promote personal gain. This discrepancy damages character, blinds us to true discipleship, and tarnishes spiritual influence.

In our daily lives, we often face situations where hypocrisy can creep in. We might criticize others for actions we ourselves engage in, or we might change our stance based on convenience rather than principle. To avoid hypocrisy, we must strive for authenticity and accountability. This involves recognizing our own flaws and living genuinely, holding ourselves accountable for our actions, avoiding judgment of others, and addressing inconsistencies between our actions and values.

In rural communities, where relationships are often close-knit and trust is highly valued, living authentically is particularly important. This principle, however, applies universally across different contexts and communities. Authenticity fosters stronger bonds and trust, whether in urban, rural, or whatever settings you find yourself living in this increasingly small world.

In Matthew 23:1-12, Jesus confronts the Pharisees for their hypocrisy, emphasizing the importance of living out what we preach. This passage highlights the need for authenticity and accountability in our lives.

As we reflect on our own lives and communities, let’s strive to embody authenticity and accountability. By doing so, we can build trust and credibility, both within our churches and in the broader society. This journey towards authenticity is not easy, but it is essential for living out our faith genuinely. In Ecclesiastes 12:14, we’re reminded that God will bring every deed into judgment. This should motivate us to live authentically and avoid hypocrisy, knowing that our actions have consequences not just in this life but in eternity.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
Hypocrisy is not just about what others do; it’s about our own actions and intentions. Let’s focus on living genuinely and holding ourselves accountable.

PRAYER
God, guide us in the path of authenticity and accountability. May our hearts be transformed, and may we live out Your will in our lives. Amen.


Devotion written by Rev. Todd R. Lattig with the assistance of Perplexity AI.

REVISITED: Killing Strangers

Read Revelation 13:1-4

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“Then Jesus said to him, ‘Put the sword back into its place. All those who use the sword will die by the sword.’” (Matthew 26:52 CEB)

Marilyn Manson live on 1/29/2017 at Terminal 5 in Manhattan.

Is it just me or does it seem like the world is spinning completely out of control? The news is daily filled with stories of people killing other people. Growing up, I remember hearing of murders here or there, I remember the shock that would bring to me everytime I heard of someone’s violent demise. It was shocking because it didn’t happen to often, or it was at least less often brought to my attention, so that when I heard of such violent acts I was horrified by it.

Nowadays, I must admit, that I am not shocked to hear of such things at all. If anything, like most in our society, I have grown numb to it. That’s not to say that I am apathetic to the people who suffer. I am an empath, meaning that I can easily put myself in the shoes of others and will often feel the pain others are going through, not to the same level as the suffering, but enough to empathize with them. Yet, overall, I have grown numb (in that I am not shocked) to the constant barraging of violent extremism in this country. It has, sadly, become the norm.

We live in the age of the sword. People no longer can look at the other, despite the differences they have, and see common humanity in them. Rather, they see the other as being the enemy. They embrace the spirit of Satan, which is the spirit of divisiveness and enmity. They avoid, at all costs, the long, hard road of open, honest, and painful communication. They avoid seeking to understand the other, as well as seeking the other to understand them, and they resort to pointing the finger, scapegoating, warring with others, and taking lives. From our politicians modeling this kind of enmity in their campaigns to common protestors who are outraged over injustice, violence is becoming the modus operandi for getting oneself or one’s group heard.

It is understandable how people can resort to violence. When groups of people suffer seemingly endless injustice, while others are treated with respect and dignity, that is angering. When groups of people who are being discriminated against feel like the majority of people are not hearing them out or understanding their woes, that adds fuel to the already stoked fire. Even more, when the majority of people want to keep things exactly as they are because it suits them at the great cost of others, and they discount or deny the experiences of discrimination that others are going through, that can be a rallying cry for those who are fed up with being silenced in their suffering.

Yet, violence almost never helps anyone’s cause, but often begets more violence. We saw that in the shootings of Minnesota, Louisiana and Texas. The shootings of two black males by police officers, resulted in someone angrily taking justice into their own hands by shooting unwary police officers who were just trying to ensure the safety of protestors in Dallas, and they were officers who had nothing to do with the previous shootings. We also see this at the often chaotic and sometimes violent rallies of our presidential candidates. People in both of these instances, and beyond are fed up with NOT being heard and are, unfortunately, venting their frustrations violently. As one candidate’s followers get violent toward the other’s, the other candidate’s followers retaliate.

This reminds me of two Marilyn Manson songs. In his song, “Killing Strangers,” Manson writes that “we’re killing strangers so we don’t kill the ones that we love.” This is a profound truth, in that out of frustration we resort to killing the other, the stranger, in order to “protect” those we love and care about. The problem is that those “strangers” often did nothing, and would do nothing, to deserve being killed.

In his song, “Antichrist Superstar,” Manson writes, “Cut the head off, grows back hard. I am the hydra, now you’ll see your star.” This, of course, is imagery taken straight from the book of Revelation. While Manson is writing about how the church created the “evil” they perceive him, and others, to be, I believe that these lyrics apply here as well. We use the sword (proverbial or literal) to cut down our perceived enemies, only to see those enemies rise back up to strike us back.

The question for us is this, when does the violence stop? Surely, there is truth in Jesus’ warning that “those who live by the sword will surely die by it.” I am not saying that all violence is uncalled for, but when we are reactive in violent and destructive ways as a result of our fear and anger, that almost always leads down the path of destruction. We may be killing strangers to begin with, but we are killing pieces of our own souls in the process, and reaping the harvest of our seeds of fear and anger. Let us, as Jesus taught, lay down our swords and seek the better, more righteous way of responding to injustice.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
“My religion is based on truth and non-violence. Truth is my God. Non-violence is the means of realizing Him.” – Mahatma Gandhi

PRAYER
Lord, help me to find constructive and nonviolent ways of harnessing my righteous anger, for the elimination of injustice and the transformation of this world. Amen.