Tag Archives: Christianity

Devotional, Series

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

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By Rev. Todd R. Lattig

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).

Devotional, Series

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

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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).

Devotional

SEVEN LOADED LETTERS, Part 1: Babylon Beneath Our Feet

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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.

Devotional, Special Devotion

When the Music’s Over: An Earth Day Devotion

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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 by ChatGPT (OpenAI) and customized by the author in Photoshop. Used with the devotional “When the Music’s Over: An Earth Day Devotion” 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.

“What have they done to the Earth? What have they done to our fair sister?”
From The Doors – “When the Music’s Over” (Official Audio). A haunting, poetic call to environmental awareness—decades before its time.
Devotional, Previous Post

REVISITED: What Do You Fear?

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Read Luke 12:1-7

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear, because fear expects punishment. The person who is afraid has not been made perfect in love.” (1 John‬ ‭4:18‬ ‭CEB‬‬)‬‬‬‬

 My youngest daughter and I have gotten into the show, Supergirl, which airs on Monday nights on CBS. In one of the episodes, Cara Zor-El (aka Supergirl) ends up joining forces with Maxwell Lord who, up until this point, has been one of her enemies. Family members from Cara’s home planet of Krypton, have decided that they are going to take over the earth to save it from human destruction. Their method for doing so is by using some device called the “Myriad” which allows them to have control of all human minds that are within the range of the device.

Using satalites, the myriad literally enslaves the minds of everyone within National City and Supergirl must find away to stop her fellow Kryptonians from doing that to the people of her city. This is where Maxwell Lord comes in. Maxwell is a rich entrepenuer, scientist, and inventor who has invested his life in trying to prevent “aliens” from taking over the world. He fears no aliens can be trusted and that they are all out own the planet. This is, ultimately, what has set him against Supergirl, who herself is an alien. But, you know how the phrase goes, “The enemy of your enemy is your is your friend”. Thus, Maxwell Lord reaches out to Cara in order to ally himself with her and offer his services to her in order to stop the Kryponians from mind-controlling everyone.

While this all sounds good on the surface, Maxwell’s plan is pretty dark and twisted, He plans on making a bomb that contains a significant amount of Kryptonite in it. The idea is that when the bomb explodes, the Kryptonite will be vaporized and in the air, effectively killing off the evil Kryptonians that are turning humans into mindless drones. The only drawback is that, in order to do that, at least 8% of the human population will be killed by the percussion of the explosion. Maxwell’s logic is as follows, it is better that 300,000 or so people die than for all of National City and the world be turned into slaves of the aliens.

Cara Zor-El is left with a crazy choice. She does not think that killing 300,000 people should be an option on the table, and yet Maxwell’s plan seems to be the only one that has any chance in stopping the Kryptonians. The question becomes does she try to take the high road and do what is morally right, possibly risking losing to the Kryptonians? Or, does she act quickly out of fear of what might happen if she doesn’t?

While the show is obviously fiction, it sets up what we face every day in our lives: FEAR and the choices such FEAR presents us. The question is, what do you fear and how does it affect the decisions you make in your life? Do you allow your fears to consume you, do you allow them to cause you to justify what you would otherwise deem morally reprehenisble? In today’s world, where fear runs rampant and rules us like a tyrannical dictator, we find ourselves faced with people pushing some really crazy and scary idealogies. What’s more, many people are willing to toss their good sensibilities and morals aside, for fear of what will happen if they don’t “DO SOMETHING” in order to prevent what they fear from happening.

Christ does not call us to DO SOMETHING, Christ calls us to DO THE RIGHT THING. Christ is calling us to know what we fear, to name those fears, and to put them into check with our faith. If we have faith in God, if we truly have faith, we will do what is right over and above what seems expedient in preventing our fears from coming true. When we let go and we trust in God, then we can conquer our fears and rise above the things our fears dicate we should do. I pray that we all find the truth in this and place our trust in God.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” – Franklin D. Roosevelt

PRAYER
Lord, help me to name my fears and conquer them with your love. Amen.

Devotional

Rubber Meet Road

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Read Daniel 6:1–23

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
But Peter and the apostles replied, “We must obey God rather than any human authority” (Acts 5:29 NLT).

Image: AI-generated using Adobe Firefly and customized by the author. Used with the devotional “Rubber Meet Road” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

There are moments when being a Christian stops being theoretical and becomes painfully, inconveniently real.

Meet three people from the same faith community—just everyday followers of Jesus. They aren’t famous. They’re not trying to make headlines. But in the quiet corners of their town, each one faces a moment when the law and love pull in opposite directions.

Elaine walks through the park after sunset, just as she’s done every Thursday night since joining the church’s outreach team. She sees the usual group of folks huddled on benches—coats pulled tight, bags beneath their heads. A posted sign reads: “No loitering after dusk.” She hesitates. She’s been warned before. But tonight is bitter cold. So she slips away, returns with blankets and handwarmers, and leaves them gently by each sleeper. Daniel flashes through her mind—praying though it was forbidden, trusting that faithfulness was worth the risk. (Daniel 6)

Marcus meets every Sunday with his small group just after worship. For years they’ve packed lunches—sandwiches, fruit, water—and handed them out near the bus depot downtown. Last week, a city official approached with a clipboard: “You need a permit for this. Next time, there may be a fine.” The group nods politely. And the next Sunday, they’re right back at it. As they prepare the lunches, Marcus thinks of Jesus’ words: “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” (Matthew 25:40)

Rosa, the lay leader, hears from a member about a young family facing deportation. No paperwork. No recourse. No home. Their child plays in the same Sunday school class as her grandson. Her church isn’t a formal sanctuary congregation. There are rules. Zoning laws. Insurance policies. But Rosa knows the Spirit’s pull. That night, she quietly makes a few calls, finds a room in the church basement, and opens the door. She doesn’t need a chapter and verse—just the clear memory of Jesus saying, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” (Luke 10:27)

Each of them broke something—an ordinance, a policy, a protocol. But none of them broke faith. In fact, they kept it.

These aren’t dramatic revolutions. They’re quiet refusals to let legality define morality. Their choices may not change the law, but they reveal a deeper allegiance—to the One who called us to love without condition, defend the vulnerable, and follow Christ, no matter what road that leads us down.

Centuries earlier, Daniel faced a similar choice. He wasn’t staging a protest or shouting in the streets—he was simply praying. But his quiet faithfulness was still seen as a threat, because it revealed where his true allegiance lay. Whether he had prayed in silence or preached in the streets, his loyalty to God would’ve still brought him into conflict with unjust power.

Likewise, Peter and the apostles stood before the religious authorities and boldly declared, “We must obey God rather than any human authority.” Their faith was not performative—it was defiant in the most faithful way. They were committed to the reign of God, even when it meant confrontation with the kingdoms of humanity.

They were not alone. Moses defied Pharaoh. Esther approached the king unsummoned. Elijah and Elisha stood against corrupt kings. Jeremiah was arrested for speaking God’s word. Jesus healed on the Sabbath and violated religious norms. Peter, James, John, Paul, Stephen—none of them bowed to unjust rules when those rules conflicted with the call of God’s justice and mercy.

That’s why we need to remember stories like Daniel’s. He didn’t go looking for trouble—he just refused to abandon his rhythm of faith when unjust laws tried to shut it down. And the lions didn’t come because he was loud or reckless. They came because he stayed faithful.

We often assume that because Daniel survived the lions’ den, it proves God was on his side. But that’s a dangerous way to measure faithfulness. Had Daniel been torn apart, it still would have been God who called him to kneel in prayer. Deliverance doesn’t prove obedience; obedience proves faith. Jesus wasn’t spared. Neither were Peter, Paul, or James. They all died serving God—and they were never more faithful than in their final steps.

Faith meets the road where policy and compassion collide—where following Jesus costs something real. Not just our comfort, but sometimes our reputation. Our relationships. Our standing. And in some cases, even our safety. That’s the place where obedience becomes more than personal belief—it becomes embodied conviction.

To follow Christ is to step into that space where grace challenges power, and where love disrupts what the world considers “law and order.” It’s not always dramatic. Often, it’s just showing up. Standing firm. Saying no. Opening the door. Offering the blanket. Refusing to walk past the need.

And yes—it’s costly. But that cost is the confirmation that our faith is alive and real. That’s where the rubber meets the road.

And the good news? We never walk that road alone.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
Where your faith meets real life, does it bend toward comfort—or conviction?

PRAYER
Lord Jesus, give me the courage to obey You even when it’s not easy or convenient. Teach me to discern when laws uphold justice—and when they do not. May I never confuse legality with righteousness. Help me walk in love, speak with grace, and act with bold faith when the rubber meets the road. Amen.

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

Devotional

Death the Deceiver

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Read 1 Corinthians 15:54–57

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“I am the living one. I died, but look—I am alive forever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and the grave.” —Revelation 1:18 (NLT)

Image: AI-generated using Adobe Firefly and customized by the author. Used with the devotional “Death the Deceiver” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

Have you ever stood in a cemetery long after the funeral has ended? The chairs are folded, the people have gone home, and it’s just you and the stone. Maybe it bears the name of someone you loved, someone you still talk to. And so, you speak. You ask questions. You share regrets. You cry. You laugh. You wait for something—anything—in return.

But all you get is silence.

Death doesn’t talk back. It doesn’t comfort. It doesn’t explain itself. It simply takes… and leaves us with the ache of unanswered questions. And yet, in that silence, we do something very human—we start to imagine death as something we can reason with, something we can bargain with, something we can understand. We try to make it feel fair. Even noble. But what if we’ve got it all wrong?

The world often says, “Death is the great equalizer.” But is it? Some die peacefully in their sleep, others in excruciating pain. Some go surrounded by loved ones; others go alone. Some have time to prepare; others are taken in an instant. If this is a level playing field, it sure doesn’t look that way. The truth is, death is not a friend or a philosopher. It’s not even a conversation partner. Death takes. Indiscriminately. Without fairness, without explanation, without moral compass.

As Christians, we do not romanticize death. We face it. Even Jesus did. The Son of God, the Word made flesh, was not spared death’s reach. He succumbed to it fully, painfully, publicly. But here’s the truth death doesn’t want you to know: Jesus walked out of the grave. Not because death let Him go, but because it couldn’t keep Him. He didn’t escape death—He conquered it.

And that changes everything.

In Jesus, death is not the end. It is not the last word. It is not something to fear, bargain with, or exalt. It is temporary. And if that’s true—if death really has lost its sting—then how should we live? We live by anchoring our hope not in comfort or avoidance, but in Christ. In the One who is the way, the truth, and the life.

We follow Him not by mere belief, but by devotion—loving God, loving neighbor, pouring ourselves into communities of faith that worship, learn, grow, disciple, steward, and serve. This is not a faith of convenience. It’s a faith of commitment. A faith that looks death square in the face and says, “You don’t get to win.”

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
Death is not a friend or a philosopher. It is a deceiver. But Jesus, who conquered death, is the truth that sets us free.

PRAYER
God of life and light, remind us that our hope is not in this world alone, and certainly not in death’s illusion of finality. When grief tempts us to make peace with death’s lies, turn our hearts back to the truth of the Resurrection. Help us to live boldly in the freedom Christ has secured, to love deeply, serve faithfully, and reflect Your glory in all we do. Amen.

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

Devotional, Series

KEEP CHRIST IN CHRISTIAN, Part 19: Don’t Withhold Grace

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Read Matthew 5:43–48

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“O people, the LORD has told you what is good, and this is what God requires of you: to do what is right, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8 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 19: Don’t Withhold Grace. In the wake of President Donald J. Trump’s inauguration, the National Cathedral held its traditional interfaith prayer service—an event deeply rooted in American religious custom. Episcopal Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde offered a reflection that day, standing before a sanctuary full of dignitaries, including the newly inaugurated president. She didn’t grandstand. She didn’t ridicule. She simply made a pastoral appeal: “In the name of our God, I ask you to have mercy on the people in our country who are scared now.” She spoke of LGBTQ+ people, of immigrants, of refugees fleeing war—real people with real fears. It was a call for compassion, not condemnation. (PBS NewsHour)

But grace was not what she received.

President Trump dismissed the service on Truth Social as “boring,” labeled Bishop Budde a “so-called bishop,” and called her a “Radical Left hard-line Trump hater.” He also demanded an apology—reportedly because he believed she had embarrassed the nation. Evangelical leaders chimed in, with Pastor Robert Jeffress claiming Budde “insulted rather than encouraged our great president,” and a Republican Congressman suggesting she should be “added to the deportation list.” Yes—deportation—for praying for mercy.

Let that sink in.

This is a moment the Church must not ignore. Because the issue is not partisanship—it’s discipleship. It’s about whether Christians, especially, but not limited to, those with platforms and influence, will reflect the grace of Christ—or withhold it when it’s politically inconvenient.

Let’s contrast that moment with Rev. Franklin Graham’s prayer at the inauguration—one filled with calls for God’s protection and guidance for President Trump. That prayer had its place, and no one faulted him for offering it. But where was the accompanying call for justice, mercy, or humility? Where was Micah 6:8?

The real contrast isn’t one preacher versus another. It’s about how the Church chooses to show up. Do we offer grace only when it aligns with our worldview? Do we support leaders with unconditional affirmation, but condemn pastors who dare speak truth to power?

To make matters worse, we’re now in an era where empathy itself is mocked. Elon Musk has described empathy as a kind of civilizational weakness—suggesting that misplaced compassion can lead to societal decline and even “civilizational suicide.” He’s argued that we often direct empathy toward the wrong people or causes, and in doing so, we undermine collective strength. Disturbingly, this framing has begun to echo within some Christian circles, where empathy is being viewed as counterproductive or even dangerous.

Joe Rigney, Fellow of Theology at New Saint Andrews College and Associate Pastor at Christ Church, explores this very idea in his book The Sin of Empathy: Compassion and Its Counterfeits. In it, Rigney argues that unchecked empathy can distort Christian truth, framing it as a temptation rather than a virtue. When did Christlikeness become a weakness? When did mercy become controversial?

Jesus wept with the grieving. He touched the untouchable. He forgave his executioners. The Church cannot claim to follow Christ and simultaneously call for deportation when a bishop prays for compassion. We cannot cheer prayers for power while booing prayers for mercy.

Grace is not optional. It’s not something we ration out based on who we think deserves it. The moment we start doing that, we’ve stopped following Jesus and started following something else entirely.

That truth has been the driving thread through every part of this series. Keeping Christ in Christian is not about slogans or seasonal posturing. It’s about re-centering our lives—our communities—on the radical, often uncomfortable grace of Christ. And if we really mean to keep Christ in Christian, then we must allow that grace to shape not just our beliefs, but our actions, our speech, our silence, and how we treat those who challenge us.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
Grace isn’t deserved—no one deserves or earns grace—rather, it is God’s free gift and can only be received or rejected. The choice is ours to make, and it will forever change the trajectory of our lives.

PRAYER
Gracious God, we confess that too often we withhold the very grace You poured out so freely. Help us not only to receive it but to reflect it—to extend mercy where there is pain, love where there is hatred, and truth where there is silence. Let us never trade our witness for comfort or our calling for allegiance to anyone but Christ. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.

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

Devotional, Series

KEEP CHRIST IN CHRISTIAN, Part 18: Don’t Be Self-Centered

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By Rev. Todd R. Lattig

Read Philippians 2:1-11

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:12-13 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 18: Don’t Be Self-Centered. Some of you may have heard the famous allegory of the long spoons, which illustrates the stark contrast between heaven and hell. The story goes that a person was given a tour of both realms. In hell, they saw people sitting around a large pot of stew, each holding a long-handled spoon. Despite the abundance of food, they were unable to feed themselves because the spoons were too long to reach their mouths. Their frustration and suffering were palpable.

In contrast, when they visited heaven, they found a nearly identical scene: people sitting around a pot of stew with the same long-handled spoons. However, here, everyone was well-nourished and joyful. The difference was not in the circumstances but in the actions of the people. In heaven, they used their long spoons to feed each other, demonstrating a selfless love and community that allowed them to thrive.

This allegory teaches us an important truth: self-centeredness leads to emptiness and suffering, while selflessness brings joy and fulfillment. As Christians, we are called to live out our faith in a way that values others above ourselves. This is not just an ideal but a command rooted in Scripture.

In Philippians 2:1-11, Paul paints a vivid picture of what it means to live humbly and selflessly. Paul urges believers to have the same mindset as Christ Jesus, who “gave up his divine privileges; he took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being” (Philippians 2:7 NLT). Jesus’ entire life was marked by humility and service to others, culminating in Jesus’ ultimate act of selflessness on the cross.

Self-centeredness is one of the most pervasive challenges we face today. It shows up in countless ways—when we prioritize our own comfort over someone else’s needs, when we seek recognition for our good deeds, or when we avoid helping others because it feels inconvenient. Some of us may even choose to “sleep in” or prioritize leisure activities over worshiping God or serving in mission. Social media amplifies this tendency by encouraging us to curate perfect versions of ourselves for validation and attention.

But Jesus calls us to something radically different. In John 15:12-13, Jesus tells us to love one another as He has loved us—a love so profound that it lays down its life for others. This kind of love isn’t about grand gestures; it’s about daily acts of kindness, humility, and service.

Think about your own life for a moment. Are there areas where self-centeredness has crept in? Maybe it’s in your relationships—where you expect others to meet your needs without considering theirs—or in your work or ministry—where you focus on personal success rather than serving those around you. These are hard questions to ask ourselves, but they are necessary if we want to grow as followers of Christ.

The good news is that we don’t have to overcome self-centeredness on our own. God gives us the Holy Spirit to guide us and transform our hearts. When we surrender our desires and ambitions to God’s will, God replaces them with a spirit of humility and love.

The world tells us that putting ourselves first is the key to happiness; Scripture tells us the opposite. True joy comes when we put God first, trusting God with our needs and living out our faith by prioritizing others while also taking care of ourselves in a balanced way. Just like those in heaven using their long spoons to feed each other, we thrive when we live selflessly within community.

As we reflect on this lesson from Philippians 2 and the allegory of the long spoons, let’s commit ourselves to living out Christ’s example of humility and service. Let’s reject self-centeredness and embrace a life that values others above ourselves.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
True joy comes not from serving ourselves but from serving others with humility and love.

PRAYER
God, help us to reject self-centeredness and embrace humility as we follow Your example. Teach us to value others above ourselves while caring for ourselves in balance. Transform our hearts so that we may reflect Your selfless nature in all we do. Amen.

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

Devotional, Series

KEEP CHRIST IN CHRISTIAN, Part 17: Don’t Bow to Lesser Gods

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Read Exodus 20:1-5

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (Ephesians 6:12 NLT).

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

Part 17: Don’t Bow to Lesser Gods. Imagine a world where darkness descends, and everything seems to fall apart. There’s no clear path forward, and the heart is shattered. This is the scenario painted by Demon Hunter in their song “Lesser Gods.” The lyrics challenge us to confront the idols in our lives—those things we prioritize over our faith and values. The song asks us to choose between sacrificing ourselves for a higher purpose or bowing to lesser gods.

In Exodus 20:1-5, we find the first commandment: “You must not have any other god but me” (Exodus 20:3 NLT). This commandment is not just about ancient idols; it’s about recognizing the idols in our modern lives. Idols can be anything that takes precedence over God—wealth, status, power, or even our own desires. When we prioritize these things, we risk losing sight of what truly matters.

The song “Lesser Gods” highlights the existential crisis we face when life falls apart. It prompts us to question the purpose of living and dying. In those moments of darkness, we’re tempted to seek solace in things that promise comfort but ultimately lead to emptiness. This is where the choice becomes clear: to sacrifice ourselves for something greater or to bow to lesser gods.

As Christians, we are called to discern the idols in our lives and to reject them. This involves recognizing the ways in which our culture and personal desires can lead us astray. By focusing on God’s will and living out our faith authentically, we can avoid the pitfalls of idolatry and remain true to our spiritual calling.

In a world filled with distractions and temptations, it’s easy to get caught up in the pursuit of fleeting satisfactions. Social media, for instance, can become an idol when we seek validation and comfort in likes and followers. Even our careers or personal achievements can become idols if they consume our thoughts and actions, distracting us from living out our faith authentically.

When it comes to politics, the line between engagement and idolization can be blurry. If we prioritize our political ideologies over our faith in Christ, we risk losing sight of what truly matters. This doesn’t mean that politics is irrelevant or that we should ignore our civic responsibilities. However, when our political affiliations or ideologies overshadow our commitment to God’s kingdom, we’re in danger of idolizing them. This can lead us to judge others based on their political views rather than their character, or to justify actions that contradict biblical principles in the name of political expediency. As Christians, we must ensure that our allegiance remains with God’s kingdom, not with any earthly ideology.

The song “Lesser Gods” also speaks to the idea of sacrifice. It challenges us to consider what we’re willing to give up for our faith. In Romans 12:1, Paul urges us to present our bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God. This call to self-sacrifice is not about earning salvation but about living out our faith in a way that honors God.

In our pursuit of comfort and security, we often neglect the call to sacrifice, prioritizing our own interests over serving others. However, this neglect undermines our faith and the Gospel’s transformative power. Let’s strive for spiritual resilience by standing firm against worldly pressures and maintaining our allegiance to God. We must focus on what endures in a world that is passing away (1 John 2:17), pursuing holiness and obedience to God because we love Him and want to be more like Jesus.

As we navigate life’s complexities, remember that anything can become a god if it demands our attention and allegiance. Yet, only one can be God, the creator worthy of praise. This truth guides us in discerning our priorities. When life falls apart and we’re tempted by lesser gods, let’s recall the call to sacrifice ourselves for a higher purpose. Let’s live a life fully surrendered to God, reflecting Christ’s transformative power and standing firm against lesser gods.

As we strive to keep Christ in Christian, let’s ensure that our hearts remain focused on God’s will, even in the face of adversity. May our lives reflect the transformative power of Christ, and may we stand firm against the allure of lesser gods.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
Idols are subtle but powerful. Let’s be mindful of what we prioritize in our lives and ensure that our allegiance remains with God alone.

PRAYER
God, guide us in discerning the idols in our lives and give us the strength to reject them. May we remain faithful to Your will and live out our faith authentically. Help us to stand firm against the pressures of the world and to pursue holiness with humility. In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.

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