Tag Archives: humility

FAITH, HOPE, LOVE, Part 4: The Final Word

Read Romans 10:9–13

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it. The world and all its people belong to him.” (Psalm 24:1 NLT)

Sunlight breaks through dark storm clouds over a meadow framed by large oak trees and distant mountains. A winding dirt path passes weathered gravestones and wildflowers, while birds fly beneath the opening in the clouds. The Life-Giving Water Devotions logo appears along the bottom.
Image: AI-generated using DALL·E and customized by the author. Used with the devotional “The Final Word” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

When Ozzy Osbourne gave his farewell concert, many people saw a complicated life being honored.

They saw a musician whose career had shocked, moved, entertained, unsettled, and shaped generations. They saw someone who had struggled publicly, survived much, loved his family, and left behind a body of work that meant something to people far beyond the boundaries of church life.

Then some Christians began speaking.

Not all Christians, of course. But enough. Loudly enough.

They spoke as though they knew the final word over his soul. They declared where he was going. They dismissed the grief of those who loved him. They treated his life as a warning more than a human story. Some seemed almost eager to turn his death into proof that they were righteous, discerning, and safely on the right side of eternity.

That angered me.

Not because every part of his life needed defending. Not because public lives are beyond critique. Not because Christians should abandon discernment or pretend that nothing matters. It angered me because the speed of condemnation felt far too familiar.

The church has often been quick to identify devils outside itself while refusing to recognize the cruelty it has carried in the name of God. It has scapegoated artists, outsiders, doubters, rebels, queer people, grieving people, wounded people, and anyone who made religious respectability uncomfortable. It has too often sounded less like the body of Christ and more like the accuser.

So I spoke out.

I challenged the judgment. I challenged the certainty. I challenged the way Christians can claim the authority of Jesus while speaking about another person’s soul with contempt. I asked whether the church might need to look in the mirror before deciding who else belongs in hell.

And people got upset.

That is what happens sometimes when Jesus asks you to proclaim something people do not want to hear. The issue is not always whether your words were careful enough, gentle enough, or easy enough to receive. Sometimes people are angry because the question itself exposes something. How dare you challenge the church like that? How dare you suggest that our judgment might not be the same thing as God’s judgment? How dare you interrupt condemnation when we had already made it feel holy?

But that is exactly where Paul’s words matter.

In Romans, Paul says that if we confess with our mouths that Jesus is Lord and believe in our hearts that God raised him from the dead, we will be saved. That confession is not small. To say “Jesus is Lord” is to surrender every rival claim to ultimate authority.

Including our claim to the final word over another person’s soul.

Paul does not stop with confession. He widens the circle. There is no distinction, he says. The same Lord is Lord of all. Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.

Everyone.

That does not erase discernment. It does not mean every life is equally faithful, every action excusable, or every public witness holy. Paul is not asking us to stop telling the truth.

He is reminding us that the final word is not ours.

Psalm 24 presses the issue even further. The earth belongs to the Lord, and everything in it. Not just the sanctuaries. Not just the respectable lives. Not just the people who make religious communities comfortable. The earth. The world. All who live in it.

If that is true, then no person exists outside the claim of God.

No sinner. No saint. No artist. No outcast. No person whose life unsettles the church’s imagination.

To confess that Jesus is Lord is to give the final word back to Christ. Fear does not get it. Condemnation does not get it. Reputation does not get it. Religious arrogance does not get it. The church at its most anxious does not get it.

Christ does.

That should make us careful before we weaponize eternity against someone else. It should make us slower to damn and quicker to examine ourselves. It should make us ask whether our words sound like the gospel or merely like accusation dressed in religious language.

There will be times when faithfulness requires us to say, “Not so fast.” Not to excuse harm. Not to romanticize destruction. Not to pretend every life should be imitated. But to remind the church that judgment belongs to God, mercy belongs to God, and salvation is not a trophy Christians hand out to people they approve.

Jesus is Lord.

Not the loudest believer. Not the most offended crowd. Not the empire. Not the party. Not the church’s fear. Not even our own certainty.

Jesus.

The same Lord who is Lord of all.

And the final word belongs to him.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
To confess that Jesus is Lord is to surrender the final word over mercy, judgment, and belonging to Christ.

PRAYER
God of mercy, forgive us when we speak with certainty about what belongs to you alone. Free us from judgment that masquerades as faithfulness, and teach us to confess Jesus as Lord with humility, truth, and hope. Let your mercy unsettle our arrogance and widen our love. Amen.


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

FAITH, HOPE, LOVE, Part 3: The Emptied Lord

Read Philippians 2:5–11

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“ For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve others and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (Mark 10:45 NLT)

A grand throne room stands in warm, dramatic light, with an ornate empty throne in the background. In the foreground, a red royal robe lies on the stone floor beside a basin and towel. The Life-Giving Water Devotions logo appears along the bottom. The scene suggests power set aside in favor of humility and service.
Image: AI-generated using DALL·E and customized by the author. Used with the devotional “The Emptied Lord” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

There is a certain kind of strength we are taught to admire before we ever learn to question it.

It fills the room. It interrupts. It refuses to apologize. It knows how to turn uncertainty into weakness and disagreement into threat. It does not simply want to be heard; it wants to be obeyed. It mistakes volume for conviction, control for leadership, and domination for courage.

Sometimes, that kind of strength does not look obviously cruel. Sometimes it is polished, religious, respectable, and confident. Sometimes it quotes Scripture. Sometimes it claims to defend Jesus while showing very little interest in the way of Jesus.

That is where discernment becomes difficult.

Because Christians do not only face the temptation to reject Christ. We also face the temptation to use Christ. We can take his name, his authority, his cross, his church, and his language, and attach them to the very kinds of power he refused. We can confuse faithfulness with partisan loyalty. We can confuse courage with contempt. We can confuse truth with the permission to be unkind. We can confess Jesus as Lord while admiring leaders, movements, and habits of heart that look nothing like him.

Paul will not let that confusion stand.

In Philippians, Paul writes that Jesus, “though he was God,” did not treat equality with God as something to cling to or exploit. Instead, Christ emptied himself. He took the form of a servant. He humbled himself.

That is not a small detail in Paul’s theology. It is not a decorative piece of Christian poetry. It is Paul showing us what the lordship of Jesus actually looks like.

Jesus is Lord, but he does not define lordship the way the world does. He does not grasp for status. He does not protect himself through domination. He does not confuse being right with being righteous. He does not need to crush others in order to prove who he is.

The Lord of all becomes the servant of all.

That does not mean Jesus is weak. It means we have often misunderstood strength. The humility of Christ is not insecurity. The self-emptying of Christ is not self-hatred. The servanthood of Christ is not passivity in the face of evil. Jesus does not empty himself because he lacks power. He empties himself because God’s power is not anxious, greedy, or cruel.

That is the part we often resist.

Many of us would rather have a Lord who confirms our instincts. A Lord who blesses our side. A Lord who defeats our enemies without examining our hearts. A Lord who gives us spiritual language for the power we already wanted. A Lord who lets us stay certain, superior, and untouched.

But Philippians gives us the emptied Lord.

And the emptied Lord interrupts every false version of lordship, including the ones we have baptized.

This is why Mark’s Gospel belongs beside Paul’s words. When Jesus’ followers begin imagining greatness in the usual way, Jesus tells them that the rulers of the world lord power over others. Then he says it must not be that way among them. His own life becomes the pattern: not to be served, but to serve.

That word reaches beyond politics, though it certainly includes politics. It reaches into churches, families, workplaces, ministries, friendships, and private thoughts. It reaches every place where we grasp for control because we are afraid to trust love. It reaches every place where we perform strength because humility feels too vulnerable. It reaches every place where we would rather win than be changed.

To confess that Jesus is Lord is not merely to place a crown on his head in our imagination. It is to allow his life to reorder what we mean by power, authority, courage, and faithfulness.

The emptied Lord does not ask us to become small so others can remain comfortable. He does not ask us to tolerate injustice or call abuse holy. But he does call us away from the kind of power that can only feel secure when someone else is beneath it.

Christ’s lordship moves downward in love.

And if we follow him, then something in us must be emptied too: our grasping, our posturing, our need to dominate, our addiction to being right, our desire to make Jesus useful to whatever we already believe.

Jesus is Lord.

Not the loudest voice. Not the cruelest leader. Not the strongest brand. Not the party. Not the movement. Not the ego dressed up as conviction.

Jesus.

The one who emptied himself.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
The lordship of Jesus does not bless our grasping; it remakes us in the shape of self-emptying love.

PRAYER
Christ our Lord, free us from every false strength that keeps us from your way. Empty us of pride, cruelty, fear, and the need to control. Teach us to recognize your lordship not in domination, but in humble love that serves, heals, and remakes the world. Amen.


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

FAITH, HOPE, LOVE, Part 1: When Your Résumé Becomes a Mask

Read Luke 18:9–14

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“Not that we are qualified of ourselves to claim anything as coming from us; our qualification is from God.” (2 Corinthians 3:5 NLT)

A professionally dressed woman sits composed at an interview table with folded hands resting above her résumé and an empty chair across from her. In the dark window behind her, her reflection appears weary and unguarded. The Life-Giving Water Devotions logo appears at the bottom.
Image: AI-generated using DALL·E and customized by the author. Used with the devotional “When Your Résumé Becomes a Mask” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

Faith, hope, and love are more than ideas Paul placed beside one another in a memorable verse. They describe a life continually reordered by the grace of Christ: faith loosening our grip on certainty, hope opening a future beyond what we can see, and love transforming how we understand ourselves and one another. In this series, we will follow that grace beneath religious appearances, inherited assumptions, and carefully defended identities until the gospel becomes visible in the lives we live.

The résumé rests on the desk between you.

Your education is there. Your experience. Your accomplishments. The positions you have held and the skills you have acquired. Every line has been carefully selected to present the strongest possible version of you.

Then the interviewer looks up.

“Tell me about yourself.”

For a moment, you wonder what remains to be said. The document already contains the person you came prepared to present. Still, you begin rehearsing its contents in complete sentences. You speak confidently about your strengths, your experience, and the value you would bring.

Then comes the question everyone knows is coming.

“What is your greatest weakness?”

You cannot say anything too honest. This is not the moment to mention the flaw that has damaged relationships, cost opportunities, or kept you awake at night. So you choose something safe. You care too much. You work too hard. You occasionally become so committed to excellence that you forget to rest.

The interviewer nods. You smile. Your weakness has successfully completed its transformation into another strength.

In the story Jesus tells, two people enter the temple to pray. The Pharisee arrives with a spiritual résumé. He has practiced his faith diligently. He fasts. He gives. He has avoided conduct his religious community condemns. None of those practices is inherently wrong. In fact, on their own, they are quite good.

The problem is what he has made them mean.

His résumé no longer describes his devotion. It proves his superiority. He stands before God listing his qualifications and then points toward the tax collector as evidence that he deserves a higher place. He does not simply believe that he knows where he stands with God. He assumes the authority to determine where someone else stands.

His prayer begins with God, but it never truly reaches beyond himself. In a way, it’s hard to see where he ends and God begins.

The tax collector has no impressive document to present. His position has allowed him to profit from an imperial system that extracts wealth from his own people. Perhaps he enjoys the money, power, and protection his role provides. Jesus does not tell us that he has resigned, repaid anyone, or repaired the damage he has helped cause.

The tax collector does not claim innocence. Neither does he announce that he is worthless, disgusting, or beyond redemption. He does not say, “God, I loathe myself.”

He simply tells the truth.

He knows his position has harmed people. He knows that no polished explanation can turn exploitation into righteousness. He knows he cannot stand before God pretending that his life has cost others nothing.

So he asks for mercy.

That is humility. Humility is not hating yourself. It is not shrinking until you disappear or treating your existence as an offense God reluctantly tolerates. Self-hatred can become another form of fixation upon the self—another form of idolatry.

Humility is seeing yourself truthfully before God, without inflation and without erasure.

Grace does not require you to discard your gifts, education, experience, or accomplishments. Grace does not erase the person you have become. It releases you from using those things to prove your worth. It removes the exhausting burden of persuading God, other people, and yourself that you deserve to be loved.

Churches do not always make that easy. We proclaim grace while rewarding the most polished spiritual résumés. We elevate people who appear certain, productive, respectable, and endlessly available. We can make usefulness look like holiness and visible success look like divine approval. Eventually, people learn to bring curated versions of themselves into worship while their frightened, wounded, complicated selves wait outside.

But God is not conducting an interview.

You are not competing against the person praying beside you. You do not need to disguise your wounds as strengths, list your good deeds, or prove that someone else is less deserving. God already sees beneath every carefully constructed answer.

The unsettling question is not whether your résumé is impressive.

The question is whether it has become a mask.

Who are you when you stop presenting evidence that you deserve to be loved?

You are the person God already knows.

You are the person grace is already reaching.

And you may finally discover that the self beneath the mask does not need to earn mercy, only receive it.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
Humility is standing truthfully before God without making yourself either superior or worthless.

PRAYER
Merciful God, free me from the need to prove my worth or measure it against another person. Help me see myself honestly, receive grace without performance, and extend that same mercy to others. Amen.


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

Sacred Signs of Subversion, Special Devotion: Collars, Robes, and Stoles

Read Matthew 23:1–12

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“Clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.” (Colossians 3:12 NLT)

Symbols carry memory and meaning far beyond words. The Church has always leaned on them—sometimes hidden in plain sight, sometimes dismissed or distorted. Yet the most powerful symbols are those that subvert the world’s expectations and draw us back to the radical heart of the Gospel. In this series, we’ll look closer at the sacred signs that shock, unsettle, and ultimately call us deeper into Christ.

A folded clerical collar rests on a plain robe, with a red-and-beige stole draped across them on a wooden altar table. Warm morning light streams through a stained-glass window, symbolizing humility, transparency, and Christ’s shared yoke of service.
Image: AI-generated using DALL·E and customized by the author. Used with the devotional “The Collar, the Robe, and the Stole” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

Special Edition: Collars, Robes, and Stoles. The collar, the robe, and the stole. In some churches, these garments can feel like litmus tests. Robe up, collar up, stole up—or even dress up—because that’s how it’s always been done. For many, they hold deep reverence, reminders of a time when sanctuaries were full and traditions were shared across generations. There’s nothing wrong with that nostalgia; it’s part of our story. But reverence can quietly turn to rigidity. When clothing becomes a credential for faithfulness, we risk mistaking habit for holiness.

The clerical collar began as a symbol of service—a visible sign that the one who wore it was yoked to Christ and bound to serve. It was never meant as a badge of rank. Over time, though, collars began to carry other meanings: authority, professionalism, even fear. For some, the collar has come to represent not safety but suspicion. The sins of the church have stained the fabric; the collar that once marked servanthood has too often been used to hide control. Yet its truest meaning remains: a quiet reminder that ministry is not ownership but obedience, not privilege but burden.

The robe began as a simple covering—worn by scholars and clergy alike to erase distinction. It was meant to conceal individuality, to say, “Before God, we are all the same.” Over time, robes became ornate, hierarchical, sometimes theatrical. They came to separate rather than unite. Still, the robe can remind us that when we stand before God, titles and talents fade. The robe isn’t meant to elevate the wearer but to lower the ego. It’s not costume—it’s supposed to be camouflage.

The stole traces back to the towel a servant would drape over their arm. Early Christians linked it to Jesus’ act of washing his disciples’ feet. It symbolized the weight of ministry—the responsibility to serve, to stoop, to bear one another’s burdens. In time, it also came to represent the yoke of Christ, reminding the one who wears it that ministry is never self-driven but shared with the Savior who said, “My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Over the centuries, the stole has become ornate and color-coded, a mark of office or season. But the truest stole is still the towel of service, the fabric of humility. If we wear it rightly, it should remind us that authority in Christ is always exercised from our knees—and that all Christians, not just clergy, are called to carry the same towel and yoke of humble service.

We remember the days when these symbols were everywhere—collars in the community, robes in every chancel, stoles changing colors with the calendar. But those years were not as innocent as we remember. Behind the beauty of tradition, harm sometimes hid in plain sight. Titles and vestments that once promised safety were sometimes used to silence, to cover, to control. That’s a hard truth to name, but it must be named if the Church is to heal and be a healing presence in the world.

These garments can still mean something sacred, but only if they’re worn with repentance and transparency. And as Ecclesiastes 3 says, there is a time and season for everything. If anything might stand as a stumbling block between God and another person, it should not be done just for tradition’s sake.

For some these are signs of the sacred—for others, signs of sin and evil committed in the name of God. That is why I choose to robe during Communion Sundays, high holy days, and special occasions—and remain more “me” and approachable the rest of the time. There is no one right way, but that has become my practice.

The question isn’t whether we wear them. The question is whether we live what they mean. The collar, the robe, and the stole can still witness to humility and grace—but only when they point beyond the wearer to Christ. When they become ends in themselves, they’re idols. When they become tools for service, they’re sacraments. Maybe the most subversive act of all is to remember that the truest vestment isn’t on our shoulders—it’s in our spirit. Compassion. Kindness. Humility. Gentleness. Patience. These are the garments the world still needs to see.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
[Enter Thought of the Day]

PRAYER
Christ our Servant, strip us of vanity and clothe us in truth. Whether we robe or not, let our lives reflect your humility. Make every symbol we wear a sign of grace, not power. Amen.


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

June 2, 2024 – Newton UMC – Sunday Worship Livestream

JOY Fellowship Worship Service in Holland Hall: 9:00 a.m.

Worship service streams live at 9:00 a.m. EST (-500 GMT)

Worship service streams live at 10:30 a.m. EST (-500 GMT)

Welcome to our live-streamed Sunday Worship Services for June 2, 2024. Today we discover that in the midst of our weaknesses and uncertainties, we carry the priceless treasure of Jesus Christ within us, empowering us to shine his light and serve his purpose as a united congregation, especially during times of transition.

Please support us by giving online: https://tithe.ly/give?c=1377216 or https://paypal.me/newtonumc Or you can make and mail a check out to First UMC of Newton, 111 Ryerson Ave., Newton, NJ O7860

God bless you all for your generosity which is vital to our mission and ministry.

May 26, 2024 – Newton UMC – Sunday Worship Livestream

JOY Fellowship Worship Service in Holland Hall: 9:00 a.m.

Worship service streams live at 9:00 a.m. EST (-500 GMT)

Worship service streams live at 10:30 a.m. EST (-500 GMT)

Welcome to our live-streamed Sunday Worship Services for May 26, 2024. Today we discover that today is the day we hear God’s call. Today is the day we recognize God has chosen us. Today is the day we are humbled by that calling. And today is the day that we are going to respond! Amen.

Please support us by giving online: https://tithe.ly/give?c=1377216 or https://paypal.me/newtonumc Or you can make and mail a check out to First UMC of Newton, 111 Ryerson Ave., Newton, NJ O7860

God bless you all for your generosity which is vital to our mission and ministry.

May 12, 2024 – Newton UMC – Sunday Worship Livestream

JOY Fellowship Worship Service in Holland Hall: 9:00 a.m.

Worship service streams live at 9:00 a.m. EST (-500 GMT)

Worship service streams live at 10:30 a.m. EST (-500 GMT)

Welcome to our live-streamed Sunday Worship Services for May 12, 2024. Today we discover that Through Jesus, God makes us a new creation – but not just us! God makes everything new and entrusts us to take action that it might be so.

Please support us by giving online: https://tithe.ly/give?c=1377216 or https://paypal.me/newtonumc Or you can make and mail a check out to First UMC of Newton, 111 Ryerson Ave., Newton, NJ O7860

God bless you all for your generosity which is vital to our mission and ministry.

May 5, 2024 – Newton UMC – Sunday Worship Livestream

JOY Fellowship Worship Service in Holland Hall: 9:00 a.m.

Worship service streams live at 9:00 a.m. EST (-500 GMT)

Worship service streams live at 10:30 a.m. EST (-500 GMT)

Welcome to our live-streamed Sunday Worship Services for May 5, 2024. Today we discover that humanity’s sin and brokenness has had devastating effects on the world for which we are called to care. As earth’s stewards, living into our resurrection hope involves reckoning with our failures and working for the freedom of all creation – human and nonhuman alike.

Please support us by giving online: https://tithe.ly/give?c=1377216 or https://paypal.me/newtonumc Or you can make and mail a check out to First UMC of Newton, 111 Ryerson Ave., Newton, NJ O7860

God bless you all for your generosity which is vital to our mission and ministry.

April 21, 2024 – Newton UMC – Sunday Worship Livestream

JOY Fellowship Worship Service in Holland Hall: 9:00 a.m.

Worship service streams live at 9:00 a.m. EST (-500 GMT)

Worship service streams live at 10:30 a.m. EST (-500 GMT)

Welcome to our live-streamed Sunday Worship Services for April 21, 2024. Today we discover that as human beings, we tend to think the world revolves around us! As scripture opens our eyes to the fullness of God’s creation, let us consider a shift in perspective. We are but one part of God’s magnificent creation. What does creation tell us if we listen?

Please support us by giving online: https://tithe.ly/give?c=1377216 or https://paypal.me/newtonumc Or you can make and mail a check out to First UMC of Newton, 111 Ryerson Ave., Newton, NJ O7860

God bless you all for your generosity which is vital to our mission and ministry.

April 14, 2024 – Newton UMC – Sunday Worship Livestream

JOY Fellowship Worship Service in Holland Hall: 9:00 a.m.

Worship service streams live at 9:00 a.m. EST (-500 GMT)

Worship service streams live at 10:30 a.m. EST (-500 GMT)

Welcome to our live-streamed Sunday Worship Services for April 14, 2024. Today we learn that in resurrecting, Jesus gives us hope for new life. This hope is life and joy for all creation!

Please support us by giving online: https://tithe.ly/give?c=1377216 or https://paypal.me/newtonumc Or you can make and mail a check out to First UMC of Newton, 111 Ryerson Ave., Newton, NJ O7860

God bless you all for your generosity which is vital to our mission and ministry.