Tag Archives: Jesus Christ

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When Power Changes Us

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Read: Mark 10:35–45 (NLT)

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect.” (Romans 12:2 NLT)

Image: AI-generated using ChatGPT and customized by the author. Used with the devotional “When Power Changes Us” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

When I heard that the Rev. Adam Hamilton was running for the United States Senate, I found myself holding admiration and concern together. I have respected his ministry for years. He has helped many people encounter Jesus, wrestle honestly with Scripture, and discover a thoughtful expression of United Methodist Christianity. As a fellow ordained elder, I recognize the calling we share, even though our ministries have unfolded on very different scales. Now he is the senator-elect from Kansas, and the questions I carried through his campaign have become considerably more urgent.

Watching NBC News, I saw Rahm Emanuel’s excitement as he discussed Hamilton’s victory. In the coverage I watched, the celebration centered on a Democrat winning in Kansas and what that meant for political power. I can appreciate the hope people see in his victory. Yet I also noticed the different expectations gathering around it. Hamilton may understand his next chapter as an expression of Christian service. The political world welcoming him has its own expectations of what his victory will deliver.

Hamilton has every right to seek public office, and I believe his desire to serve is sincere. Now, however, the campaigning gives way to a harder question: now what? What happens when Christian discipleship encounters the obligations, incentives, and competing loyalties of governing power?

That question belongs to every Christian. Hamilton’s pastoral role gives it particular weight because pastors help others understand what faithful witness looks like. But the concern reaches well beyond clergy. Whenever we seek influence, support a candidate, or celebrate a political victory, we should examine what we expect power to accomplish and what we are willing to accept along the way.

James and John approach Jesus seeking places beside him in glory. They have followed him, learned from him, and witnessed his ministry. Still, their expectations reflect a world in which greatness means occupying the seats nearest the center of power.

Jesus asks whether they can share his cup and baptism. They confidently say they can. But the road ahead leads through suffering and the cross. They are asking for positions whose meaning they do not yet understand.

When the other disciples become angry, Jesus gathers them all. He describes rulers who dominate others and leaders who wield authority over them. Then he insists that his followers must practice a different kind of leadership. Greatness among them takes the shape of service. Jesus grounds that teaching in his own life, given for others.

These disciples already love Jesus. Their devotion has not prevented them from misunderstanding power. That should unsettle those of us who assume sincere faith will keep our ambitions in check.

Christians have responsibilities within society. We should care about laws, public decisions, and the neighbors whose lives they affect. Voting, advocacy, and public service can express that care. Withdrawal can leave vulnerable people facing injustice without our help.

Yet responsible participation does not make acquiring political office the mission Jesus entrusted to his followers. His ministry proclaimed and embodied God’s reign, called people into discipleship, and led him into confrontation with powers that ultimately crucified him. The promise of resurrection places our hope beyond what those powers can grant.

Paul likewise calls believers to live faithfully within their circumstances, attending to how their conduct bears witness to Christ. That instruction does not establish a universal mandate to seek governing office. Neither does it establish a universal prohibition. It leaves us with the demanding work of discernment: will this pursuit help us embody Christ’s way, and what will happen when the role requires something our discipleship cannot permit?

We cannot answer merely by listing the good we hope to accomplish.

Government involves negotiation. An incomplete agreement can bring real relief to people who cannot wait for perfect conditions. But some compromises teach us to excuse what we once recognized as wrong. How do we distinguish patient service from surrendering our convictions? Whose suffering becomes acceptable when keeping influence takes priority?

A new senator will need guidance from people who understand the institution. Those relationships may provide wisdom. They may also teach a newcomer which questions to stop asking and which injustices to tolerate. Political allies can welcome someone’s faith while expecting loyalty when that faith becomes inconvenient.

The rewards matter too. Salary, health coverage, retirement benefits, access, and public standing provide security while others struggle to afford groceries or medical care. Receiving compensation for service carries responsibility. It also gives us something personal to lose. Will we challenge arrangements that protect our comfort while leaving our neighbors exposed?

These questions reach those of us watching from home. Will we hold a politician we admire accountable? Will we excuse conduct from an ally that we condemn in an opponent? When someone bearing Christ’s name wins an election, do we begin treating their success as evidence that God approves their decisions?

Paul’s appeal in Romans 12 calls us toward continuing transformation. In response to God’s mercy, we offer our lives to God and resist conformity to the present age. Discernment requires renewed minds, humility, and a community in which we remain responsible to one another. An initial conviction that God called us somewhere cannot exempt our conduct there from examination.

Hamilton’s ministry helped establish the trust he now carries into public office. As a fellow elder, I care about what his example will teach. I hope he serves faithfully, protects vulnerable people, and remains open to correction. I also hope we resist making him carry expectations that no Christian politician can fulfill.

The same examination belongs in our congregations, workplaces, and homes. We can protect institutions at people’s expense. We can confuse security with faithfulness. We can become so invested in our ability to accomplish good that we stop examining what preserving that ability requires.

Human government can accomplish meaningful good. Our ultimate hope rests in God’s reign. Wherever we serve, people should encounter something of Jesus in how we treat them, especially when doing so costs us.

We may enter believing we will change the system. Who will help us recognize when the system is changing us? And when following Jesus puts our position at risk, will we still follow?

Those questions lead me to prayer. Adam Hamilton will have to walk a very fine line, and I do not imagine I could navigate it easily. Knowing myself, I suspect I would speak my convictions plainly and discover rather quickly how much influence that cost me. I recognize the difficulty of what he is undertaking, and I sincerely want him to remain faithful.

So I ask you to pray for Adam Hamilton. Pray that he serves his country faithfully while keeping his allegiance to Jesus Christ at the center of his life. Pray that he becomes a magnificent witness to Jesus through his decisions, his relationships, his treatment of vulnerable people, and his willingness to tell the truth when silence would be more convenient.

I believe that is possible through the grace of God. Without that grace, it is impossible. Neither a distinguished pastoral record nor strength of character can substitute for our continuing dependence on God. He will need grace to discern, grace to resist, grace to repent, and grace to surrender whatever faithfulness requires him to surrender.

May we pray for him with sincere hope, remain willing to hold him accountable, and receive the same searching grace in our own lives.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
Faithful witness depends on God’s grace at every step, especially when power gives us reasons to stop following.

PRAYER
God, surround Adam Hamilton with your grace as he prepares to serve. Give him wisdom to serve his country faithfully, courage to remain loyal to Jesus, and humility to receive correction. May his life and work bear a magnificent witness to Christ. Keep all of us dependent on your grace and willing to follow wherever you lead. Amen.

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FAITH, HOPE, LOVE, Part 6: Faith Without Permission

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Read Galatians 2:15–21

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“So we are made right with God through faith and not by obeying the law.” (Romans 3:28 NLT)

Image: AI-generated using DALL·E and customized by the author. Used with the devotional “Faith Without Permission” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

The doorbell rings. A young woman has brought her fiancé home to meet her parents. It’s an ordinary family moment, filled with introductions, polite conversation, and the nervous anticipation that comes with meeting the person your child intends to marry. Except this is 1967. The young woman is white. Her fiancé is Black. And her parents, who have always considered themselves progressive and committed to racial equality, suddenly find their convictions sitting in their living room.

That is the tension at the heart of Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner. The question is no longer what this family believes about equality. The question is what happens when those beliefs walk through the front door.

The film was released the same year the United States Supreme Court struck down laws prohibiting interracial marriage. Its central conflict exposed a contradiction that remains painfully familiar: people can sincerely believe in inclusion while struggling to practice it when inclusion challenges their comfort, expectations, or social standing.

Nearly two thousand years earlier, the apostle Peter found himself confronting a remarkably similar contradiction.

In Galatians 2, Paul recounts an incident in Antioch involving Peter and the Gentile believers. Peter had been sharing meals with them, recognizing through his actions that they belonged to the same community of faith. But when certain people associated with James, Jesus’ brother, arrived, Peter withdrew from those meals because he feared the criticism of those who insisted on circumcision.

Peter knew better. He had already crossed the boundary. He had already welcomed these believers as family. Yet when the wrong people walked into the room, he began behaving as though the boundary still mattered.

Paul confronted him publicly because this was not merely an awkward social situation. Peter’s behavior threatened the very truth of the gospel.

The issue was not whether Jewish believers could continue observing their religious traditions. The issue was whether Gentile believers had to adopt those traditions to be considered fully acceptable members of Christ’s community. By withdrawing from their table, Peter was effectively communicating that their belonging was conditional.

And that is where this ancient confrontation becomes uncomfortably contemporary.

Churches regularly proclaim that everyone is welcome. We place the words on signs, print them in bulletins, and announce them from pulpits. We insist that God’s love is unconditional and that salvation comes through grace rather than human achievement.

But what happens when someone actually arrives who challenges our understanding of who belongs?

Perhaps they come from a different religious background, have a complicated personal history, live with a disability, struggle financially, or understand their identity in ways that make others uncomfortable. Perhaps they ask questions we would rather not answer or refuse to pretend that their lives fit neatly into our expectations.

We may welcome them through the doors while quietly communicating that full acceptance requires something more. They can attend, but can they participate? They can worship, but can they lead? They can sit at the table, but will we still sit beside them when someone whose approval we value enters the room?

There is a difference between welcoming people into a building and welcoming them into a community.

Paul’s argument in Galatians 2 strikes at the heart of that distinction. We are made right with God through faith in Jesus Christ, not through satisfying a religious system’s requirements. If righteousness could be obtained through the law, Paul argues, then Christ died for nothing.

This does not mean faith has no ethical demands or that Christian communities should abandon accountability. It means we must distinguish between being transformed by Christ and being required to conform to someone else’s expectations before we are treated as belonging to Christ.

The difference matters.

Peter’s failure was not that he lacked theological knowledge. He understood that Gentile believers belonged. His failure was allowing fear to determine whether he would act according to what he knew. He did not need another lesson about grace. He needed the courage to live the grace he already professed.

And perhaps that is precisely what the church needs to hear.

We can have beautifully written statements of welcome, thoughtful theology, and passionate sermons about God’s unconditional love. But if our welcome disappears whenever it becomes inconvenient, our words become little more than decoration.

Faith is not simply agreeing that Christ has broken down the barriers separating people from God. Faith means refusing to rebuild those barriers ourselves.

In Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, the question is whether a family’s professed convictions can withstand the arrival of someone they had never imagined welcoming so intimately. In Antioch, the question was whether Peter would continue sharing a table with people he already knew belonged.

And in the church today, the question remains.

When someone comes to the table, will we make room? Or will we look around first to see who’s watching?

Christ has already extended the invitation.

Who gave us permission to take it back?

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
Faith is not proven by whom we say God welcomes, but by whom we are willing to welcome ourselves.

PRAYER
God of boundless grace, forgive us for the barriers we rebuild after Christ has torn them down. Give us the courage to live the welcome we proclaim, especially when doing so challenges our comfort or costs us the approval of others. Teach us to recognize your grace at work in people we might otherwise overlook, and make our tables places where your love is practiced rather than merely promised. Amen.

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

Devotional, Series

FAITH, HOPE, LOVE, Part 5: The Merit of Grace

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Read Romans 3:21–31

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“I do not treat the grace of God as meaningless. For if keeping the law could make us right with God, then there was no need for Christ to die. (Galatians 2:21 NLT)

Image: AI-generated using DALL·E and customized by the author. Used with the devotional “The Merit of Grace” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

Charlie Bucket deserves the chocolate factory.

That is part of what makes Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory so satisfying. Five children receive golden tickets and enter Wonka’s strange, wonderful world, and one by one, four of them fail. Augustus cannot control his appetite. Violet refuses to listen. Veruca demands whatever she wants. Mike ignores every warning because he is convinced he knows better.

And then there is Charlie. He is poor, humble, and devoted to his family. He makes mistakes, but when the final test comes, he returns what does not belong to him. He does the right thing when there appears to be nothing left to gain from doing it. Wonka rewards him because Charlie has proven himself worthy of the factory. It is a wonderful story, and it works because we believe Charlie deserves what he receives.

It is also not grace.

We understand Wonka’s system instinctively because most of us have spent our lives inside systems of deservingness. Work hard and you deserve success. Make good choices and you deserve good consequences. Contribute enough and you deserve assistance when you need it. Follow the rules and you deserve respect. Prove yourself useful and you deserve a place at the table. We call it meritocracy, and there is something appealing about it because actions, work, and responsibility really do matter.

The problem comes when achievement becomes a measurement of human worth. Then the person who succeeds must somehow be better than the person who struggles. Poverty becomes evidence of irresponsibility. Wealth becomes evidence of virtue. Productivity becomes worthiness and need becomes failure. We begin sorting people into those who have earned what they have and those who deserve whatever happens to them.

Society does this constantly.

But so does the church.

Churches measure things: attendance, giving, baptisms, professions of faith, new members, small groups, mission participation, worship growth. We collect statistics, study trends, and talk about vitality. Some of that is necessary. Numbers can tell us things we need to know. They can expose problems we might rather ignore and help us understand whether our ministries are actually reaching people.

But measurements can quietly become merit. A growing congregation becomes a successful congregation, while a declining congregation becomes a failing one. A pastor whose numbers increase appears effective, while one whose numbers decrease becomes suspect. Churches with resources look worthy of investment while struggling churches begin to look like liabilities. Statistics that were supposed to help us understand ministry can become a scoreboard determining whose ministry matters.

We are measuring worth.

Paul tears straight through that system. In Romans 3, he asks what room remains for boasting after the grace of God revealed in Jesus Christ. His answer is none. Righteousness is not the prize at the end of a spiritual competition. Nobody reaches God’s grace by outperforming everyone else. Nobody receives the kingdom because they survived the tour while Augustus fell into the chocolate river and Veruca went down the garbage chute. We receive grace because grace is gift.

Galatians makes the point even sharper. Paul insists that if we could make ourselves right with God through our ability to satisfy the system, then Christ died for nothing. Christians can proclaim salvation by grace while constructing communities organized around merit. We can preach that nobody earns God’s love and then spend the rest of the week deciding which people, pastors, congregations, and ministries have demonstrated enough value to deserve ours.

The cross will not let us do that comfortably. Christ crucified exposes what happens when human systems decide who matters, who succeeds, who fails, and whose life is expendable. Grace announces something those systems cannot tolerate:

Your worth was never theirs to calculate.

That does not mean faithfulness does not matter. It does not mean churches should ignore decline, leaders should avoid accountability, or Christians should stop asking whether our ministries bear fruit. It means fruit is not the same thing as worth. There are faithful churches with shrinking membership. There are flourishing ministries whose impact cannot be captured on a statistical report. There are people doing holy work that will never produce impressive numbers. And there are successful institutions whose statistics look wonderful while their witness looks nothing like Christ.

Charlie Bucket deserves the factory, and that is why Wonka gives it to him. But the kingdom of God is not a chocolate factory. There are no golden tickets and no scoreboard determining who has accumulated enough merit to belong. Grace does not gather the winners at the end of the tour and congratulate them for being better than everybody who disappeared along the way.

Grace gives us what none of us could ever claim to deserve.

Maybe the question is not whether we have done enough to deserve what God gives us, but what might happen if the church finally believed that nobody had to.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
Grace stops being grace the moment we turn it into something anyone must deserve.

PRAYER
God of grace, free us from the need to measure our worth against the success or failure of others. Teach us to recognize the difference between faithful accountability and systems that turn achievement into value. Strip away our boasting, widen our mercy, and shape us into people who receive your grace as gift and extend it just as freely. Amen.

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

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

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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)

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).

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From the Archives: Away With Yesterday

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Read Matthew 6:25-34

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:6-7, NLT).

The Beatles’ iconic song “Yesterday” begins with a poignant reflection: “Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it looks as though they’re here to stay. Oh, I believe in yesterday.” These lyrics capture a sentiment many of us experience – a longing for the past, when life seemed simpler or more carefree. We often find ourselves dwelling on bygone days or fretting about an uncertain future, missing the beauty and potential of the present moment.

In Matthew 6:25-34, Jesus addresses this very human tendency to worry about what’s to come. He reminds us that our Divine Creator, who cares for the birds of the air and the flowers of the field, cares infinitely more for us. Jesus encourages us to focus on today, trusting God with our needs and concerns.

The song continues, “Suddenly, I’m not half the man I used to be. There’s a shadow hanging over me. Oh, yesterday came suddenly.” These lines evoke a sense of loss and anxiety about change. How often do we allow the shadows of past regrets or future uncertainties to dim the light of our present?

Yet, Jesus calls us to a different perspective. He invites us to seek first God’s kingdom and righteousness, assuring us that everything else will fall into place. This doesn’t mean we’ll never face challenges, but it does promise that God will provide what we truly need.

In Philippians 4:6-7, Paul echoes this teaching, urging us to replace worry with prayer and thanksgiving. When we bring our concerns to God, we open ourselves to Divine peace – a peace that surpasses our understanding and guards our hearts and minds.

The final verses of “Yesterday” express a desire to “hide away” from present troubles. But Jesus and Paul point us toward a better way: facing today with faith, prayer, and trust in God’s provision. Instead of hiding, we’re called to engage fully with the present, knowing that God is with us.

This call to live in the present is not about ignoring the lessons of the past or failing to plan for the future. Rather, it’s about recognizing that the only moment we can truly impact is the one we’re in right now. When we fixate on yesterday’s mistakes or tomorrow’s uncertainties, we rob ourselves of the opportunity to fully experience and engage with today’s blessings and challenges.

Living in the present also allows us to be more attuned to God’s presence in our daily lives. It’s in the here and now that we can witness the small miracles of everyday life – the kindness of a stranger, the beauty of nature, or the comfort of a friend’s words. These moments, easily overlooked when we’re preoccupied with past or future, can be powerful reminders of God’s constant care and presence.

Moreover, staying present enables us to be more responsive to the needs of those around us. When we’re not consumed by our own worries about yesterday or tomorrow, we’re better able to notice and respond to the joys and struggles of our neighbors, friends, and family. This awareness and responsiveness is at the heart of living out our faith in practical, meaningful ways.

As we navigate life’s ups and downs, let’s remember that each day is a gift. Rather than yearning for yesterday or anxiously anticipating tomorrow, we can choose to embrace today. We can trust that God, who has seen us through past challenges, will continue to guide and provide for us in the future.

The Beatles may have sung, “Oh, I believe in yesterday,” but as followers of Christ, we’re called to believe in the God of today who gives us the promise and hope of tomorrow. We’re invited to trust in a Divine love that transcends time, encompassing our past, present, and future. By anchoring ourselves in this truth, we can find the strength and peace to fully engage with each day as it comes, knowing that we are held in God’s eternal care.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
Today is the only day we have. How can I fully engage with it, trusting God with both my past and my future?

PRAYER
Divine Creator, help me release yesterday’s regrets and tomorrow’s worries, embracing the gift of today. Guide me to live fully in Your presence. Amen.

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

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From the Archives: People Are Strange

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Read Leviticus 19:33-34

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“So now you Gentiles are no longer strangers and foreigners. You are citizens along with all of God’s holy people. You are members of God’s family.” (Ephesians 2:19 NLT)

Image created by Rev. Todd R. Lattig with the assistance of AI developed by Microsoft.

The Doors have long been one of my favorite bands and a major artistic influence. Jim Morrison’s profound and provocative lyrics, combined with the band’s eclectic and transcendent sound, explored themes that were often ahead of their time. Jim himself was sometimes downright prophetic, once predicting that future generations would combine different musical styles in innovative ways. In a 1969 interview, he specifically mentioned the fusion of “black” music and country western, a prediction that has been realized in various forms of contemporary music.[i]

Taylor Swift, for instance, has successfully blended elements of country, pop, and other genres throughout her career, exemplifying the kind of musical evolution Morrison foresaw. He also suggested a third element might be “electronics,” which has indeed become a dominant force in modern music production across numerous genres.

One of their most iconic songs, “People Are Strange,” captures the essence of alienation and isolation that many of us experience at times. The lyrics paint a vivid picture of feeling like an outsider:

“People are strange when you’re a stranger,
Faces look ugly when you’re alone.
Women seem wicked when you’re unwanted,
Streets are uneven when you’re down.”

These words resonate with the human experience of feeling disconnected and out of place in society. We’ve all had moments where the world seems hostile, faces appear unfriendly, and we feel unwanted or misunderstood.

However, Scripture offers us a powerful counterpoint to this cynicism and isolation. In Leviticus 19:33-34 (NLT), we read:

“Do not take advantage of foreigners who live among you in your land. Treat them like native-born Israelites, and love them as you love yourself. Remember that you were once foreigners living in the land of Egypt. I am the Lord your God.”

This passage reminds us that God calls us to embrace those who might feel like strangers or outsiders. We are instructed to treat them as if they were native-born, with love and respect. This command is rooted in the Israelites’ own experience as foreigners in Egypt, encouraging empathy and compassion.

Furthermore, Ephesians 2:19 extends this concept into the New Testament, declaring that in Christ, we are no longer strangers and foreigners but citizens and family members in God’s household. This verse offers a profound shift in perspective – from alienation to inclusion, from isolation to belonging.

While “People Are Strange” captures the pain of feeling like an outsider, Scripture guides us towards a different reality. In God’s kingdom, there are no strangers. We are all welcomed, loved, and included as valuable members of God’s family. This truth transforms our outlook, enabling us to see others not as strange or threatening, but as fellow citizens in God’s household.

As followers of Christ, we are called to be agents of this inclusive love. We should actively seek out those who feel like outsiders and welcome them into our communities. By doing so, we reflect God’s heart and help others experience the belonging and acceptance that we have found in God.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
In God’s family, there are no strangers – only siblings waiting to be embraced.

PRAYER
Loving God, thank you for welcoming us into your family. Help us to see others through your eyes of love and inclusion. Give us the courage to reach out to those who feel like strangers, showing them the belonging and acceptance found in your kingdom. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

[i] Jim Morrison, “The Future of Music,” YouTube video, 1:23, posted by ” Michael Gosselin,” May 4, 2006, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iS3dIyHpAgc. (Accessed June 20, 2024).       

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

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From the Archives: Us and Them

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Read 1 Corinthians 1:10-13

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“Make every effort to keep yourselves united in the Spirit, binding yourselves together with peace.” (Ephesians 4:3 NLT)

Image created with the assistance of AI powered by Microsoft.

The church in Corinth was a vibrant but troubled community. Paul, in his first letter to the Corinthians, addresses a myriad of issues, but one of the most pressing was the division among the believers. In 1 Corinthians 1:10-13, Paul appeals to the church to be united, urging them to agree with one another and avoid divisions. He emphasizes that they should be perfectly united in mind and thought, reminding them that Christ is not divided, and neither should His body, the church, be.

This call for unity is echoed in the haunting lyrics of Pink Floyd’s “Us and Them.” The song, written by Roger Waters and Richard Wright, delves into the themes of conflict and division, highlighting the arbitrary lines that separate people. “Us and them / And after all, we’re only ordinary men,” the song laments, pointing out the common humanity that should unite us rather than divide us. The song’s reflection on the futility of conflict and the shared human experience resonates deeply with Paul’s message to the Corinthians.

In Corinth, the divisions were based on allegiance to different leaders. Some claimed to follow Paul, others Apollos, or Cephas (Peter). This factionalism was tearing the church apart. Paul’s rhetorical questions, “Is Christ divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Were you baptized in the name of Paul?” serve to remind the Corinthians that their primary allegiance should be to Christ alone. The leaders they were aligning themselves with were merely servants of Christ, not the source of their salvation.

The divisions in Corinth can be seen as a microcosm of the broader human tendency to create “us vs. them” scenarios. Whether in religious communities, political arenas, or social contexts, humans have a propensity to divide themselves into groups, often leading to conflict and strife. Pink Floyd’s “Us and Them” captures this dynamic poignantly, with its melancholic melody and reflective lyrics. The song’s verses describe various scenarios of division and conflict, from war to social inequality, underscoring the senselessness of these divisions.

Paul’s call to unity in 1 Corinthians 1:10-13 is not just about avoiding conflict; it’s about recognizing the deeper spiritual reality that, in Christ, we are one. This unity is not uniformity; it does not mean that we all have to think, act, or look the same. Rather, it is a unity that celebrates diversity while being rooted in the common foundation of Jesus Christ. This is a unity that transcends human divisions and reflects the nature of the Triune God – diverse yet one.

Ephesians 4:3 reinforces this idea, urging believers to “make every effort to keep yourselves united in the Spirit, binding yourselves together with peace.” This unity is a gift from the Holy Spirit, but it requires effort on our part to maintain it. It involves humility, patience, and a willingness to bear with one another in love. It means prioritizing our shared identity in Christ over our individual preferences and allegiances.

In practical terms, this call to unity challenges us to examine our own lives and communities. Are there ways in which we are contributing to division rather than unity? Are we aligning ourselves with human leaders or ideologies in a way that detracts from our primary allegiance to Christ? Are we making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace?

Reflecting on “Us and Them,” we can see the tragic consequences of division and conflict. The song’s powerful imagery and emotive music remind us of the shared humanity that should unite us. As followers of Christ, we are called to go even further – to recognize that our unity is not just based on our common humanity, but on our shared identity in Christ. This unity is a powerful witness to the world of the transformative power of the gospel.

In a world that is increasingly polarized, the church has a unique opportunity to model a different way of being. By living out the unity that Paul calls for in 1 Corinthians 1:10-13, we can demonstrate the reconciling power of Christ. This unity is not just for our own benefit; it is a testimony to the world of the love and grace of God.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
In Christ, there is no “us” and “them” – we are one body, united by His love and sacrifice. Let us strive to live out this unity in our daily lives, reflecting the peace and reconciliation that Christ brings.

PRAYER
Lord, help us to see past our divisions and embrace the unity You desire for Your church. May we find our identity in You alone and work diligently to maintain the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. Amen.

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

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From the Archives: The Road Less Traveled

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Read Deuteronomy 30:19-20

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30 NLT)

Image created by Rev. Todd R. Lattig with the assistance of AI developed by Microsoft.

As a lifelong fan of Elton John, I have an immense appreciation for his artistry and the brilliant songwriting partnership he has had with Bernie Taupin for over five decades. My love for Elton John’s music began in my childhood, listening to his songs on 8-Track and vinyl, as he was one of my mom’s favorite artists. Taupin’s poetic, narrative lyrics have provided the perfect complement to Elton’s soaring melodies and vocal performances. Of all their collaborations, the 1973 classic “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” stands out as one of the most poignant and relatable songs in their vast catalog.

The song’s lyrics, penned by Taupin, speak to me on a deep, personal level. They evoke a longing for a simpler way of life, far removed from the trappings of fame, wealth, and the superficial “yellow brick road” that mainstream success can often represent. The opening lines immediately transport the listener to a place of disillusionment: “When are you gonna come down? When are you going to land? I should have stayed on the farm, I should have listened to my old man.”

These words resonate with me, as they capture the feeling of being caught up in the whirlwind of modern life, chasing after ambitions and material pursuits, only to realize that true fulfillment may lie in the simple joys and grounded existence we left behind. Growing up in a small rural New Jersey town, my childhood was filled with simple pleasures – taking day trips to nearby state parks, hiking portions of the Appalachian Trail, day trips to the Jersey shore. Some of my fondest memories are of working alongside my family in our yard, tending to the gardens, raking leaves, and simply enjoying each other’s company amidst nature’s beauty.

The narrator in the song expresses a desire to escape the superficial world of penthouses and societal expectations, declaring “You can’t plant me in your penthouse, I’m going back to my plough.” For me, this lyric sparks a longing for a return to that simplicity – being content with the basics that truly matter, not constantly striving for more. Even now, surrounded by the rural charm of the Pocono Mountains in Pennsylvania, I find myself yearning for that childlike wonder and satisfaction with life’s simple pleasures.

Yet, Taupin’s lyrics also acknowledge the harsh realities and potential consequences of rejecting the mainstream path. The narrator wonders, “What do you think you’ll do then? I bet they’ll shoot down the plane. It’ll take you a couple of vodka and tonics to set you on your feet again.” There’s a recognition that stepping off the “yellow brick road” may come at a cost, both personally and professionally.

Despite these warnings, the song’s resolution is unwavering: “Oh, I’ve finally decided my future lies beyond the yellow brick road.” This defiant declaration resonates deeply, reminding us that true happiness and fulfillment often lie in the road less traveled, in the pursuit of authenticity and a life aligned with our core values.

Elton John’s soaring vocals and Taupin’s evocative lyrics combine to create a timeless masterpiece that continues to inspire and comfort me whenever I find myself longing for a simpler, more grounded existence. “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” is a testament to the enduring power of their artistic partnership and a reminder that, even in the face of societal pressures and expectations, we must stay true to ourselves and our roots.

In Deuteronomy 30:19-20, Moses presents the Israelites with a profound choice – to choose life by obeying God’s commandments or to choose death by disobeying. This choice echoes the theme of “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road,” where the lyrics express a longing to leave behind the allure of fame and fortune and return to a simpler, more authentic way of living. God’s ways are often simpler than our own, yet it is in our resisting obedience to God that causes us to complicate and trivialize life in a way that burdens us beyond belief.

Jesus extends the same invitation in Matthew 11:28-30, calling us to come to him and find rest for our souls. The world’s burdens and pursuits can leave us weary, but in Christ, we find a gentle and humble savior who offers us a light yoke and an easy burden. When we choose to follow him, we discover the true meaning of life – a life of purpose, peace, and eternal significance. Like the narrator in the song, we are called to “go back to our plough,” returning to the simple yet profound truths of God’s word and ways. It is a choice to leave behind the distractions and false promises of the world and embrace the authentic, fulfilling life that God has lovingly designed for God’s children.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
True life is found not in chasing the “Yellow Brick Road” of worldly success but in choosing to follow Christ and obey God’s commandments.

PRAYER
Lord, help us to choose the road that leads to life – a life of obedience, purpose, and rest in you. Amen.

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

Devotional, Series

God Beginnings, Part 8: Known by Name

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Read Isaiah 43:1–7

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“’Mary!’ Jesus said. She turned to him and cried out, ‘Rabboni!’ (which is Hebrew for “Teacher”).” (John 20:16 NLT)

Image: AI-generated using DALL·E and customized by the author. Used with the devotional “Known by Name” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

Mary Magdalene had likely heard many things said about her. Troubled. Unclean. Possessed. Crazy. That woman. The one with the demons. Scripture tells us that Jesus had freed her from seven demons, and even after her healing, people may still have defined her by what had once afflicted her. Communities are often slow to release someone from an old reputation. A person can be restored to life while others continue calling them by the name of their former suffering.

Then, outside the empty tomb, Mary hears one word:

“Mary!”

Jesus does not call her by her history, her affliction, or her social category. Jesus calls her by name.

That moment changes everything. The tomb is still there. Mary’s grief has been real. The violence that killed Jesus has not been erased. Yet when the risen Christ speaks her name, Mary recognizes that death has not ended the story. She is personally known by the One who calls life out of death.

Through the prophet Isaiah, God spoke with that same intimacy to a people whose circumstances had made them feel forgotten. They had experienced judgment, displacement, and uncertainty. Their life together had been wounded, and the future before them remained unclear. Yet God began not with their failures or their captivity, but with a reminder of who formed them:

“I have called you by name; you are mine.”

God’s knowledge of Israel was not merely informational. God did not simply know facts about the people. God created, formed, redeemed, named, accompanied, and gathered them. They were known through relationship. They belonged to God, not because they had successfully earned recognition, but because God’s faithfulness reached them even within exile.

Friends, God knows us by name and calls us into new life.

Being known by God does not mean that deep waters, raging rivers, or consuming fires will never come. Isaiah promises no such exemption. God’s people will pass through dangerous places. What God promises is presence: the waters will not overwhelm them, the rivers will not sweep them away, and the fire will not consume them.

Those forces may affect their lives, but they do not get to define their identities. Exile does not erase their belonging. Suffering does not cancel their worth. Captivity does not become their name.

When God says, “You are mine,” this is not the possessive claim of someone trying to control another person. Human beings often use belonging as an excuse to dominate: You are mine, so I decide who you must be. You belong here, so you must conform. We accepted you, so you owe us the version of yourself we prefer.

God’s claim moves in the opposite direction. God refuses to surrender a person’s identity to captivity, shame, danger, or the judgments of others. God’s naming restores belonging; it does not remove personhood.

The world often names people in order to control them. God calls people by name in order to restore them.

Our world is skilled at assigning labels. People are called respectable or embarrassing, normal or deviant, faithful or troublesome, useful or disposable. A person may be reduced to what happened to them, something they once did, a condition with which they live, the body they inhabit, the person they love, or the ways they fail to meet someone else’s expectations.

Institutions assign names too. Sometimes they decide who is welcome, who may speak, who possesses authority, and whose testimony can be trusted. They may insist that people hide pieces of themselves, perform an approved identity, or answer to labels that make everyone else more comfortable.

Even the Church can become more invested in naming people than in knowing them. We may attach a category to someone and imagine that we have understood the whole person. We may speak about people without listening to them. We may demand that they answer to identities formed by our fear, prejudice, theology, or need for control—and then call that demand faithfulness.

The unsettling question is unavoidable:

Does the Church help people hear God calling their names, or demand that they answer to names God never gave them?

Mary stands before the risen Christ carrying grief, confusion, and a history others may have used against her. Jesus does not reduce her to any of it. Jesus calls her, “Mary.”

In hearing her name, Mary recognizes Christ. She also receives a new beginning. Jesus does not merely comfort her and send her back into silence. Mary is called into witness. The woman whose society might have questioned or dismissed her testimony becomes the one entrusted to announce resurrection to the disciples. What’s more, Jesus then sends her, “that woman”, to be the first preacher of the Gospel!

Christ’s recognition does not wait for institutional permission.

That does not mean God’s call invents an entirely different person or removes everything that came before. Mary remained Mary. Her history remained part of her story. But neither her suffering nor the labels attached to it could contain what she was becoming. The risen Christ called the person who had always been there into a life that death, shame, and social judgment could not prevent.

God knows who we are, friends—even when the world does not.

God knows us beneath the labels others have imposed, beneath the roles we have learned to perform, and beneath the false selves we have constructed to remain acceptable. God does not call us away from the person God created. God calls us out of whatever has prevented that person from living fully.

A God beginning may start with hearing our name spoken beyond all the noise that tried to rename us. It may begin when we discover that God has never confused us with our wounds, our failures, or the categories others used to contain us. It may begin when we finally trust that being fully known by God does not erase us—it restores us.

The risen Christ still stands near places we have mistaken for endings. Christ still calls people whom the world has mislabeled, underestimated, or dismissed. Christ still speaks our names—not to control who we may become, but to call us into resurrection life.

Listen.

God knows your name.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
God knows us by name and calls us into new life.

PRAYER
God who creates, forms, and restores us, help us hear your voice beyond every label that has diminished or confined us. Teach us to recognize others as people you know by name, and give us courage to answer when you call us into new life. Amen.

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

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From the Archives: SEVEN LOADED LETTERS, Part 8: The Church That Held On

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SEVEN LOADED LETTERS, Part 8: The Church That Held On

Read Revelation 3:7-13

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“The Lord your God is living among you. He is a mighty savior. He will take delight in you with gladness. With his love, he will calm all your fears. He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.” (Zephaniah 3:17 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 Held On” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

Part 8: The Church That Held On. Jesus’ words to Philadelphia stand apart from the others. This church receives no rebuke. No harsh critique. Just encouragement, affirmation, and a simple plea: keep going. In a world addicted to power and spectacle, Jesus recognizes their quiet faithfulness. “You have little strength,” he says, “yet you obeyed my word and did not deny me.”

Philadelphia wasn’t the biggest or flashiest church. They didn’t have the numbers, the budget, or the prestige. But they had integrity. And when everything in the surrounding culture told them to compromise, to conform, to just give up—they held on.

Today, that kind of faith can feel invisible. The churches that grab headlines are often the ones that bow to political idols or chase celebrity pastors and prosperity promises. Meanwhile, smaller congregations that cling to Christ amid declining attendance or cultural irrelevance may feel forgotten. But Jesus hasn’t forgotten. He says: I’ve placed before you an open door no one can shut.

That phrase is powerful. Jesus doesn’t promise ease or success. He promises access—to himself, to the Kingdom, to a future that the world can’t block. No gatekeeping megachurch, no ideology, no empire can close a door he has opened.

There’s something deeply subversive here. Philadelphia may have been looked down on, but Jesus lifts them up. They had little strength, but they had unshakable faith. They were poor in power but rich in perseverance. They didn’t assimilate to the empire. They didn’t chase cultural approval. They just stayed true.

This isn’t about nostalgia or clinging to tradition for tradition’s sake. It’s about holding fast to the truth that Jesus is the Holy One, the True One, the One who holds the key of David. It’s about remembering who we follow—and why.

To those who overcome, Jesus promises a name—a new identity—and a place. Not celebrity. Not a platform. But a pillar in the temple of God. That’s not just metaphor. That’s legacy. That’s home.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
Faithfulness rarely looks flashy. But Jesus sees. And the open doors he gives are worth more than any human spotlight.

PRAYER
Jesus, help us hold on. When we feel tired or invisible, remind us that you see. Give us courage to remain faithful—to you, to your call, to your open door. Make us pillars not in reputation, but in love. Amen.

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