Tag Archives: Jesus Christ

Devotional, Series

SEVEN LOADED LETTERS, Part 5: The Church That Let It Slide

Leave a comment

Read Revelation 2:18-29

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“Sin will be rampant everywhere, and the love of many will grow cold. But the one who endures to the end will be saved” (Matthew 24:12–13 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 Let It Slide” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

Part 5: The Church That Let It Slide. Thyatira looked like a model church—full of love, steady in service, growing in endurance. They weren’t coasting—they were gaining momentum. And yet, beneath all of that fruitfulness, something poisonous was being allowed to grow.

They tolerated someone Jesus metaphorically names “Jezebel.” That name is no accident. In the Old Testament, Jezebel was a queen who used her influence to undermine Israel’s faithfulness from the inside. She normalized Baal worship. Silenced prophets. Manipulated power structures to get what she wanted. She didn’t oppose Yahweh outright—she just twisted the people’s worship toward idols while keeping the language of religion intact. The danger wasn’t open rebellion. It was seduction in the name of God.

That’s what Jesus saw in this church. A teacher or voice—perhaps respected, perhaps persuasive—was claiming divine authority while leading people into spiritual compromise. Whether it was idolatry, exploitation, or theological distortion, it was being allowed to persist. And the church, rather than confronting it, let it slide.

They tolerated toxicity in the name of unity. They kept the peace by enabling harm.

And here’s the hard part: it didn’t look dangerous at first. It looked prophetic. It looked insightful. It may have even sounded liberating. But instead of pointing people to Christ, it slowly replaced Him with something else—something easier to control, easier to sell, easier to swallow.

“You can climb to the top of my horns,” Marilyn Manson growls, “but make sure that you don’t look down. Don’t spit in the face of God when you’re trying to wear his crown.”

It’s a harsh lyric—but a fitting warning. The problem in Thyatira wasn’t someone questioning tradition or offering a new perspective. The problem was someone claiming divine authority while leading people away from the God they claimed to speak for. That’s not freedom. That’s spiritual abuse dressed in prophetic clothing.

This message isn’t about policing belief. It’s not about crushing questions or excluding voices. But it is about integrity. It’s about holding the center of the Gospel—Jesus Christ crucified, risen, reigning—and refusing to allow that center to be co-opted by agendas that distort His image, His grace, or His call to faithfulness.

Jesus sees it. He names it. And he doesn’t rage—he grieves. He calls for repentance. He gives space for change. But he doesn’t excuse the damage. “I gave her time to repent… but she was unwilling.” And the longer the church tolerates a lie in God’s name, the more that lie begins to shape the culture around it.

Still, not everyone bowed. Not everyone was misled. “Now I say to the rest of you… who have not followed this teaching: Hold tightly to what you have until I come.” Jesus doesn’t demand perfection. He calls for endurance. He doesn’t shame the whole church—he honors the ones who wouldn’t sell the truth for peace.

Because truth without love is cruelty. But love without truth is collapse.

And the church that lets it slide—eventually loses its footing.

So let’s not ignore what Jesus said to this church. Let’s have the courage to love deeply, serve faithfully—and confront what must not be allowed to slide.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
Compromise doesn’t always look like rebellion. Sometimes it looks like comfort, silence, or slow erosion. But Jesus still calls us to live with clarity, conviction, and courage.

PRAYER
Jesus, sharpen our witness. Forgive us where we’ve compromised your identity to keep things safe or easy. Help us live what we say we believe—with humility, integrity, and trust in your grace. You are the Bread of Life. Let us hunger for nothing less. Amen.

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

Devotional, Series

SEVEN LOADED LETTERS, Part 4: The Church That Lost Its Edge

Leave a comment

Read Revelation 2:12–17

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.” (Romans 12:2 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.

Image: AI-generated using OpenAI’s DALL·E and customized by the author. Used with the devotional “The Church That Lost Its Edge” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

Part 4: The Church That Lost Its Edge. There’s a kind of faith that doesn’t break under pressure—but slowly softens under the warmth of comfort, power, or fear. That’s the danger facing Pergamum. This church wasn’t buckling under persecution. They were still gathering. Still proclaiming Christ. Still holding fast in a city described as the place “where Satan has his throne.” That’s no small feat.

Pergamum wasn’t just a random city—it was a center of imperial power and pagan worship. It housed temples to Caesar, Zeus, and Asclepius, and was known for its imperial cult—worshiping the Roman emperor as divine. Some scholars believe “Satan’s throne” refers to the massive altar of Zeus overlooking the city. Others see it as a reference to the imperial throne itself. Either way, Pergamum was a place where power demanded worship—and refusing to participate was dangerous.

But what Jesus saw beneath the surface was far more troubling than outright denial—it was slow, subtle dilution.

They tolerated compromise. Not the kind that opens doors to grace or welcomes the outcast. But the kind that blurs the line between allegiance to Christ and allegiance to the systems that crucified him. The teachings of Balaam. The influence of the Nicolaitans. These weren’t just alternate views—they were distortions of the gospel itself. Many scholars believe the Nicolaitans were diluting the core identity of Christ—denying his divinity, or excusing idolatry in the name of spiritual freedom. Whatever the case, the result was the same: a church that was drifting from the truth it claimed to hold.

In the Old Testament, Balaam couldn’t curse God’s people directly—so instead, he advised Balak to seduce them into compromise. If you can’t curse them, corrupt them. The Israelites began eating food sacrificed to idols and engaging in sexual immorality, blurring the line between their covenant and the surrounding culture. That’s what was happening in Pergamum too. They weren’t being forced to deny Christ—but they were slowly absorbing practices and beliefs that diminished who Christ really was.

This isn’t about legalism. It’s about integrity.

Compromise isn’t grace. Grace lifts people up. Compromise lets things slide. And it often wears the mask of wisdom. It says: don’t rock the boat. Don’t push too hard. Be realistic. Play it safe. And before long, the cross becomes an accessory instead of a call.

This can happen anywhere. A pastor changes how they speak about Jesus—not to reach more people, but to avoid upsetting the wrong people. A church downplays core convictions—not out of love, but out of fear of controversy. A community allows injustice to persist—because it’s too costly to confront those who benefit. That’s not cultural engagement. That’s surrender.

The Apostle Paul once wrote, “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” (Romans 12:2). But sometimes, in our desire to avoid discomfort or controversy, we end up reshaping Jesus to fit our fears instead of our faith. That’s the issue in Pergamum. And it’s an issue in the Church today.

We are not called to be culture warriors, nor are we called to water down the Gospel to gain approval. We are called to follow Jesus—boldly, faithfully, and clearly. We are called to let grace be grace, and truth be truth, and to trust that Christ is still the Bread of Life—not the crumbs we scatter to keep people from leaving the table.

Jesus doesn’t tell Pergamum they never believed. He tells them they started tolerating what should have been challenged. “Repent,” he says. “Otherwise, I will soon come to you and will fight against them with the sword of my mouth.” That sounds harsh—until you remember who holds the sword. The One who also promises hidden manna. A white stone. A new name. He isn’t out to destroy them. He’s out to restore them.

So let’s not trade the Bread of Heaven for spiritual junk food. Let’s not trade our inheritance for a spoonful of comfort. And let’s not confuse being fearful with being faithful.

Christ calls us to sharpen, not soften. Not to lose our edge, but to live like we know where the edge is—and that it’s made of love, wielded by the One who gave everything for us.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
Compromise doesn’t always look like rebellion. Sometimes it looks like comfort, silence, or slow erosion. But Jesus still calls us to live with clarity, conviction, and courage.

PRAYER
Jesus, sharpen our witness. Forgive us where we’ve compromised your identity to keep things safe or easy. Help us live what we say we believe—with humility, integrity, and trust in your grace. You are the Bread of Life. Let us hunger for nothing less. Amen.

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

Devotional, Series

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

2 Comments

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

Leave a comment

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

Leave a comment

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

Leave a comment

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, Holy Week Series, Previous Post

REVISITED: SON OF GOD: Easter Sunday

Leave a comment

Read 1 Corinthians 15:1-10

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“Mary Magdalene found the disciples and told them, ‘I have seen the Lord!’ Then she gave them His message.” (John 20:18 NLT)

Image: AI-generated using Adobe Firefly and customized by the author. Used with the devotional “SON OF GOD: Easter Sunday” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

Happy Easter Sunday! This is the day to which all of the previous days and devotions of Holy Week have been pointing to. This is the day when the power of God was fully displayed in the body of Jesus of Nazareth. It’s not enough that he lived the life of a prophet. It’s not enough that he lived the life of one who had compassion on the “least of these.” It’s not enough that he held to his beliefs even unto death. It’s certainly not enough that he bore his cross and died on it. For if that is how the life of the Son of God ended, if that is the end of the story, then what hope is there that evil will ever be overcome?

If the Jesus movement were to die with him at his death, then he would go down in history as just another poor peasant who dared to defy the powers that be and paid the ultimate price for it. What’s more, his teachings would go down as nice but unrealistic. His miracles would go down as nothing more than magic tricks, and his claims of divinity would go down as nothing more than an egotistical delusion. Yet, the story did not end there; rather, on the third day following his passion and death, the Son of God was resurrected from the tomb. What’s more, his resurrection was experienced by countless people, at least 513 people according to the Apostle Paul who was writing about 24-27 years after Christ’s death and resurrection.

The resurrection is not about a dead body becoming resuscitated back to life. The resurrection isn’t about faith that goes against reason, nor is it about believing in something ludicrous that cannot be seen or experienced. If it were about those things, no one would have believed Paul or the countless others who preached the resurrection of the Son of God to others. In fact, Paul would have never believed it either were it merely about belief in what cannot be seen or experienced. What’s important to note is that belief in the resurrection of Christ is not about blind faith, but about an experiential faith. The question is not about whether or not the Son of God resurrected from the dead, the question is about whether or not you have witnessed the resurrected Son of God, and whether or not you have experienced that resurrection in your life as well.

Whether you are celebrating Easter Sunday or not, ask yourself this question, have you experienced the miracle of the resurrection? If not, why not? Perhaps it is because you have not died to anything or, if you have, perhaps it is because you have not let that experience go. I can tell you that I have experienced both the risen Son of God in my life, and I have experienced the miracle of the resurrection too. But what I have experienced can only intrigue you, if that. You need to open yourself to experiencing it too. I pray that on this Easter Sunday, the power of the resurrected SON manifests itself in you and that you are aware and open to it. If you are, NOTHING will ever be the same again.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
“People have been told so often that resurrection is just a metaphor, and means Jesus died and was glorified – in other words, he went to Heaven, whatever that means. And they’ve never realized that the word ‘resurrection’ simply didn’t mean that.” – N.T. Wright

PRAYER
Lord, reveal your resurrected self to me and a produce in me the resurrected life. Amen.

Devotional, Holy Week Series, Previous Post

REVISITED: SON OF GOD: Holy Saturday

Leave a comment

Read Matthew 27:62-66

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“’Go out and stand before Me on the mountain,’ the LORD told him. And as Elijah stood there, the LORD passed by, and a mighty windstorm hit the mountain. It was such a terrible blast that the rocks were torn loose, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake there was a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire there was the sound of a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave.” (1 Kings 19:11-13a NLT)

Image: AI-generated using Adobe Firefly and customized by the author in Photoshop. Used with the devotional “SON OF GOD: Holy Saturday” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

Today is Holy Saturday, which is the day in between Jesus’ death and his resurrection. It is on this day that his disciples sat in hiding. It is on this day that the uncertainty of death hung over them like a shroud, clouding them with the fear of the unknown and paralyzing them in that fear. They had followed Jesus for three long years and had invested all of their hopes and expectations in him. Now he was dead, gone, and the silence of the tomb echoed in their psyche about as loudly as a shrill scream in the night.

On the flip side, the powers that be that opposed Jesus were scrambling to keep the silence from becoming to uncertain. Caiaphas and other religious leaders were holding a meeting with the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate, regarding what they were going to do with this dead trouble maker named Jesus. The religious leaders were claiming that his disciples might come and snatch the body in order to make false claims about some sort of bodily resurrection. Out of fear that the body might disappear, they all decided that it would be best if guards were posted at the tomb to ensure that nothing happened to the body.” These men, too, were disturbed by the silence of the tomb, for they were afraid it might remain silent. So they did everything they could to ensure that it would.

The silence of death and the tomb affects each of us in many different ways. It seems so final, yet so uncertain, and we are left feeling not only loss by a sense of hopelessness. And I need not be talking about the physical death of any one person, but death in the broader sense. Throughout life, aspects of our lives die off. We come to identify ourselves one way, or another, and for a season that identification endures; however, there comes a point when that identity, that aspect, that part of us dies off and we are with a tremendous sense of loss and of fear. Who are we? How do we respond to this particular loss? Do we, like the disciples, hide in the shadows afraid of what lies next? Or do we, like the religious and political leaders of Jesus’ day, place guard over the tomb to make sure nothing is out of our control?

Both of the above questions are pathways that we can take? Both seek to hang onto whatever control we have left. Paralysis and overreaction are on the opposite side of the same coin of control. However, there is a third option. We need not hide in the shadows or overreact in some outlandish way or through some sort of crazy power grab; rather, we have the option of letting go. We have the option of allowing the silence of the tomb to speak for itself. We have the option of letting go of control and allowing God to work resurrection in our lives. The reality is that no matter what we do, whether we hide in the shadows or stand guard over the tomb, that stone will be bursting forth with or without us. The question is not “if”, but “when.” When the Son of God sparks resurrection in your life, will be open to it or will you let it pass you by? The silence of the tomb gives you ample time to reflect on that very question. May that reflection be rich in the darkness and the silence of the tomb.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
“No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life’s change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new.” – Steve Jobs

PRAYER
Lord, prepare me for the death in life, and for the death of life, for I know that all ends are the beginnings of something new. Amen.

Devotional, Holy Week Series, Previous Post

REVISITED: SON OF GOD: Good Friday

Leave a comment

Read John 19

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
When the Roman officer who stood facing Him [heard His cry and] saw how He had died, he exclaimed, “This man truly was the Son of God!” (Mark 15:39 NLT)

Image: AI-generated using Adobe Firefly and customized by the author. Used with the devotional “SON OF GOD: Good Friday” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

Up until now, it might not be clear why I entitled this series of Holy Week devotions, “Son of God.” I mean, sure, I am writing about Jesus of Nazareth who is known by billions of Christians to be the “Son of God.” That much is self-evident; and sure, I am writing about the activities, suffering and death of “the Son of God” because it is Holy Week and that is when billions of Christians celebrate the last days of Christ. But, other than that, why entitle this SON OF GOD?

What most people don’t realize is that the title, “Son of God”, was not held exclusively by Jesus during his lifetime. There was another person who was known to the world at the time as son of god and his name was Tiberius Caesar, just as Augustus Caesar was before him. Because Julius Caesar was divinized following his assassination, Augustus (whose birth name was Octavian) took on the title divi filius, aka son of the divine one, aka son of god. When Tiberius succeeded Augustus, he took on the same title, as did the Caesars that followed him. And, honestly, who was going to argue with them. They were truly the most powerful men in the known world and to argue their divinity with them was to order your own death.

When Jesus’ followers, and later the Gospel writers, started hailing the peasant carpenter from Nazareth as “the Son of God,” this instantly put him in immediate competition with Caesar, who did not take kindly to such competition. What’s more, Jesus wasn’t being called the equivalent of divi filius; rather, he was being called the equivalent of Dei Filius, which put him above the son of a deified mortal and made him the Son of the immortal God. Also, this Jesus claimed that being the Son of God meant conquering people with love and truth, as opposed to Caesar’s way of conquering people with fear and force. It was on this day, nearly 2,000 years ago, that this peasant Nazarene came face to face with the Roman Empire. It was on this day, nearly 2,000 years ago, that the Son of God challenged another son of god. It was on this day, nearly 2,000 years ago, that LOVE and brute force crossed paths in such a dramatic way that the world would never forget it. While brute force may have won the battle, three days later it totally lost the war!

On this Good Friday, we are being called by the Son of God to reflect on the ways we oppose walking the path of LOVE. How often have we tried to force our way on others? How often have we put ourselves above the Son of God through our thoughts and through our actions? Christ is calling us to search our hearts and our souls. The Son of God is calling us to acknowledge his Sonship, his divinity, and his Lordship over our lives. The Son of God is calling us to abandon our ways for his ways, and he is calling us, at all costs, to return to the pathway of LOVE. While this is not always easy, it is what the Son of God calls us to do and his death on the cross is a reminder to us all of the extent to which he was willing to go in order to see that pathway through. The Christ on the cross is waiting for us to join him in his mission.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
“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.” – Jesus of Nazareth (Mark 10:45 NLT)

PRAYER
Lord, precious Son of God, thank you for your sacrifice. Stir up in me a sacrificial love that reaches far and wide to those in need around me. Amen.

Devotional, Holy Week Series, Previous Post

REVISITED: SON OF GOD: Maundy Thursday

Leave a comment

Read John 13:21-30

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
For the Son of Man must die, as the Scriptures declared long ago. But how terrible it will be for the one who betrays Him. It would be far better for that man if he had never been born!” (Mark 14:21 NLT)

Image: AI-generated using Adobe Firefly and customized by the author. Used with the devotional “SON OF GOD: Maundy Thursday” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

Have you ever read the story of Jesus’ betrayal in the Gospels? Have you ever noticed the sentiment conveyed about Judas, the one who betrayed Jesus? Have you ever noticed that as you read through the Gospels chronologically in the order they were written (Mark, Matthew, Luke and John), that there is a progression from cold to seething despise in the representation of Judas and his final act of betrayal? In Mark and Matthew, Judas’ actions are more or less presented in a very “matter of fact” way. Judas decides to betray Jesus, for which no reason is given, and he gets paid for the betrayal. In Luke, the author writes that “Satan entered Judas Iscariot” which led him to go to the high priests. In John, Jesus calls Judas “a devil” (John 6:70) and Judas was possessed by Satan, who entered him following eating the bread at the Last Supper (John 13:26).

Since the moment he decided to betray Jesus, Judas has certainly gone down in infamy. He has been forever remembered as the man who betrayed the prince of peace. What sort of man would do such a thing? How could he have possibly even thought that betraying Jesus is a good thing? These questions, and more, to this day remain unanswered. We’ll never know why Judas did what he did. It is easy to understand why a growing number of Christians, from the Gospel writers onward, came to despise him for betraying our Lord. Yet, the ironic part is while we hold Judas accountable (perhaps more than accountable) for his actions, we give the other disciples a complete pass. After all, while Judas actively betrayed Jesus, didn’t the others betray him too? Which one of them stood by Jesus’ side in his time of need? They all deserted, they all fled, they all abandoned him…and in some sense…they all betrayed him.

Yet all of the Gospel accounts are consistent on one thing, if not on their view of Judas himself. They are all consistent on the fact that Judas was welcome at the table of grace, on the fact that Judas was welcome to share in the last supper, but a Jesus who was well aware of his deceit. While we’ll never know what was in Jesus’ mind at the time, it is consistent with his teaching on not judging, and loving even one’s enemies. In fact, Judas wasn’t an enemy at all, he was a friend and he was a trusted confidant of Jesus’. Yet, instead of reacting negatively toward Judas, Jesus pitied him and made room for him at the Last Supper. I would like to believe that Jesus wished that Judas would be able to forgive himself and eventually rejoin the disciples in spreading the Gospel message; however, I also believe that Jesus knew that Judas would never be able to.

The question for us, out of all of this, is how far are you willing to take Jesus’ command to love? By his very example, Jesus showed us that he wasn’t being hypothetical or theoretical in his calling for us to love our neighbor as ourselves, including our enemies. How far are you willing to go in your love of others? Will you love others, including your enemies, even if it comes at a great personal cost? Today’s challenge, as we approach the Lord’s table of grace at the Last Supper, is to reflect on your call LOVE OTHERS, just as Christ has loved you. Will you follow Jesus in living a life of LOVE, or will you abandon him and his cause for your own comfort and safety? The choice is, ultimately, up to you.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
“If you love only those who love you, what reward is there for that? Even corrupt tax collectors do that much. If you are kind only to your friends, how are you different from anyone else? Even pagans do that. But you are to be perfect, even as your Father in heaven is perfect.” – Jesus of Nazareth (Matthew 5:46-48 NLT)

PRAYER
Lord, help me to open myself up to your love and help me grow to be a person who more fully loves others, even those who I would otherwise consider to be my enemies. Amen.