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.
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).