Tag Archives: transformation

Devotional, Series

SACRED SIGNS OF SUBVERSION, Part 24: Phoenix

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Read 1 Corinthians 3:10–15

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“Unless the Lord builds a house, the work of the builders is wasted. Unless the Lord protects a city, guarding it with sentries will do no good.” (Psalm 127:1 NLT)

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

Image: AI-generated using DALL·E and customized by the author. Used with the devotional “SACRED SIGNS OF SUBVERSION, Part 24: Phoenix” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

Part 24: Phoenix. The phoenix is one of those symbols that feels immediately familiar, even comforting. A creature consumed by fire, only to rise again from its own ashes. For many, it has become shorthand for hope after devastation, resilience after loss, life after death. And that reading is not wrong. Fire can purify. Ashes can nourish new growth. God does bring life out of ruin.

But before we go any further, the truth must be named plainly: the phoenix is not originally a Christian symbol. It does not emerge from Scripture. It was not born from the Church. It comes from ancient pagan imagination—Egyptian and Greco-Roman worlds wrestling with death, renewal, and the longing for immortality. Christianity did not invent the phoenix. It recognized it. And that recognition itself is deeply revealing.

The early Church was not threatened by truth found outside its walls. When Christians adopted the phoenix, they were not diluting the Gospel; they were confessing something bolder—that resurrection is not a fragile idea, and that echoes of God’s truth appear long before we name them. The phoenix was never worshiped. It was re-read. Not as proof of resurrection, but as a witness to humanity’s deep intuition that death does not have the final word.

And yet, even here, the symbol refuses to remain tame.

The phoenix does not simply rise after the fire. It rises because something has been burned beyond recovery. The fire is not an unfortunate prelude to resurrection; it is the necessary judgment that makes resurrection possible. Something real is lost. Something is not restored. Something does not come back.

This is where the symbol begins to unsettle us.

Paul’s words to the church in Corinth refuse the comforting illusion that everything we build deserves to last. The fire will show if a person’s work has any value. Not intentions. Not sincerity. Not effort. What we built. Fire does not negotiate. It reveals. It does not ask whether the structure was beloved or familiar or useful once. It simply tells the truth.

Some work survives the fire. Some work does not. And Paul is unflinching: even when a person is saved, what they have built may be reduced to ash.

This is devastating language—not because it threatens salvation, but because it threatens legacy. It confronts the assumption that faithfulness and survival are the same thing. It names the possibility that entire systems, identities, and institutions may burn—not because God is cruel, but because God is honest.

The phoenix, read through this lens, is not a promise that everything will return in a shinier form. It is a confession that not everything should.

This is where the symbol presses hardest on the Church.

We are adept at resurrection talk that avoids death. We speak of renewal while quietly preserving what no longer gives life. We celebrate transformation while protecting the structures that taught us how to survive but not how to love. We cling to what once worked and call it wisdom. We guard the city with sentries, convinced that vigilance will save what faith no longer sustains.

But Scripture is mercilessly clear: unless the Lord builds the house, the work of the builders is wasted. Fire does not honor nostalgia. It does not reward endurance for its own sake. It does not coddle complacency. It does not spare what has outlived its truth.

First, it must be said plainly: the fire burns institutions. Traditions. Forms of church that learned how to persist but forgot how to repent. The phoenix does not resurrect these unchanged. It consumes them. What rises is not the old thing restored, but something else entirely—or sometimes, nothing at all.

Next, the fire is also intimate. It burns the false self we constructed to survive inside broken systems—the version of ourselves that learned when to stay quiet, when to comply, when to call compromise maturity. Resurrection here is not triumphant. It is costly. It requires letting go of who we thought we were in order to become who we can no longer avoid being.

And then there is the most unsettling truth the phoenix carries: fire does not guarantee rebirth. The myth tempts us to assume that ashes always lead somewhere hopeful. Scripture is more restrained. Fire reveals what is of God—and what is not. What is of God endures, even if only as a remnant. What is not… ends.

That is not despair. It is mercy.

Because a resurrection that refuses to let certain things die is not resurrection at all. It is preservation. And preservation is often the enemy of life.

The phoenix does not promise that everything will rise. It promises that what must die will not be spared. And in that promise—terrifying as it is—there is freedom. Freedom from carrying what was never meant to last. Freedom from confusing survival with faithfulness. Freedom to trust that God’s work does not depend on our constructions, our defenses, or our fear of loss.

Fire comes. Ashes remain. And whatever rises does so only because it can finally live truthfully.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
Fire does not destroy what is faithful—it reveals what was never meant to last.

PRAYER
God of truth and mercy, meet us in the fire we fear. Give us the courage to release what no longer carries Your life, even when it once did. Burn away what is false, wasted, or built from fear, and teach us to trust You with what remains. Where something must end, grant us grace. Where something rises, grant us humility. Amen.

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

Devotional, Series

Sacred Signs of Subversion, part 22: Butterfly

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Read John 12:20–26

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun!” (2 Corinthians 5:17 NLT)

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

Image: AI-generated using DALL·E and customized by the author. Used with the devotional “SACRED SIGNS OF SUBVERSION, Part 22: Butterfly” at Life-Giving Water Devotions.

Part 22: Butterfly. The butterfly has long been treated as one of Christianity’s safest symbols. It appears on Easter banners and children’s curricula, a tidy illustration of resurrection and hope. Caterpillar, cocoon, butterfly—death, burial, new life. Simple. Beautiful. Inoffensive. But that simplicity hides a far more unsettling truth, because real transformation is not gentle, and resurrection is not safe.

Jesus does not speak about new life as a painless upgrade. In John 12, when people finally come seeking Him, Jesus does not offer reassurance or clarity. Instead, He speaks of death. “Unless a kernel of wheat falls into the soil and dies, it remains alone.” This is not metaphor for improvement; it is a declaration of loss. The seed does not become more itself. It is broken open. Its previous form does not survive the process. And only through that loss does fruit emerge.

The butterfly embodies this same scandal. The caterpillar lives longer. It eats. It survives. It moves close to the ground, protected by familiarity and repetition. The caterpillar’s life is about continuation. But the butterfly’s life, once it emerges, is often brief—sometimes only days or weeks. And yet in that short span, the butterfly does what the caterpillar never could. It flies. It crosses boundaries. It pollinates. It participates in the flourishing of the world beyond itself. Its life is not measured by duration, but by vocation.

This is where the symbol becomes subversive. We instinctively assume that faithfulness means preservation. We equate blessing with longevity. We celebrate survival while quietly fearing transformation. But Jesus never promises more time. He promises fruit. He never guarantees safety. He invites participation. Resurrection is not a reward for endurance; it is a call into costly becoming.

The chrysalis is not a comfortable place. Inside it, the caterpillar’s body literally dissolves. What emerges is not a repaired version of what existed before, but something entirely new. This is why transformation feels like death. Because it is. Not annihilation, but surrender. Not punishment, but passage. And many communities—faithful, sincere, well-meaning—decide that remaining what they are feels safer than entering that in-between space where nothing looks recognizable anymore.

So they linger. They grow smaller rather than different. They preserve form rather than pursue calling. Not out of malice, but out of fear. And the butterfly does not condemn this choice—but it does expose it. It stands as a quiet witness against the belief that staying alive is the same thing as living faithfully.

Jesus names this cost plainly. “Those who love their life in this world will lose it.” The Gospel is not interested in self-preservation. It is interested in self-giving. The promise is not that nothing will be lost, but that what is lost will not be wasted. The seed dies, and the field flourishes. The caterpillar dissolves, and the world blooms.

The butterfly refuses to let the Church confuse resurrection with comfort. It reminds us that becoming may shorten what we hoped to protect, but it expands what we were created to give. Faithfulness is not clinging to what was. Faithfulness is trusting God enough to let form fall away so fruit can come.

In this way, the butterfly becomes a sacred sign of subversion. It dismantles the myth that holiness is safe, that transformation is gentle, or that resurrection leaves everything intact. It tells the harder Gospel truth: life is found not in lingering, but in letting go.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
Resurrection is not about lasting longer—it is about becoming truer.

PRAYER
Transforming God, we confess how often we choose survival over surrender and familiarity over faith. Give us courage to enter the chrysalis when You call us there. Loosen our grip on what we are afraid to lose, and draw us into the life You are still bringing forth. Make us willing to become, even when becoming costs us everything. Amen.

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

Devotional

REVISITED: From Sand to Cement

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Read Hebrews 10:24-25

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
For where two or three gather together as My followers, I am there among them.” (Matthew 18:20, NLT)

Last weekend, while down at our Annual Conference down in Wildwood, NJ, I made sure that I got up at 6 am every morning to do one of my favorite things in the world. I would get up, get dressed, plug earphones into my music, and take a nice four mile jog on the beach. I just love going for a jog, no matter where I am; however, there is nothing quite like jogging along the shoreline, right by the water’s edge.

One of those mornings my oldest daughter came with me. We ran a good two or more miles South heading from Wildwood to Wildwood Crest. I was very proud of my daughter who jogged the first 2 miles with me. It’s amazing to see how much her endurance has grown over the past couple of years and it is a pleasure being able to share in a run with her, with both of us enjoying the time together and the time exercising.

On the way back, she asked me, “Dad, are we supposed to stay off the dunes?” I looked at her and smiled, while replying, “Yes, we should stay off the dunes.” She then asked me why that was. “Is it to protect the natural habitat of the animals,” she asked, rather wisely and inquisitively. “Yes,” I responded, “part of the reason is to protect the natural habitat; however, the dunes also play another important role. You see, they help to act as a natural barrier when storms cause the water to come this far up the beach. In a major hurricane they wouldn’t be large or strong enough, but they do act as a line of defense against storm surges.”

I then brought up the fact that whenever there is flooding, people will often build up walls of sand bags. My daughter was amazed at this. “How can sand really stop water from gushing out and flooding everything? Sand is so small and washes away so easily.” Her point was a valid one and, so, I responded, “Yes, loose sand is pretty small and insignificant. But when the sand is bound together in a bag, packed in tightly, it goes from being loose and wish-washy to being like a cement wall. One grain of sand is pretty insignificant; however, trillions upon trillions of grains of sand packed and working together is a force to be reckoned with!”

What an important lesson of us, as people of faith, to learn. We often think of doing BIG THINGS and CHANGING THE WORLD; however, when we head out there to do it we feel so small and insignificant. We often find ourselves wondering if we can really change anything. We become confused, discouraged, and we often end up feeling helpless and hopeless. What’s more tragic is that, in the end, we often give up on our call to be an agent of change.

But God has not called us to individual grains of sand. We are not called to be islands floating out in the middle of nowhere; rather, we have been called into community with one another. When Jesus was ministering to his people in ancient Israel (then known as the Roman Provence of Palestine), he did not do so alone. Instead, he gathered a group of twelve disciples and, actually, had many more disciples and followers than that.

Together, they were able to bring REAL change…REAL HOPE, HEALING, and WHOLENESS to the “least of these” in his community. That is what we are being called to do…not alone, but together as God’s children…as God’s community of faith. It is together, working as the hands and feet of Christ, that we really witness to the world the transforming POWER of God’s LOVE!

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
“Communication leads to community, that is, to understanding, intimacy and mutual valuing.” – Rollo May

PRAYER
Lord, bring me ever deeper into your community of followers so that I may be a blessing to them and, likewise, them to me. Guide us forward so that we may bring your transformative love into the lives of others, one person at a time. Amen.

Devotional, Previous Post

A LOOK BACK: From Sand to Cement

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Read Hebrews 10:24-25

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE

For where two or three gather together as My followers, I am there among them.” (Matthew 18:20, NLT)

Last weekend, while down at our Annual Conference down in Wildwood, NJ, I made sure that I got up at 6 am every morning to do one of my favorite things in the world. I would get up, get dressed, plug earphones into my music, and take a nice four mile jog on the beach. I just love going for a jog, no matter where I am; however, there is nothing quite like jogging along the shoreline, right by the water’s edge.

One of those mornings my oldest daughter came with me. We ran a good two or more miles South heading from Wildwood to Wildwood Crest. I was very proud of my daughter who jogged the first 2 miles with me. It’s amazing to see how much her endurance has grown over the past couple of years and it is a pleasure being able to share in a run with her, with both of us enjoying the time together and the time exercising.

On the way back, she asked me, “Dad, are we supposed to stay off the dunes?” I looked at her and smiled, while replying, “Yes, we should stay off the dunes.” She then asked me why that was. “Is it to protect the natural habitat of the animals,” she asked, rather wisely and inquisitively. “Yes,” I responded, “part of the reason is to protect the natural habitat; however, the dunes also play another important role. You see, they help to act as a natural barrier when storms cause the water to come this far up the beach. In a major hurricane they wouldn’t be large or strong enough, but they do act as a line of defense against storm surges.”

I then brought up the fact that whenever there is flooding, people will often build up walls of sand bags. My daughter was amazed at this. “How can sand really stop water from gushing out and flooding everything? Sand is so small and washes away so easily.” Her point was a valid one and, so, I responded, “Yes, loose sand is pretty small and insignificant. But when the sand is bound together in a bag, packed in tightly, it goes from being loose and wish-washy to being like a cement wall. One grain of sand is pretty insignificant; however, trillions upon trillions of grains of sand packed and working together is a force to be reckoned with!”

What an important lesson of us, as people of faith, to learn. We often think of doing BIG THINGS and CHANGING THE WORLD; however, when we head out there to do it we feel so small and insignificant. We often find ourselves wondering if we can really change anything. We become confused, discouraged, and we often end up feeling helpless and hopeless. What’s more tragic is that, in the end, we often give up on our call to be an agent of change.

But God has not called us to individual grains of sand. We are not called to be islands floating out in the middle of nowhere; rather, we have been called into community with one another. When Jesus was ministering to his people in ancient Israel (then known as the Roman Provence of Palestine), he did not do so alone. Instead, he gathered a group of twelve disciples and, actually, had many more disciples and followers than that.

Together, they were able to bring REAL change…REAL HOPE, HEALING, and WHOLENESS to the “least of these” in his community. That is what we are being called to do…not alone, but together as God’s children…as God’s community of faith. It is together, working as the hands and feet of Christ, that we really witness to the world the transforming POWER of God’s LOVE!

THOUGHT OF THE DAY

“Communication leads to community, that is, to understanding, intimacy and mutual valuing.” – Rollo May

PRAYER

Lord, bring me ever deeper into your community of followers so that I may be a blessing to them and, likewise, them to me. Guide us forward so that we may bring your transformative love into the lives of others, one person at a time. Amen.

Devotional

Amazing Paradox

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Read Romans 3:21-26

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“So you see, faith by itself isn’t enough. Unless it produces good deeds, it is dead and useless.” (James 2:17 NLT)

I think if you were to ask people what their favorite Christian hymns are most people would have “Amazing Grace” some where on that list. I wonder how many people actually know the story behind that hymn. No doubt, some people will have seen the 2006 film that was named after the famous hymn. For those who have seen that film, which details William Wilberforce’s fight for the abolishment of slavery in Great Britain, this story is something they are already familiar with; however, even if you are familiar with the story, it is still good to hear it again.

The hymn was written by John Newton, who was a slave ship captain. He never had any religious upbringing while growing up and so, as you can imagine, he didn’t have any real religious sensibilities as a slave ship captain; however, that all changed in 1748 when is ship was nearly over come by a terrible storm off of the coast of County Donegal, Ireland. In the midst of the storm, for fear of his life, John Newton found himself doing something he had never really done before: he was praying to God for life. It was in that moment that Newton converted to being a Christian and he penned the first verse while waiting for his ship to be repaired. While Newton did not stop being a Slave Ship Captain right away, by 1754 or 1755 he had completely given up his career and began studying Christian theology.

From there, John Newton went on to be ordained in the Church of England and became curate of Olney, Buckinghamshire. The rest of Amazing Grace was completed in order to illustrate a sermon on New Year’s Day, 1773. While this hymn didn’t take off right away, the Second Great Awakening in the United States gave birth to it’s popularity. John Newton, a former slave captain, also became an influential proponent of the abolishment of slavery. After experiencing a conversion to Christian faith, William Wilberforce sought spiritual counsel to see if he should remain in politics. Newton encouraged him to stay in politics and became an ally of Wilberforece’s in his quest to abolish slavery from Great Britain. By 1807, both Newton and Wilberforce’s dream of the downfall of the slave trade came to pass.

What’s important to note about both Newton and Wilberforce is that in both of them we see the true nature of God’s Grace. In today’s Christianity, the focus on God’s grace is how FREE it is. While it is true that there is nothing we can do to earn God’s grace, and while it is true that Grace is a gift from God to us, to focus solely on Grace being FREE is to miss a profoundly powerful paradox. Here’s the deal, God’s grace maybe free for us to accept; however, it comes at the highest of costs. As John Newton and William Wilberforce both came to realize, accepting God’s amazing grace meant that they were selling their souls and their lives to God. Nothing…absolutely nothing…would remain the same again.

The same is true for us, if we want God’s free and amazing Grace, we have to be willing to pay the cost. It will change who we are from the inside out. It will push us to uncomfortable places we never imagined ourselves going. It will call us to forsake our own wills for the will of God. It will compel us to stand up against oppression, against injustice, in order to fight for the “least of these” and for the souls of those who are seeking release from captivity (physical and spiritual). While this change, as in the case of Newton, might not happen overnight…it will most certainly happen! Because those who are possessed by God’s Spirit, and filled with God’s amazing grace, cannot continue living lives that are antithetical to God’s love. So, sing it! Sing Amazing Grace at the top of your lungs and be transformed by God’s amazing paradox.

THOUGHT OF THE DAY
“Cheap grace is the enemy of the church. We are fighting today for costly grace.” – Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “The Cost of Discipleship”.

PRAYER
Lord, fill me with your costly grace and transform me in ways that produce transformative change in the world around me. Amen.

Devotional

From Sand to Cement

Leave a comment

Read Hebrews 10:24-25

ALSO IN SCRIPTURE

For where two or three gather together as My followers, I am there among them.” (Matthew 18:20, NLT)

Last weekend, while down at our Annual Conference down in Wildwood, NJ, I made sure that I got up at 6 am every morning to do one of my favorite things in the world. I would get up, get dressed, plug earphones into my music, and take a nice four mile jog on the beach. I just love going for a jog, no matter where I am; however, there is nothing quite like jogging along the shoreline, right by the water’s edge.

One of those mornings my oldest daughter came with me. We ran a good two or more miles South heading from Wildwood to Wildwood Crest. I was very proud of my daughter who jogged the first 2 miles with me. It’s amazing to see how much her endurance has grown over the past couple of years and it is a pleasure being able to share in a run with her, with both of us enjoying the time together and the time exercising.

On the way back, she asked me, “Dad, are we supposed to stay off the dunes?” I looked at her and smiled, while replying, “Yes, we should stay off the dunes.” She then asked me why that was. “Is it to protect the natural habitat of the animals,” she asked, rather wisely and inquisitively. “Yes,” I responded, “part of the reason is to protect the natural habitat; however, the dunes also play another important role. You see, they help to act as a natural barrier when storms cause the water to come this far up the beach. In a major hurricane they wouldn’t be large or strong enough, but they do act as a line of defense against storm surges.”

I then brought up the fact that whenever there is flooding, people will often build up walls of sand bags. My daughter was amazed at this. “How can sand really stop water from gushing out and flooding everything? Sand is so small and washes away so easily.” Her point was a valid one and, so, I responded, “Yes, loose sand is pretty small and insignificant. But when the sand is bound together in a bag, packed in tightly, it goes from being loose and wish-washy to being like a cement wall. One grain of sand is pretty insignificant; however, trillions upon trillions of grains of sand packed and working together is a force to be reckoned with!”

What an important lesson of us, as people of faith, to learn. We often think of doing BIG THINGS and CHANGING THE WORLD; however, when we head out there to do it we feel so small and insignificant. We often find ourselves wondering if we can really change anything. We become confused, discouraged, and we often end up feeling helpless and hopeless. What’s more tragic is that, in the end, we often give up on our call to be an agent of change.

But God has not called us to individual grains of sand. We are not called to be islands floating out in the middle of nowhere; rather, we have been called into community with one another. When Jesus was ministering to his people in ancient Israel (then known as the Roman Provence of Palestine), he did not do so alone. Instead, he gathered a group of twelve disciples and, actually, had many more disciples and followers than that.

Together, they were able to bring REAL change…REAL HOPE, HEALING, and WHOLENESS to the “least of these” in his community. That is what we are being called to do…not alone, but together as God’s children…as God’s community of faith. It is together, working as the hands and feet of Christ, that we really witness to the world the transforming POWER of God’s LOVE!

THOUGHT OF THE DAY

“Communication leads to community, that is, to understanding, intimacy and mutual valuing.” – Rollo May

PRAYER

Lord, bring me ever deeper into your community of followers so that I may be a blessing to them and, likewise, them to me. Guide us forward so that we may bring your transformative love into the lives of others, one person at a time. Amen.