This devotion was written at the request of the president of the organization for which I work. I was able to share it at our board meeting on February 6th, 2026. It is in response to national and global events.

Last week most of our chaplains gathered in Chicago. During our time together, our chaplains from our Minnesota campus shared about the emotional state of their staff and residents in light of the ICE presence in Minneapolis and recent violent and deadly clashes on their streets. That time increased our sense of burden for our people. We gained a greater awareness of the vulnerability that many are feeling. And there was a pressing urge to speak out or to do something that mattered. We ended that time with lament and prayer. 

Maybe your neighborhoods are quiet and calm. Maybe your home is peaceful and distanced from upheaval. Maybe you feel secure and safe in your daily life. If that is the case for you, praise God for that! Truly.

But did you know that right now, across the world there are 11 civil wars being fought? There are 19 countries dealing with terrorist insurgencies. There are two major interstate wars. There are armed gangs that control life in Haiti, and this daily reality has a real impact on many of my coworkers. There are people like my brother-in-law Fernando, and Andres—the guy who sold me a car last weekend—who are here in the US with legal documentation, but they live everyday with a heightened sense of risk. When they leave their homes and families to go to work or to get groceries, they know it’s possible that they may not return.

There are times and places where life feels stable and safe, and there are times and places where life quakes with vulnerability. The distance between these two existences can be paper-thin. So what do we do when the world around us seems unrecognizable? When the headlines fill us with uncertainty or angst. When we have friends or loved ones who are at risk? How do we keep on doing everyday things like board meetings or focus on things like customer service in all this madness? 

In the autumn of 1939, C.S. Lewis was not yet famous. He was 41 years old and a tutor and fellow at Oxford University. He studied and taught and published two books that year, but that year was anything but normal. Germany and the Soviet Union had invaded Poland. France and England responded with a declaration of war in September, and WWII began. 

With war as his daily backdrop, Lewis was invited to preach at a local church. He titled his sermon “Learning in War Time.” At the pulpit Lewis argued that if we postpone things like the search for knowledge or the pursuit of beauty until all of life is secure for everyone, the search would never begin. He reminded his audience that there has never been a time without crises of all kinds. As he put it, “human life has always been lived on the edge of a precipice.” 

Lewis asked the same question that many of us are asking in light of what’s going on in our world today. In his words: “how can we continue to take an interest in placid occupations when the lives of our friends and the [freedom of nations*] are in the balance? Is it not like fiddling while Rome burns?” 

I’ll put it another way—is there value in continuing ordinary things when there are life and death battles being fought? Lewis answered yes, and I agree. He and I share a world view as children of God. We believe that every ordinary task has value when it is offered to God, even if the world is falling to pieces. In his sermon, Lewis urged his listeners to heed St. Paul’s instructions to the Corinthian church, “whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God” (1 Cor 10:31). 

We may be living on the edge of a precipice, but daily life does not stop. Ordinary things must happen in extraordinary times. We still need people focused on making food, fixing roofs, delivering medicine, washing floors, welcoming visitors, and yes, even participating in long board meetings. We can do all of this with deep purpose and satisfaction, knowing that through them we honor God.

But in war time, we should be even more focused on doing little things with great love. In his letter to the Corinthians, Paul also said, “No one should seek their own good, but the good of others” (1 Cor. 10:24). In these words I hear an advancement of the second greatest commandment: “love your neighbor as yourself” (see Matt 22:36-39).

For those of us whose streets are safe and lives are stable, our sacred work is to listen well and hear the voice of all those crying out to God for mercy. To see our neighbors and their needs and to be moved to serve, care, or advocate as we are able. As Micah 6:8 says, “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.”  

Following Jesus is a costly choice. This ‘loving others as yourself’ is usually uncomfortable because it stretches our empathy. It may even lead to personal sacrifices. Jesus warned his disciples that their future would hold ridicule, rejection, false imprisonment, persecution, and for some, even death. He did not insulate them from the worst that the world would bring them. But he did offer them hope. 

Some of my favorite words of Jesus are found in John chapter 16. Jesus has laid out all the calamities coming for his followers. They were likely stunned into silence and shivering with fear. And then he said, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (v. 33).

Hope in dangerous days is found in a savior who endured suffering, defeated death, broke the power of sin, and rose from the grave so he could bring abundant life to others. As God’s people, our daily action plan for life on the precipice is to do likewise: to love others generously and to do even ordinary tasks as sacred acts of worship. The ominous headlines of the world cannot lead our hearts or actions astray! We must stay rooted in the enduring hope that only God provides.

I will close by reading a poem by a little-known pastor, professor, and poet, named Dr. Gerhard Frost. I encourage you to receive it as a prayer.

If I am asked
what are my grounds for hope,
this is my answer.
Light is lord over darkness,
truth is lord over falsehood,
life is lord over death.
Of all the facts I daily live with
there is none more comforting
than this: If I have two rooms,
one dark, the other light,
and I open the door between them,
the dark room becomes lighter
without the light room
becoming darker. I know
this is no headline,
but it’s a marvelous footnote.
And God comforts me in that.

Lewis’ “Learning in Wartime” can be read here: https://www.christendom.edu/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/Learning-In-Wartime-C.S.-Lewis-1939.pdf. *This change is mine.

The poem cited above by Dr. Gerhard E. Frost is widely attributed to him online, but no one cites it’s original publication source. As his books are out of print, I cannot confirm authorship or source.