Revelation 2:1-7

At the turn of the second century AD, the city of Ephesus was a jewel. With some estimating the population as high as 500,000 people, Ephesus was a major port city and gateway to several trade routes servicing the interior of Asia Minor and beyond. As such, it was a booming center of commerce. Not coincidentally, this commercial success drew people from across the Roman world, making the city a center of culture and religion as well. Indeed, Ephesus was known far and wide for its temple to Artemis. It was also a center of the imperial cult, which worshiped the emperor as a god. In addition, there were dozens of other religions, including a significant Jewish population.

According to Acts 18, the church at Ephesus was apparently started after Paul left Priscilla and Aquilla in the city at the end of his second missionary journey. At the start of his third missionary journey in Acts 19, the apostle returned to Ephesus and ministered there for more than two years. By the time he left, the church was apparently a hub for evangelism and church planting efforts throughout the region. In fact, it is likely that the church at Ephesus was the mother or grandmother church of the other six congregations addressed by Jesus in Revelation 2-3. After moving on from Ephesus, Paul apparently stationed Timothy there as its pastor (1 and 2 Timothy), and the ministry continued to thrive until the last surviving apostle, John, took up residence in the city some three decades later to oversee the ministry throughout the region.

Given that this same John was recording Revelation, it is no wonder the Ephesian letter was dictated first: Ephesus and the church there were near and dear to the apostle’s heart. Jesus’ letter to the church at Ephesus is recorded in Revelation 2:1-7:

“Write to the angel of the church in Ephesus: Thus says the one who holds the seven stars in his right hand and who walks among the seven golden lampstands: I know your works, your labor, and your endurance, and that you cannot tolerate evil people. You have tested those who call themselves apostles and are not, and you have found them to be liars. I know that you have persevered and endured hardships for the sake of my name, and have not grown weary. But I have this against you: You have abandoned the love you had at first. Remember then how far you have fallen; repent, and do the works you did at first. Otherwise, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place, unless you repent. Yet you do have this: You hate the practices of the Nicolaitans, which I also hate.

“Let anyone who has ears to hear listen to what the Spirit says to the churches. To the one who conquers, I will give the right to eat from the tree of life, which is in the paradise of God.

Jesus knows us.

Like a typical first-century letter, this letter began with the identity of the writer. In this case, Jesus identified himself as “the one who holds the seven stars in his right hand and who walks among the seven golden lampstands” (Revelation 2:1). These two points, of course, are references to Revelation 1:9-20, where John first encountered Jesus walking among seven lampstands (Revelation 1:12) and holding seven stars in his right hand (Revelation 1:16). In Revelation 1:20, Jesus explained that the lampstands represented the seven churches themselves, and the stars represented “the angels of the seven churches.” Regardless of how one interprets the nature of these stars (see chapter 1), the point which Jesus aimed to make was that he is the Lord of the churches, ruling over them and protecting them.

Further, the reminder that he was walking amongst the lampstands and holding the stars in his right hand suggests that Jesus knows the churches, their pastors and parishioners, intimately. The extent of this knowledge was further punctuated by the letter’s opening statement – “I know your works, your labor, and your endurance, and that you cannot tolerate evil people” – and two specific examples. Specifically, Jesus observes, “You have tested those who call themselves apostles and are not, and you have found them to be liars” (vs. 2); “I know that you have persevered and endured hardships for the sake of my name, and have not grown weary” (vs. 3); and “you hate the practices of the Nicolaitans, which I also hate” (vs. 6).

These two bits – that Jesus is ruling over and protecting them, and that he knows them intimately – must have been comforting to the believers at Ephesus who first received this letter. Jesus knew all about their faithfulness and the good things they had done, and he knows the same of us.

Yes, Jesus knows that we attend church, tithe faithfully, and study the Bible to make sure the preacher is on his or her toes. He knows that we minister to each other, serve in a variety of capacities throughout the church, and even suffer. And he knows that we do this all day in and day out, rising every morning to do it all again. He knows all the good stuff that we do because he knows us more intimately than we know ourselves.

We’ve abandoned our first love.

The problem was, Jesus knew more than just the good stuff. Indeed, after acknowledging the good things happening in Ephesus, Revelation 2:4 begins with an ominous “But…” In both English and Greek languages, the word “but” signals that a dramatic change is on the way: what comes next is dramatically different from what came before. That is, despite the church’s storied past, there was trouble lurking in Ephesus: “You have abandoned the love you had at first” (Revelation 2:4).

Certainly, this charge reminded the Ephesians of the Great Commandment to love God with every fiber of their being and love their neighbors as themselves (Matthew 22:37-40). This was the kind of love they were supposed to have. Indeed, it was the sort of love they had way back when they first started. Back then, their passion for God and people was clearly their highest priority and motivation. Everything else paled in comparison! Who needed a bigger house or newer car? Who needed to get lunch every day of the week? Loving God and people was far more important than any of that stuff.

The intervening decades, however, had tempered that passion. In fact, over time, it had dwindled from a raging firestorm to a crackling campfire, to smoldering coals, to a heap of ash. This, of course, was entirely natural: a fire that is not stoked will eventually die. The problem, then, was that the Ephesians had failed to stoke their passion for God and people. Indeed, Strong’s notes that the word rendered by the CSB as “abandoned” means to forsake, omit, or put away. Moreover, the form of the word used here makes clear that the responsibility for this rests squarely upon the Ephesians.

Of course, they had not meant to abandon their first love. After all, this was the Ephesian church! They had started out with great passion for both God and people. That love drove them to worship, serve, sacrifice, and more. Soon enough, they began to figure out what worked, and what did not. So they began to systematize the stuff that worked – homeless shelters, soup kitchens, worship bands, Sunday Schools – and soon enough, they had figured out the formula for success and impact. Day in and day out, week after week and year after year, they did what worked until, somewhere along the line, they no longer needed love. In fact, they no longer had time for love.

Certainly, the Ephesian church was still going through the motions of effective ministry, but loving God with every fiber of their being? Loving people as themselves?

The other day, my family made the trek over the river and through the woods to Grandma’s and Grandpa’s house to celebrate Christmas. Before we could leave, my wife asked me to grab the gift card I had bought for my father. I stared at her dumbly. Honestly, I thought I had given it to her. So began a frantic search through the house for the missing gift card. While my wife searched through her purse, I checked my nightstand and dresser. Then I checked my wallet. Then I looked in the basket near my recliner. Finally, I went to the kitchen. At the time, our kitchen was a disaster. With all the bustle of the holiday season, we had fallen woefully behind on dishes and garbage, and so I simply stared at the heaping counters with no idea where to start. There was the basket which serves as a sort of catch-all for stuff that we do not want to put away for whatever reason. There was the bin by the door where we keep stamps and letter openers, etc. There was the counter itself. After psyching myself up for a moment, I walked through the typical process of unloading and storing groceries, and within about a minute had found the gift card. I was pretty proud of myself, but I was also keenly aware that this search might have been much longer and more frustrating because sometimes, our counters are like a black hole. Things left on the kitchen counter will eventually resurface, but you will never know when or where. 

Like the Ephesians, some of us, if we are honest, have set our love of God and people on the counter and promptly lost it. It was not that we meant to lose it! We started out with passion and love for God and people, but eventually, we set down that passion and love in favor of a routine. We still did enough good stuff to be called good and effective Christians. We thought for sure that no one would notice the difference. Shoot, we did not even notice the difference!

The difference, though, is real. Jesus left the glory of heaven for the hassle of being born and growing up because he loved. He endured hunger, thirst, exhaustion, poverty, beatings, and ridicule because he loved. Ultimately, he went to the cross and died because he loved. When we trade our authentic passion for the programs, routines, and busy-ness of merely doing church, we forget that love does hassle, ridiculous, and sacrifice.

Moreover, we forget that Jesus knows the difference, and he knows us. He knows us so well, in fact, that he is able to test our hearts and minds, and if we have indeed set down and lost our passion, we can bet that he has noticed.

This is significant because we may not have noticed. Indeed, the progression from passionate to complacent is, more often than not, both slow and subtle. In fact, to the human observer, capable only of monitoring external actions, the two may be indistinguishable because we are doing the same things. Yet, somewhere along the line, passion was replaced with programs, Spirit was replaced with systems, and righteousness was replaced with routine.

Please do not misunderstand. None of these things, by themselves, equate to complacency. Indeed, programs may be synonymous with intentional ministry, systems are essential to sustainability, and another word for routine is “methodical.” In the 18th century, John Wesley and co. were so diligent in their methodical pursuit of righteousness that they were called “Methodists,” but no one could accuse the early Methodists of complacency!

No, complacency has taken root when programs, systems, and routine become the sum total of our faith, and the telltale signs that this has happened include grumbling about people or complaining about all the work we must do. We go through the motions without the fervor or fire. We find ourselves lacking the ambition to press on to the next challenge. We might call it contentment or blame it on a lack of resources, but the bottom line is that we have become complacent.

We do not like that word. We recoil at the notion that we may be complacent because our culture has trained us to value ambition and drive. But that is exactly what we are talking about. When we find that we have abandoned our first love, we have in fact surrendered to a stronghold of complacency.

Indeed, spiritual complacency is rampant in our culture, our churches, and even ourselves. Further, if you catch a glimpse of this stronghold, the chances are it has been there for a while. Indeed, as we have seen, complacency does not appear suddenly. Rather, just as the members of a special operations team might infiltrate their target one by one over a period of time, complacency creeps in gradually over a period of months and years. The unfortunate side effect of this reality is that, by the time we realize it has become a stronghold, it has been there for a while. Moreover, you can bet that it has been using that time to dig deep and carefully conceal the extent of its reach.

In short, complacency is not an easy stronghold to defeat.

This reality has led many to not even try. They may see the telltale signs of this stronghold, but they resolve that they are simply not passionate people. It is both exhausting and costly to be passionate, and they simply cannot afford it. They think they may be able to work around their complacency and be just good enough to claim salvation. They content themselves to be saved as through fire (1 Corinthians 3:15).

But make no mistake. At the very least, complacency will sideline you, making you ineffective for the kingdom of God, but the ultimate objective of complacency is to reclaim your life and church for Satan and sin. It is designed perfectly for that task, and it will bide its time, slowly encroaching until it has done exactly that. And it – not you – has the advantage of time. It is therefore imperative that we have a plan and act quickly and decisively to destroy this stronghold once and for all.

Come back for Part 2 to discover Jesus’ plan to destroy Fort Complacency.