Revelation 3:14-22

Located 45 miles southeast of Philadelphia, 90 miles east of Ephesus, the church of Laodicea was the most inland of the seven congregations to which Jesus wrote. More specifically, the city was situated on the banks of the Lycus River. The river was too muddy for washing, let alone drinking, but fortunately, Laodicea was also located near Hierapolis, which was renowned throughout the Roman Empire for its hot springs which were considered both therapeutic and medicinal. This water was piped to Laodicea via a 5-mile-long aqueduct and contributed greatly to the establishment of the city.

In fact, Laodicea was known throughout the Roman world for three major industries. First, it was home to some of the largest, wealthiest banks in the empire. Second, these banks were fed by a booming textile industry. In particular, the Lycus Valley produced jet black wool which was turned into fabric at mills in Laodicea. Both of these, however, were dwarfed by the lucrative medical industry of Laodicea. Therapeutic water from the hot springs was combined with mud from the river to produce salves for eyes and ears which were shipped all over the known world, and the city was therefore a natural location for a prominent medical school which cranked out doctors. In fact, Laodicea was so wealthy that, when the city was destroyed in AD 60 by a great earthquake, they declined aid from the empire and financed their own reconstruction.

It was to this church, nestled in this city of tremendous wealth, that Jesus wrote his final letter. Given that it is likely that Jesus wrote first to Ephesus because it was the original church which spawned all of the other congregations, one must wonder why he chose to conclude with Laodicea. We can probably assume that it was the wealthiest of the seven churches. Perhaps it was the largest as well. It is a great irony, then, that Jesus wrote to them what is certainly the harshest of the seven letters in Revelation 3:14-22:

“Write to the angel of the church in Laodicea: Thus says the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the originator of God’s creation: I know your works, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish that you were cold or hot. So, because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I am going to vomit you out of my mouth. For you say, ‘I’m rich; I have become wealthy and need nothing,’ and you don’t realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind, and naked. I advise you to buy from me gold refined in the fire so that you may be rich, white clothes so that you may be dressed and your shameful nakedness not be exposed, and ointment to spread on your eyes so that you may see. As many as I love, I rebuke and discipline. So be zealous and repent. See! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.

“To the one who conquers I will give the right to sit with me on my throne, just as I also conquered and sat down with my Father on his throne.

“Let anyone who has ears to hear listen to what the Spirit says to the churches.”

Jesus knows our commitment.

True to form, Jesus once again introduces himself at the very outset of this letter. Also true to form, the way he introduces himself carries great significance to the situation in Laodicea. In particular, Jesus introduces himself as “the Amen” (vs 14). Far more than just the last word of a prayer, the word “amen” was rendered by the King James Version as “verily” and by other translations as “truly” or “yes.” In its original usage, though, it was what people said when they agreed with each other, just like the crew of the Battlestar Galactica (2004) would say, “So say we all.” For Jesus to identify himself as “the amen,” then, is to emphasize his absolute, uncompromising, unyielding consistency and faithfulness. He is 100% true. Every time. It is not just something he does; it is who he is. He is not just the epitome of these things, but the very definition of them.

As though that was not clear, this notion is reinforced by the next portion of Jesus’ introduction: “the faithful and true witness” (vs. 14). This phrase, however, specifically applies to what Jesus says. Thus, we have that Jesus is who he says he is and does what he says he does. He is faithful, consistent, and always true.

Certainly, he is never wishy-washy, hypocritical, or uncommitted.

To this strong statement, Jesus added that he was “the originator of God’s creation” (vs. 14). The word which we see rendered “originator” carries the ideas of beginning and ruler. To be clear, Jesus here is not suggesting that he rules over creation by virtue of the fact that he was the first thing created. No, the idea here is that he is the originator, “the Being from which the creation begins, the Word that made all things” (source: Johnson, B. People’s New Testament). That is, he decided to create the heavens and the earth, he made it happen, and he now sustains it. Talk about commitment!

Then, in verse 15, it is this Jesus who says, “I know your works.” In three previous letters, Jesus wrote the same thing. For Thyatira and Philadelphia, it went well. Those two churches were commended for their works. With Sardis, things did not go as well, but at least there, Jesus recognized their reputation and noted that there were some sparks of life remaining despite the hypocrisy which was rampant.

With Laodicea, things were bad from start to end. In fact, the Laodicean church carried the singular distinction of being the only one of the seven churches about which Jesus had absolutely nothing positive to say.

What did Jesus find so wrong with the Laodicean church? Jesus wasted no time delivering his indictment: “You are neither cold nor hot” (vs. 15). In other words, they were lukewarm (vs. 16). This was an instantly recognizable concept for the Laodiceans: their water supply started out at the hot springs of Hierapolis and, five miles of aqueduct later, reached them lukewarm. It was a perfect illustration for the congregation’s utter lack of commitment because, just as the water was one part hot, one part not, they had one foot planted firmly in the church, saying, “Oh, yes, I’m a Christian,” while the other foot was planted just as firmly in the world, saying, “But I’m also a part of this world.” They simultaneously laid claim to all the benefits of the faith, earthly and eternal, and did whatever worldly things they wanted as well. In short, they were unwilling to commit to being – or not being – a Christian.

In other words, Jesus was telling the Laodicean believers that he fully knew their commitment, and he knows ours, too. Like Santa Clause, he knows if we are fully committed to him. He knows if we are committed to the world. He knows whether we are a committed to both, which is really no commitment at all. And as long as we remain uncommitted, lukewarm, then we are absolutely useless to him.

In fact, that is exactly what the whole “cold or hot” thing is all about. This probably seems strange because, if you are like me, then you have heard preachers wax eloquent about how hot represents faith, cold represents a lack of faith, and Jesus would have us decide to be either totally against him than remain lukewarm. In fact, Jesus was in no way suggesting that rejecting him was acceptable. After all, the Bible is quite clear that Jesus wants no one to perish (2 Peter 3:9). Further, we need not commit to anything in particular in order to commit to the world: we started out as slaves to sin.

Imagine, though, what the Laodiceans, who had only lukewarm water to use, would have given for even a splash of ice-cold water, especially on a hot summer day! Further, the Laodiceans knew all about the medicinal and therapeutic uses for hot – really hot – water. Yet, if they wanted either cold or hot water – really cold or really hot water that was really useful – they had to commit to going to get it.

So let me say it again: Jesus knows our commitment, and as long as we remain uncommitted, halfway between hot and cold, lukewarm, we are absolutely useless to him.

But why is that? Because, as the Reflecting God Study Bible observes, “The church in Laodicea supplied neither healing for the spiritually sick nor refreshment for the spiritually weary.” Indeed, Jesus identified his purpose in John 10:10, declaring, “I have come so that they may have life and have it in abundance.” He expanded upon this in Luke 4:18-19, where he quoted Isaiah 61:1-2: “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to set free the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” Then there is Matthew 11:28, where he invited, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” That sure sounds to me an awful lot like healing for the spiritually sick and refreshment for the spiritually weary!

Yet, when we are not fully committed to Jesus, whether as a church or as individuals, we cannot offer any of that stuff. And if we are unable to offer any of that stuff, we can serve no purpose in Jesus’ mission.

Jesus knows our commitment, and to both the church at Laodicea and to the church today – to anyone who is not “all in,” so to speak – he laments in verses 16-17, “I wish that you were either cold or hot. So, because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I am going to vomit you out of my mouth.”

I must say, I completely understand what Jesus is saying here. If you have ever taken a great swig of what you expected to be cold, refreshing water, only to find it lukewarm, then you probably understand, too. There is a profound sense of disappointment, even revulsion. Perhaps you have even experienced a gag reflex. In fact, I have actually spit out a mouthful of lukewarm water.

Jesus’ reaction to lukewarm Christians, however, is far more intense than just tipping your head forward and opening your mouth. In the CSB, the word he used is translated “vomit.” Other translations render it “spit” (e.g., NIV, ESV) or “spew” (KJV, ASV). My personal favorite is probably “spew” because it conveys the idea of violent, heaving, hurling, projectile vomit. The kind where your stomach is still heaving long after the last of its contents have been expelled with extreme prejudice.

In other words, it is not okay to be lukewarm! It is not okay to be lacking in commitment to Jesus!

The problem for most American Christians, however, is that very few of us consider ourselves lukewarm. Like the Laodiceans, we say, “I am rich; I have become wealthy and need nothing.” Indeed, we think we are better than fine because we have the good job, nice house, and/or beautiful wife and kids. Our bills are paid, at least for the most part; there is food on the table and gas in the car. In short, we have no real temporal needs, so we assume that we must be just fine.

Yet, Jesus is crying out to us, “You don’t realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind, and naked” (vs. 17)! He sees us for who we are on the inside, and as long as we are not fully, 100%, unwaveringly, unswervingly all in, we remain, in his eyes and in fact, “wretched, pitiful, poor, blind, and naked.” Because just as did with the Laodiceans, Jesus knows our commitment.

The Plan: We must commit.

So what do we do about it? Fortunately, as we have seen in each of the other letters to each of the other six churches of Asia Minor, Jesus provided for the Laodiceans and us a battle plan for taking out this stronghold of lukewarm-ness, and it involves five steps.

First, Jesus bid the Laodiceans, “Buy from me gold refined in the fire so that you may be rich” (vs. 18). In 1 Corinthians 3:12-15, St. Paul advised the Corinthian believers to build on the foundation of faith in Jesus “with gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay, or straw.” It was not, however, about a literal building. Rather, Jesus was talking about the stuff that we do. Similarly, in Revelation 3:18, Jesus was calling the Laodiceans and us to do what is really pure, right, and holy. This, in stark contrast to that which is just good. In other words, we are to raise our sights. Follow Jesus, and not just when it is easy, convenient, or expedient. Measure your conduct by his character and his command rather than whatever standard the world is putting forth today.

Second, Jesus called, “Buy from Me… white clothes so that you may be dressed and your shameful nakedness not be exposed” (vs. 18). In the Bible, white clothing often represented authentic holiness. For the Laodiceans, white clothing stood in stark contrast to the jet black wool which had made the region so very wealthy, just as authentic holiness stood in stark contrast to their actual spiritual state which was anything but holy. Indeed, the Laodiceans had assumed that, because they had all this magnificent stuff, they were good to go, but Jesus pointed out their “shameful nakedness.” This was an interesting phrase because the two words, “shameful” and “nakedness,” were complimentary. In fact, shame was often equated to both nakedness and guilt, and the point that Jesus was trying to make was that, just when we presume to be adequate and innocent, then we are anything but adequate or innocent! Fortunately, Jesus offers the solution: he would clothe us in real, legitimate holiness. His holiness. So that, when we actually stand before God in his presence, we will really look good. And while Jesus’ white robes of authentic holiness may be ill-fitting at first, his intention is that we will eventually grow into them so that our insides match what we do on the outside.

The third step of the battle plan Jesus drafted to oust the stronghold of lukewarm-ness was “buy from me… ointment to spread on your eyes so that you may see” (vs. 18). This was an obvious reference to the medical industry in Laodicea. Indeed, the Laodiceans assumed that, because they were called upon to fix others’ eyesight, they must be able to see. That vision, as is often the case in classic literature, represented knowledge, wisdom, and insight. In short, the Laodiceans thought they had everything figured out. In advising them to buy his ointment so that they could really see, Jesus was effectively saying, “Um, no.” Certainly, God endowed humanity with the tremendous gift of intellect. There are, therefore, many things that we can know in and of ourselves. However, Christians must never rely solely upon our earthly knowledge, wisdom, and insight. Quite frankly, they are limited in their perspective, unable to see things from God’s point of view. And they are errant in their attention, focusing on and even pursuing things which are directly contrary to God’s objectives for us. Rather, if we really want to know what to do or how to see ourselves, others, and the world for what they really are, then we need to ask Jesus.

So the first three steps are to commit ourselves to holy living, the inward transformation which leads to authentic holiness, and asking Jesus to help us see people and things as they really are. It is at this juncture that it should be noted that all of these things – the gold, the white clothes, and the ointment to see – come exclusively from Jesus. Try as we might to reproduce them for ourselves, we cannot do it. We need Jesus, first and foremost, in our effort to overcome the stronghold of lukewarm-ness. Why? Jesus offers some insight in the first half of verse 19: “As many as I love, I rebuke and discipline.” Rebuke, of course, is to correct or punish. Discipline can certainly include such things, but the primary biblical usage is to refer to training children. In other words, we need Jesus because he will correct us when we are wrong and teach us the right way. Further, his motivation in all of this is love. That is, he does these things not to use or abuse us, but because he sincerely and earnestly cares about us.

This, however, does not let us off the hook. The fourth step of the battle plan, which Jesus lays out in the second half of verse 19, is “be zealous.” Other translations render this word “earnest” (e.g., NIV2011); “serious” (e.g., ISV); and my personal favorite, “committed” (HCSB2009). However you translate the word, though, the idea is clearly to be and do the exact opposite of what they were right now. Rather than being lukewarm, they needed to be icy cold or piping hot. Rather than being indifferent or apathetic, they needed to be all in. Rather than being complacent because things were going so well, Jesus cried, “Decide!”

Finally, Jesus called, “Repent.” Henry Cloud explained this word thusly: “Once they ‘get it,’ they never go back to seeing or doing things the old way” (Source: Never Go Back: 10 Things You’ll Never Do Again” by Henry Cloud, pg. 5). Indeed, Jesus’ point was that, if the Laodiceans were to avoid being vomited out and become useful to Jesus, then they would need to stop being lukewarm! They could not continue to be part Christian and part world because, until they were all Christian, they were utterly useless to him. We must realize that being lukewarm is not okay! We need to be sorry for it! And we need to decide to be hot or cold and never go back to being just lukewarm.

The Promise

To be certain, Jesus’ plan for dislodging lukewarm-ness was not easy, but the stakes are too great to do nothing. Indeed, as Jesus pointed his final letter toward its conclusion, he painted a pretty grim picture of what would happen if the Laodicean church remained in its current state. Namely, he says, “I stand at the door and knock.”

Consider, for a moment, the ramifications of Jesus’ statement. The Laodiceans, by their lack of commitment, had driven Jesus out of their church. Yes, that statement is worded quite deliberately. Yes, you should go back and read it again. Jesus had not rejected them. In fact, “he wanted… to dine with them – an image associated with intimacy in the ancient world” (source: NIV Archaological Study Bible by Zondervan). The Laodiceans, by their lack of commitment, had driven Jesus out of their church. Indeed, the word image here is that of “the master of the house, expecting alert servants to respond immediately to his signal and welcome his entrance” (source: ESV Study Bible by Crossway Books). Instead, it was the Laodiceans themselves who had driven Jesus from their midst, and with him, the Holy Spirit and any power that they could have hoped to wield to impact the world. And the question which confronted the Laodiceans was whether they would open the door and let him back in.

We must welcome Jesus. In New Testament times, that meant opening the door, taking his coat, and washing his feet. It meant tending to his animals and preparing him a meal. In short, it meant getting busy serving him.

Notice, however, what Jesus promised the Laodiceans and us if we will do these things: “If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me” (vs. 20). Something subtle but highly significant happens in this statement. It starts with us playing the typical part of the servant and opening the door. This is to be expected. But then Jesus says, “I will… eat with him, and he with me.” Masters do not eat with servants. If anything, one would expect that the servant would prepare a meal for his master and then stand by to wait on him as needed. In this case, though, Jesus reveals that master and servant will sit down at the table, to the meal, together.

In short, Jesus was elevating to his own level the faithful servant who invites him through wholehearted commitment.

Further, as if that was not enough, he continued, “To the one who conquers I will give the right to sit with me on my throne, just as I also conquered and sat down with my Father on his throne” (vs. 21). Here, Jesus recognized that committing to him involves more than just opening the door. In fact, this world and its master will do everything in their power to stop us from committing ourselves wholly to Jesus. Thus, if we decide to open that door, we will have a real fight on our hands! If we will fight through that resistance and commit to Jesus, though, the prize is a spot right next to him on his throne! More, his throne is the same throne that God the Father sits on!

The prospect of sharing a throne with Jesus and his heavenly Dad is exciting! Who would not jump at the chance to help God rule over all that is? No doubt, there were men and women at Laodicea eager to claim such a spot. After all, is this not exactly what James and John were asking in Mark 10:37? There, they bid Jesus, “Allow us to sit at your right and at your left in your glory.” Interestingly, James and John asked this right after they said in verse 35, “Teacher, we want you to do whatever we ask you.” Talk about revealing your own heart! These two disciples wanted nothing to do with serving Jesus! Rather, they wanted to tell him what to do. They thought they could tell Jesus how to better run his kingdom!

And if James and John, two lowly fishermen from Galilee were so daring, one can only expect that the wealthy, educated, successful Laodiceans would feel the same.

Certainly, I know I feel this way far more often than I care to admit.

Therefore, before we conclude this chapter about defeating the stronghold of lukewarm-ness, it is prudent for us to remember that this promise of ruling on high with Jesus is extended only to those who will open the door to Jesus as a servant. Indeed, servanthood is what it looks like to conquer and/or lead in God’s economy. Servanthood is what it means to be truly committed to Jesus.

If we are going to overcome the stronghold of lukewarm-ness in our lives, then we must welcome Jesus back into our hearts and minds. We must welcome him to direct our steps, transform our minds, and help us to see ourselves and others as he does. We must welcome him to tell us who to be and what to do.

In short, every day, every hour, we must commit ourselves without condition, qualification, or reserve to Jesus.