The Seven Churches of Revelation

The Church at Laodicea

Revelation 3:14-22 (KJV) · A rich banking and trade city, proud of its self-sufficiency · 7 of 7

The church at Laodicea was lukewarm, neither cold nor hot, and thought itself rich and in need of nothing, while Christ saw it as wretched, poor, blind, and naked. It is the only church he commends nothing in, yet also the one to whom he speaks the tenderest invitation of all, standing at the door and knocking, offering to come in and sup with anyone who opens. He counsels them to buy from him true gold, white raiment, and sight, and promises a seat on his throne to the one who overcomes.

The letter of Christ to Laodicea

And unto the angel of the church of the Laodiceans write; These things saith the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the beginning of the creation of God; I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot: I would thou wert cold or hot. So then because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth. Because thou sayest, I am rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing; and knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked: I counsel thee to buy of me gold tried in the fire, that thou mayest be rich; and white raiment, that thou mayest be clothed, and that the shame of thy nakedness do not appear; and anoint thine eyes with eyesalve, that thou mayest see. As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten: be zealous therefore, and repent. Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me. To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with me in my throne, even as I also overcame, and am set down with my Father in his throne. He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches.Revelation 3:14-22 (KJV)

How Jesus describes himself to Laodicea

To the self-satisfied church Christ presents himself as the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the beginning of the creation of God. He is the Amen, the final yes and truth of God, the faithful and true witness whose testimony can be trusted absolutely, and the beginning, the source and origin, of God's whole creation.

It is a fitting way to appear to a church deceived about itself. Against Laodicea's false and flattering self-assessment, Christ sets himself as the true witness who cannot lie. Where the church says one thing about its condition, the faithful and true witness will say another, and his word is the Amen, the last word. A congregation that had grown comfortable with its own opinion of itself is about to hear the truth from the only One qualified to give it.

What Christ finds, where a commendation would go

Alone among the seven, Laodicea receives no praise at all. I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot: I would thou wert cold or hot. So then because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth. The image is nauseating on purpose. Cold water refreshes and hot water heals, but the lukewarm water of Laodicea, famous for its tepid and unpleasant supply, is fit only to be spat out.

The lukewarmness is not doubt or open rebellion but complacency, a faith gone tepid, indifferent, comfortable. And it is joined to a stunning self-deception: because thou sayest, I am rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing; and knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked. The church's estimate of itself and Christ's estimate could not be further apart. It felt full and needed nothing. He saw it as bankrupt, exposed, and blind, and most dangerous of all, unaware. There is no sin harder to repent of than one you are sure you do not have.

The counsel, and the love behind it

Yet the letter does not end in rejection. Christ turns at once to counsel, and every remedy answers the city's own boasts. I counsel thee to buy of me gold tried in the fire, that thou mayest be rich, he says to a banking city proud of its wealth; and white raiment, that thou mayest be clothed, to a city famous for its glossy black wool and fine garments; and anoint thine eyes with eyesalve, that thou mayest see, to a city known for a medical school and an eye ointment. Everything they thought they possessed, they must come to him to receive for real.

And then he lays bare the heart of it: As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten: be zealous therefore, and repent. The scalding words were never contempt. They were love. Christ rebukes and disciplines the church precisely because he loves it, and he calls it not to despair but to fresh zeal and repentance. The hardest letter of the seven turns out to be spoken by the tenderest love.

His call, and his promise to the one who overcomes

Then comes the most beloved image in all seven letters. Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me. The Lord who could spew this church out instead stands outside its door and knocks. He does not force the latch. He waits to be welcomed, and to anyone who hears his voice and opens, he promises the nearest fellowship, to come in and share a meal, the intimacy of a shared table.

It is astonishing that in the church most sure it needed nothing, Christ pictures himself standing outside, seeking entrance. And the promise crowns it: To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with me in my throne, even as I also overcame, and am set down with my Father in his throne. To the poor, blind, naked church, if only it will open the door, he offers a seat on his own throne. The One who overcame by the cross shares his victory with all who let him in.

Laodicea, the real city

Laodicea was a wealthy commercial center at the crossing of major trade routes, famous for three things: banking and finance, a glossy black wool that made fine clothing, and a medical school known for an eye ointment. It was so rich that when a great earthquake leveled it, the city refused imperial help and rebuilt itself out of its own resources, a proud gesture that captured its spirit exactly.

It had one weakness. Laodicea had no good water of its own. Cold, refreshing water was piped from the springs of nearby Colossae, and hot, healing mineral water flowed at nearby Hierapolis, but by the time water reached Laodicea it arrived lukewarm and full of minerals, useful for nothing and known to make people sick. Christ's image of a faith neither cold nor hot, fit to be spat out, drew on something every citizen knew from their own cups. Their wealth, their clothing, their eye salve, and even their water became a mirror of their soul.

What this letter says to the church, and to us

Laodicea is the letter for the comfortable, prosperous, self-satisfied church, the one in the greatest danger precisely because it feels no danger. Its lukewarmness is not dramatic sin but complacent ease, a faith that has everything it wants and therefore wants little of Christ. The deadliest condition of the seven is the one that thinks itself well.

And yet this is the letter that ends with Christ knocking at the door. He does not walk away from the church that has, in effect, shut him out. He stands, he knocks, he speaks, and he waits to be let in and to share a meal with anyone who will open. The love that rebukes is the love that knocks. To every complacent heart and every comfortable congregation, the risen Christ still says: buy of me what you truly need, be zealous and repent, and open the door. He is standing there now, and he wants to come in.

There is a searching grace in the whole shape of this last letter. Christ meets Laodicea's every boast with the truth of its poverty, and then meets its poverty with the riches of himself: real gold, white raiment, healing sight, a shared meal, and finally a seat on his own throne. Everything the church thought it already had, he offers to give it in truth, if only it will stop pretending it needs nothing. The one thing he cannot do is force the door. He knocks, and he waits, because love does not break in. The letter that begins with the danger of self-satisfied ease ends with the gentlest picture of the gospel in all of Scripture, a Lord outside a closed door, hand raised, patiently knocking, wanting nothing more than to be welcomed in and to sit down at the table with the very people who thought they had no need of him.

These were seven real churches in real cities of Asia Minor, near the end of the first century, and the letters were addressed to them by name. The church has always read them also as a word of the risen Christ to his whole church in every age, and to each believer who has an ear to hear. They are not a coded calendar of the end of the world, and no date is set here. They are the searching, loving words of the Lord who still walks among his churches.

The other churches: Ephesus · Smyrna · Pergamos · Thyatira · Sardis · Philadelphia · All seven