Original Meaning

PERHAPS MOST CONCRETE in local color is the message of Jesus to the church at Laodicea. Laodicea lay in Phrygia’s Lycus Valley, ten miles west of Colosse (Col. 2:1; 4:15–16) and six miles south of Hierapolis (Col. 4:13). Pagan worship, especially of Zeus but also of numerous other deities (such as Dionysus, Helios, Hera, and Athena) flourished there.1 A significant Jewish community lived in Phrygia (Acts 13:14–50; 14:1–5, 19), but they seem to have blended into Greek culture in many respects.2 By the third century illustrations on some coins had mixed together Jewish and pagan versions of the Flood stories.3

Jesus pulls no punches when he addresses the Laodicean church. He is the “Amen” (3:14), a Hebrew term of confirmation (e.g., Jer. 11:5; 28:6) that suggests the assurance of all his promises (cf. 2 Cor. 1:20).4 Likewise he is “faithful and true” (3:14), a way of emphasizing again the certainty of his promises (19:11; 21:5; 22:6). Yet for the Laodicean Christians this was not exclusively good news. Jesus was also “the ruler” (3:14; lit., “the beginning”). Elsewhere in Revelation “beginning” is an explicitly divine title linked with “first” (21:6; 22:13), a clear divine title in Isaiah 41:4; 44:6; 48:12. Cognates of the Greek word used here (archē) denote “ruler”—a word that can denote rule or power; the Roman emperor in fact called himself the princeps, or “first” among Romans, but was worshiped as a deity.

Laodicea boasted great resources (3:17), but while the Laodicean Christians likely shared their Laodicean neighbors’ pride over their self-sufficiency in many respects, they presumably also shared a common dislike for their water supply (3:15–16). The bad situation of Laodicea’s water was well known. Ancient sources are explicit that, though it was more drinkable than that of Hierapolis, it was full of sediment.5 Excavation of the city’s terra cotta pipes reveal thick lime deposits, which suggest heavy contamination in the water supply; lime deposits on the waterfall cliff just opposite Laodicea would provide a constant visible reminder of their water supply.6

Laodicea lacked its own water supply, having no direct access to the cold water of the mountains or the hot water of the nearby springs in Hierapolis to the north. In contrast to its claims to self-sufficiency (3:17), it had to pipe in its water; though much of the aqueduct from the south was underground, nearer the city it came through stone barrel pipes, thus remaining vulnerable to any intended besiegers who wished to cut off the city’s water supply.7 More important, this water had grown lukewarm by the time of its arrival.

The point of lukewarm water is simply that it is disgusting, in contrast to the more directly useful “hot” and “cold” water; all the churches would plainly understand this warning.8 Hot water (as long as it was not too hot) was useful for bathing; waters at hot springs like nearby Hierapolis or other sites was considered helpful for relieving ailments. Of course, Laodiceans could have reheated the water themselves, but this was extra work, a matter some may have regarded as drudgery.9 Cold water was useful for drinking and available in nearby locations like Colosse, but Laodicea’s water did not arrive in this state. Most people preferred cold drinks, but hot drinks were also common at banquets.10

Jesus thus finds the church in Laodicea to be other than what he desires (cf. Isa. 5:2–6). In today’s English, he is telling the self-satisfied church in Laodicea: “I want water that will refresh me, but you remind me instead of the water you always complain about. You make me want to puke.” Earlier prophets also used images of rotten food to describe God’s rejection of people who had grown disgusting to him (Jer. 24), but Jesus contextualizes the image for Laodicea. Ancients also applied to people the analogy of spitting out bitter water.11

Jesus’ challenge to the Laodicean Christians’ self-sufficiency (3:17–18) reminds us how readily we Christians absorb the attitudes of our culture without pausing for critical reflection on this behavior.12 Laodicea was known as a wealthy banking center, and it had flourished especially under the imperial dynasty that remained in power in John’s day.13 The city hosted gladiatorial games as early as 50 B.C. and boasted a theater.14 More important, it was the capital of the Cibryatic convention, which included at least twenty-five towns.15 Local civic pride grew fierce in some cities of Asia, and Laodicea vied for power with Antioch, its primary rival in Phrygia.16 So arrogant was Laodicea about its wealth that when the emperor proposed to help rebuild Laodicea along with other Asian cities destroyed by an earthquake in A.D. 60, Laodicea refused what we would call the “federal disaster relief funds.”17

Laodiceans would doubt that they were “naked”; their city was famous for its production of textiles, especially cloth and carpets woven from black wool.18 Thus some commentators observe that Jesus’ offer of “white clothes” probably provides a stark contrast with this notorious black wool of Laodicea. They may also experience surprise that they need Jesus to supply them spiritual eye salve. Ancient sources report a first-century medical school located in Laodicea, ear ointment made there, a famous eye doctor practicing there, and eye salve made of Phrygian powder (probably abundantly available there).19 Yet most Laodiceans would acknowledge the usefulness of divine help alongside their medical establishment.20 Thus the city greatly revered both Apollo, god of prophecy, and Asklepios, god of healing.21

The language of 3:17–18 employs the technique of irony common in ancient texts: thus, for example, a blind seer tells a sighted king that he sees but will be blind, and is rich but will become poor;22 but the metaphor is especially common in the biblical prophets (Isa. 6:10; 29:9; 42:19; 43:8; 56:10; Jer. 5:21; Ezek. 12:2; cf. John 9:39–41). The Laodicean Christians, reflecting the values of their prosperous society, boast, “I am rich and wealthy,” as had Israel of old (Hos. 12:8).23 Jesus advises them to buy true wealth and garments from him (Rev. 3:18; 21:18, 21; cf. Isa. 55:1), which contrast starkly with the grandeur of the world (Rev. 17:4; 18:12, 16).

Lest anyone misunderstand the tone and motivation of Jesus’ rebuke, he makes clear that its purpose is love (3:19, using the language of Prov. 3:12; cf. Heb. 12:6; 1 Clem. 56.4).24 Indeed, not only does Jesus not reject them, but he wants to have dinner with them (Rev. 3:20), a familiar image for intimacy in antiquity;25 inviting Jesus in for a meal was the least sort of hospitality one would expect of even an acquaintance. Can a Christian who calls Jesus Lord do any less? The personalized nature of the invitation suggests that not only the future messianic banquet (2:17; 19:9) but a present foretaste of the intimacy available to those who respond to Jesus’ call; hearing Jesus’ “voice” may perform the same function as in John 10:3–4. Jesus is inviting the Laodicean Christians to realize how they have shut him out of their lives with their own self-sufficiency.

Jesus provides a promise of sharing his reign to those who like him “overcome” (3:21). This is a familiar promise for the future in Revelation (2:26–27; 5:10; 20:6; 22:5); although in the present believers share Christ’s exaltation over the demonic powers (Eph. 1:20–23; 2:6), early Christian literature indicates that the fullness of our reign awaits Christ’s return (Matt. 5:5; Rom. 5:17; 8:32; 2 Tim. 2:12). The eschatological enthronement and reign of the righteous is a familiar Jewish concept (Dan. 7:22; 1 En. 108:12).26

Bridging Contexts

WE MUST NOT allow theological presuppositions to control our reading of the text. An extreme example of doing this is the cult that takes “beginning of God’s creation” in 3:14 (which the NIV interprets as “ruler of God’s creation”) as an admission that Jesus is a created being, albeit the first one created.27 But such interpretation is an attempt to force biblical texts into a prior theological commitment. “Beginning” is in fact a divine title in Revelation, identical with “the First and the Last” (21:6; 22:13)—explicit divine titles in Isaiah (Isa. 41:4; 44:6; 48:12). In view of this usage, Jesus is the source of creation here rather than its first sample; the text implies his deity rather than the opposite. “ ‘God has no origin,’ said Novatian, and it is precisely this concept of no-origin which distinguishes That-which-is-God from whatever is not God.”28

Some writers have overstated our future spiritual privileges by affirming that Christians will share “equality” with God.29 Although the idea runs counter to the entire tenor of Scripture, one text in which they might find most ready support for such an assertion is 3:21. One can argue that sharing a throne may connote the equality of those who share it.30 The point of the image, however, is the believers’ exaltation to reign with Christ (5:10; 20:6; 22:5); the rest of the book clearly qualifies this reign as subject to God for all eternity (4:10; 22:2–4).

Of course, orthodox Christians are also capable of misapprehending other aspects of texts on the basis of our traditions of interpretation, even if on a lesser level. Sometimes the way we have heard a text applied misleads us in interpretation. Some interpreters regard “hot” as good, symbolizing fiery zeal for God, whereas “cold” refers to spiritual deadness and “lukewarm” to those who try to play both sides of the spiritual fence.31

While God certainly opposes any attempt to play both sides of a spiritual fence (cf. James 4:4, 7–8), this interpretation misses the point of Jesus’ analogy. Heat is not always a positive symbol in the Bible, nor is cold always a negative one (cf. fire as judgment in Matt. 3:10–12); and in the case of water cold is more often a positive symbol in ancient literature than hot is (cf. Matt. 10:42). The real point is that whereas hot and cold water both serve important functions, even at times in drinking, lukewarm water does not; it must be either heated or left somewhere in the shade to cool off. As some pampered Laodiceans might complain that their water made them sick, Jesus tells the pampered Laodicean Christians that this is just how he feels about them.32

Contextualizing the message for today’s church does not mean sugarcoating it, because when Jesus addresses the Laodicean Christians harshly, he addresses a church that is in many respects like many churches today (see below).

Contemporary Significance

LISTENING TO JESUS’ rebuke. Jesus’ words to the church in Laodicea are uncomfortable not only because of the issues they address but simply because they constitute a rebuke (3:19). In the therapeutic mode of modern Western Christianity, we do not want to hear from a God who will speak harshly to us. Many Christians feel victimized (some for good reasons) and regard as insensitive any criticism of their own or anyone else’s values. But Christ has a harsh word for many of us.

To be sure, Jesus speaks tenderly to those who have truly been broken—to the weak and marginalized, to those who have suffered (2:9–10; 3:8–10). We should not be callous in applying Jesus’ forthright rebukes to Laodicea to our brothers and sisters working through genuine pain in their lives. But Jesus’ words strike like thunder those churches that are self-satisfied and secure in their own endowments—those who like the Laodicean society and its church feel little need for help from outside themselves.

Yet even when Jesus rebukes complacent, self-satisfied Christians, we must not miss the tone of his voice. His cries of reproof flow not from irrational anger but from a broken heart: “Those whom I love I rebuke and discipline” (3:19). Then he invites us over for dinner (the current Western idiom “do lunch” may not be quite strong enough in this instance) if we will but open the door to him (3:20). God desires intimacy with us in the deepest recesses of our lives.33 The focus of this text is Jesus’ reproof and summons to unrepentant Christians.34

The danger of physical wealth and spiritual poverty. The church in Laodicea reflected the values of its culture: proud, self-sufficient, not needing any outside help, including much from the Lord (3:17). They contrasted with suffering churches that recognized their own desperation for God’s intervention (cf. 2:9; 3:8). Comparing the church in North America with churches in many other parts of the world, I fear that the problems of Laodicea’s Christians are most like our own.35 We hear of massive suffering elsewhere and often find theological or sociological explanations for it to avoid the thought that we could experience the same hardships. Many of us are eager to export the profound learning of North American Christianity without humbly listening first to the lessons learned by other churches who have suffered far more than we have.

Prayerlessness or dry devotional times, so typical of many of our lives in the West, often stem from a lack of sense of need before God. Our material abundance can, if we are unwary, prove a source of spiritual poverty as it did for the Christians of Laodicea. Our indifference to persecution, political oppression, and other forms of suffering pervasive among our spiritual siblings in many regions likewise betrays our contentment with the world as we experience it. As in Laodicea, our prosperity may blind us. Note this comment from Richard Stearns of World Vision, former CEO of Lenox, Inc. (a manufacturer of fine china): “If the Book of Revelation were written today, and there was a letter to the church in America, I think it would decry the fact that our materialism and wealth have deafened our ears and blinded our eyes to the cause of the poor.”36

Some of us learn such comparisons the hard way. Thus one minister registered his shock when a member of a delegation of Russian visitors lamented their disappointment in American Christian youth. “Since they are Christians, I expected that they would be concerned about spiritual things. Instead, they are more materialistic than the Marxist youth in my country.”37 Perhaps somewhat hyperbolically, a Jewish student who had recently become a Christian complained to the same minister, “If somebody took Jesus’ teachings in the Beatitudes (Matt. 5:3–12) and decided to create a religion that contradicted those teachings, then he’d probably come up with the Protestant church.”38 In prison, former televangelist Jim Bakker realized to his horror that he had been teaching the exact opposite of what Jesus had taught.39 We have a long way to go to fulfill God’s calling.

Some churches are weak, yet endure (3:8); some are poor, yet rich (2:9), like the Nepalese Christians, who have multiplied so many times over through much suffering and poverty. But some churches think that they are rich, yet do not know how devoid they are of true spiritual power (3:17–18). We do not think of ourselves as arrogant or uncommitted, yet as our own brothers and sisters in Christ suffer and die for their faith in many lands, we share little of our resources to help them, and most North American Christians do not even pray for them. While our economy is comparatively strong, we have opportunities to multiply our resources many times over; but our time, like every other nation’s time, will run out. May we have wisdom to sow for eternal things while we have opportunity.

“It used to be tough [to be a Christian] because it cost so much,” one commentator remarked. “Now it’s tough because it pays. Of the two, the latter is by far the most insidious.”40 “I do not see how it is possible … for any revival of religion to continue long,” Wesley complained; for true religion produces hard work and thrift, which produce wealth, but wealth in turn produces “love of the world in all its branches.”41 A warning of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., originally uttered in a context of the church’s silence on racial segregation, remains appropriate today regarding many other areas of the church’s isolation from today’s issues:

But the judgment of God is upon the Church as never before. If the Church of today does not recapture the sacrificial spirit of the early Church, it will lose its authentic ring, forfeit the loyalty of millions, and be dismissed as an irrelevant social club with no meaning for the twentieth century. I am meeting young people every day whose disappointment with the Church has risen to outright disgust. Maybe again I have been too optimistic. Is organized religion too inextricably bound to the status quo to save our nation and the world?42

This was not a new problem in King’s day; many of the abolitionists “ended up disillusioned and disgusted” by the halfhearted response of most of the church to their cries for justice, “and some of them lost their faith.”43 Such disillusionment helped set the stage for an increasing secularism in the United States.

Experiencing the Tribulation. On a practical level, Western Christianity has sometimes misrepresented the cost of the gospel even to others. In a memo celebrating the spread of Christ’s message in China, an American denomination’s missions director also noted that during Mao Tse Tung’s purges, which led to millions of deaths, many Chinese Christians believed that “the Great Tribulation had begun, that they had missed the awaited rapture of the Church, and were now committed to the cold possibilities of martyrdom.”44 Yet if we catch the whole context of Revelation, all Christians should be prepared for martyrdom and should teach accordingly. As Brother Andrew put it, urging North American Christians to lay their lives on the line for the gospel, many Chinese Christians did not want the missionaries to return, because “we’ve gone through the great tribulation and there was no Rapture. You were liars.”45

Nor have Christians felt that they experienced the Great Tribulation only in this century; like the early church fathers, for example, the first Anabaptists, a Protestant group hated by Catholics and other Protestants alike, believed that they were in the Tribulation directly preceding the Second Coming.46 Today our increasing vulnerability to international terrorism is beginning to get our attention, reminding us that the United States, like every other nation and empire of history, has only its season in God’s plan.47 We who are Christians should use what remains of that season not to increase our luxury but to serve God’s purposes among the nations.

The solution to Laodicean Christianity is repentance (3:19)—admitting that we consume our fabulous dinners without the presence of Jesus (3:20), who dwells only with the contrite and broken (Isa. 57:15; 66:2; James 4:6). We eat without him because our self-glorification, which resembles that of the world (Rev. 18:7), nauseates him (3:16). If we humble our hearts and listen to his voice in the Scriptures and through the churches elsewhere, we may yet overcome.