Hope for a Hopeless Church

Of the seven churches to which Christ addresses letters in the opening chapters of Revelation, the most famous is Laodicea (found in Revelation 3:14-22). When we think of these seven churches, this is usually the one we think of first—and not for good reason. Most of these churches had problems, but Laodicea is by far the worst. Sardis was a dead church; it was the church that wasn't there. And yet Jesus had a few good things he could say about it—at least, about some of the people in it. But for Laodicea, God Himself could find nothing positive to say.

It wasn't even that they had false teachers corrupting the church, as Pergamos and Thyatira did. Their problem was simply that they had fallen away from God. They were lukewarm, neither hot nor cold—either one of which would have been better. Think of that for a moment. Jesus is saying that it would have been better for them to be cold—seemingly, this means that it would have been better for them to be utterly outside the church, to be complete pagans without any profession than to be in the state they were. If nothing else, there was more chance of their repenting then. But they were trapped in the middle—with the professions and externals of a church but with no dedication to God, with no life—and they don't seem even to have realized it. In Adventures in Odyssey, Katrina tells Eugine that he has “just enough Christianity to be immune to it.” That seems to have been the state of the Laodiceans. If there was ever a church that was in an utterly hopeless position, it was the church at Laodicea.

And one of the reasons this church is so famous is because so many people have compared it to the state of the church in our own time. It is common in certain circles to refer to the modern church, at least in America, as a “Laodicean church.” We should be careful not to paint with too broad a brush. Each church is unique. But certainly, there are many churches in America that have been guilty of being lukewarm—of having a profession of Christianity, of having a good appearance, of talking a good talk, but being far from God. The condemnation of verse 17 is often very apt: “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.” If there ever was a hopeless church, it would be many churches in America today.

But that is the strange fact about Laodicea. Jesus' words to them are harsh and uncompromising. But they are also words of hope. Laodicea's situation was bad but it was not irredeemable. Their state was desperate, it was dangerous, it was despicable, but it was not doomed. Jesus wrote to them to spur them on, not to destroy them. Laodicea was the hopeless church—that had hope. 

If Jesus wrote a letter to the modern church, His words would probably be harsh and uncompromising. It would probably contain statements as condemnatory as the words we read here. But I believe that, just like for Laodicea, there would also be words of hope. The church may often seem hopeless—but it has hope.

Because that hope is not in something we can do; not in some external force or resource. Those things come and go. But Jesus remains the same—and it was Jesus Himself who was the hope for Laodicea—and it the same Jesus who is our hope. Revelation is the Revelation of Jesus, and in these verses, we see Jesus in four roles or positions from which he offered hope to the church.

First, we see that He is the Rebuker. This may seem like a strange thing to mention as a ground for hope, but it is. The whole context of this letter is that Jesus is making a point to speak to this church, to rebuke them for their poor spiritual condition. 

Notice how Jesus identifies himself in verse 14. He is the voice of truth. He calls himself the Amen. The word Amen comes to us from Hebrew and it literally means “sure.” Amen means that which is certain, trustworthy, true. So that is why it is used as an assent—if someone says something and you respond “Amen to that” you are saying that what they said is true and trustworthy. It is often proper to respond Amen to something someone says. But obviously, you would not say it to everything they say, because the words of no man are always sure and true. But Jesus, Jesus Himself, is The Amen, He is the sure and certain and trustworthy source of truth. Everything he says and does is true. This is echoed by the next words, “the faithful and true witness.” He is the one whose words can be depended upon; whose testimony is always free from both deceit and mistake. He is the voice of truth.

And he is the one who has the authority to speak. He is “the beginning of the creation of God.” He is the source and origination of all things, the fountainhead of all existence, the first cause from which all things come. Sometimes, when a group of people is working on a project, one of them will begin to give orders—and someone else will interject and say: “Who made YOU the boss?” But Jesus is, and by definition always will be the boss and He MADE everything else. 

He is the one with the right and authority to speak, and one whose words are always true. As I said, it may seem strange to think of this as a ground of hope. But it is. The problem with Laodicea is that they weren't even aware that they had a problem. They were like people with a disease who don't even know they're sick and so, naturally, won't go to the doctor.

While I was in college, I was to be in a friend's wedding and so I had driven several hours up to Lima, Ohio for the rehearsal. But on the way back, I got on the wrong road without realizing it. For well over an hour, I drove down the wrong road, getting farther and farther from where I was supposed to be. I was completely lost and, at the time, I didn't even know it. That was the condition of those at Laodicea. C. S. Lewis said that the best path for the Devil to take people to Hell is the gradual path with no turns and no signposts---with nothing to cause them to realize their lost state.

And that is why the Laodiceans one hope was in Jesus, the Rebuker. What they needed—and often what we need—is someone to tell us of our real need. Sometimes we need to hear the truth. And that is our ground of hope—that God cares enough about us not to let us on our own path. One ancient writer said that there are only two people who will tell you the truth about yourself—an enemy who has lost his temper and a friend who loves you dearly.

The verses we find here in Revelation are Jesus' words to the Laodiceans. And the Bible, as a whole, is Jesus' words to us. God is still speaking to His church. If we are not where we ought to be spiritually, there is still a voice of correction speaking from the pages of Scripture if we are willing to hear it. Jesus is still the Rebuker—the one with a message of correction and warning. 

However, that, on its own, would not be very much of a hope. But Jesus is also the Supplier. The Laodicean church may have had good numbers and superficial success, but they were lacking in the things that were truly important. That was Jesus' condemnation of the church—that despite their own good opinion of themselves and perhaps the good opinion of others, they were, in reality, wretched, miserable, poor, blind, and naked. 

Jesus' condemnation in verse 17 rings out like a bullet. But in verse 18 we have the answering echo: “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.”

In verse 14, Jesus identifies himself as “the beginning of the creation of God.” There is some debate about the meaning of that phrase, but it seems to mean either that Jesus is the originator of creation—that, as John says in his Gospel, “by him were all things made and without him was nothing made that was made”--or that He is the one with ultimate and primary authority over creation. The point, in either case, is the same—over both the natural and the spiritual world, Jesus is the one from whom all things come and who has power over all things. By definition, there can be no need that He cannot meet because He is the beginning of the creation of God. The church was in desperate need but it didn't have to be in need. Jesus was standing there at their side with everything they needed if they would just go to Him; for He was the church's supplier.

Let's go back a minute to verses 15-16, where Jesus says that Laodicea was neither hot nor cold but only lukewarm. That phrase would have been very meaningful to the people of Laodicea. The city of Laodicea had no good water source. Instead, all the water the city used had to be piped in from their neighbors—either from the hot springs of Hierapolis or the cold springs of Colossae—and in either case, once it arrived in Laodicea, it was lukewarm. And the thing is, that was just a reality the city had to accept. Not having a good water source was just the natural conditions they had to deal with. Given their situation, they could not help having lukewarm water. But the church of Laodicea did not have to be lukewarm. They could have had a fountain of living water springing up from their innermost being if they had wanted it.

Not everyone has the opportunity to become rich; many people simply lack the capacity or opportunities to achieve success as the world counts success. But the church at Laodicea had access to unsearchable riches if they had only asked for them. Many people, from a natural point of view, are simply doomed to a dark life by forces beyond their control. But the church at Laodicea had everything they needed to become a living, vibrant church. The only thing dark about their position was that they didn't realize their need of God and so had never asked Him for His gifts.

In Laodicea, the problem was that they didn't recognize their need. And that is still definitely a problem in the world today. You still meet people who are self-confident and self-satisfied. You meet worldly people who trust in their own efforts and talents; you meet church people who trust in a mere profession and appearance. But, at least in my experience, I think what I find more often are people who do recognize their need—who recognize their inability to face life successfully, their weakness regarding things that are truly important—and so they give in to despair. You meet so many people who have simply given up at the game of life. Sometimes they go through the motions of life without real effort; sometimes they seak to drown their failure through drugs or entertainment; and sometimes they simply use violence to end their own life. But as Christians, we realize that there is never a need for despair. The path may be difficult; it may be painful; but it is not impassible. With God, there are no dead-ends. No situation has to be hopeless unless we turn away from hope. No need has to go unmet so long as we remember that we have a Supplier.

But we have to remember, there are two sides to this. Merely having a Supplier is not enough, because there is something else we see about Jesus—that He is the Knocker. I said earlier that Jesus was standing beside the church, waiting. But that is almost too passive a picture. In Revelation 1, we see Jesus walking among his churches. But that isn't the whole picture. The whole picture is verse 20, where Jesus pictures Himself knocking at a door; asking, waiting to be invited inside.

It wasn't just that Jesus COULD HAVE answered their need if they had asked. Jesus wasn't just idly watching the church at Laodicea, observing their need and waiting for them to come to Him. He was actively asking, almost pleading with them. He was the Rebuker, who was trying to make them realize their need; and here He is, knocking at the door of their hearts, waiting for the opportunity to come in and meet their needs.

And that is the important balance we have to understand about Jesus' relationship to His church and to individuals.  Jesus always takes the initiative. We talk about “Man's search for God” but in the final analysis, God is the one who searches for man. From that day of the first sin, when God called to Adam in the garden, God has always been searching for man, like a good shepherd searching for a lost sheep.  Jesus doesn't just sit back in Heaven waiting for somebody to come and ask for His help. He is the active agent. He is the one out there knocking on people's doors. If Jesus didn't take the initiative, we would be helpless. There is a song that puts it something like this: Because I could not go to where He was, He came to me.

But the other side of that is that Jesus leaves the decision with us. Jesus is knocking at the door. He isn't battering the door with an ax; He isn't picking the lock or knocking out the window. He is knocking.  When writing to Philadelphia, Jesus spoke of himself as the one who had the key of David, the authority of a king, the one who could open any door. He was assuring the Philadelphians that their enemies could not prevail against them. But to Laodicea, He comes not as a king with a royal key, but as a guest—who knocks rather than forcing the door open.

Jesus knocks. That is His side. “If any man hear my voice, and open the door.” That is our side. We must make the decision whether to open the door to him. The final choice is ours. This is true both for the church as a whole and for each person individually. Jesus comes to us now as the Knocker, as the one who will help us but only if we let Him. 

But choices have consequences. Look at the end of verse 20: “I will come into him, and will sup with him, and he with me.” If Jesus comes into our lives, He fills our lives. He brings fellowship and communion with Him. He brings everything we need, in a spiritual sense anyway.  But by the same token, if we do not open to Him, if we leave Him standing outside, then He will not fill our lives. If you shut out the light, everything will be dark. If you do not let God into your life, your life will be God-forsaken. 

But the point is that, for Laodicea, for the church today, for you and for me, Jesus is waiting to help us with whatever we need if only we will make the decision to invite Him. But if we do, then anything is possible. Laodicea was a church in a very dark position. But for them, for the church as a whole and for every individual in it, there was the possibility of something better. 

And if they invited Jesus to help them, it would have consequences, because Jesus is also the Rewarder. As to every other church in Revelation, Jesus ends with a promise to “him that overcometh.” And that is, itself, a great promise. It was possible for these people to overcome—to overcome the lukewarmness of their church, to overcome the temptations of this world, to overcome the difficult age in which they lived, to overcome Satan Himself--just as Jesus did. 

Because Jesus makes a point of making that comparison—that He too is an overcomer; He overcame this world and sin and death and the Devil. And while, as God, He was superior to all those things, He deliberately came to this world in order to fight and conquer them so that now, we can share in His conquest. Jesus didn't have to defeat the Devil—the Devil could never be a threat to God in the first place—but because He has overcome him, we can share in that conquest.

But that is not the main point here. The main point is this. Because Jesus overcame this world, He was exalted. Paul describes this in Ephesians, when he says that God “raised [Christ] from the dead, and set him at his own right hand in the heavenly places, far above all principality, and power, and might, and dominion, and every name that is named, not only in this world, but also in that which is to come: and hath put all things under his feet.” (Ephesians 1:20b-22a) Jesus was, in principle, exalted over all things automatically because He's God. But because He became a man and overcame this world, He was given a special exaltation, set above all things, sharing the throne of God the Father. And as Christians, the opportunity, the possibility of sharing with Jesus in that triumph; of being exalted and sharing the throne of God Himself. That is the promise of verse 21. We cannot imagine all that that means, but the general idea is clear—this is a promise of exaltation and glorification.

And this promise was given to the church at Laodicea. This lukewarm, self-righteous church; this church whose name has passed into Christian language as a label for a bad church; this church who received such a stinging condemnation from Jesus had this promise in front of them—if only they would take advantage of God's provisions, if only they would open the door. Adam Clarke points out this irony—that the church which, of the seven, received the greatest condemnation also received the greatest promise. Even Laodicea had great things before them IF ONLY they would do what was necessary.

Jesus would be the Rewarder for Laodicea just as he was for Philadelphia or Smyrna if only they would let him. Today, the church often seems in a bad way. We often seem to be as lukewarm and lost as Laodicea. But Jesus is still the Rewarder. There are still great things open for us; there are still great promises—IF ONLY we will recognize our need of Jesus and open the door to Him.

In Revelation, we have seven letters to seven churches, we have seven windows into the life of first-century Christians. Each of these churches was unique, though there are some obvious similarities. And each of these churches had a problem. Each of these churches had enemies. Each of these churches had the forces of Satan standing close at hand—just outside their walls or, for some of them, just inside their walls—trying to destroy them. And I think I see in all of them some parallel to some portion of the church world today.

I don't know exactly why God chose to leave these records for us. These records of the past seem strangely out of place in a book whose main focus is the future. But while these churches and their problems and victories and struggles are all long dead by now, they still matter to us. Because each of these churches had a hope. Some of them were battered and beaten. Some were bruised and bloodied. Some were self-righteous and shallow. Some were corrupted and confused. Some were lost and lukewarm. All of them had problems. But none of them were hopeless, however hopeless their condition might have seemed to the world around them. Whatever question they had, they had an Answer. None of them were irredeemable, because they had a Redeemer. 

Revelation is not merely a revelation of future events, though it does reveal those. It is, fundamentally, a revelation of Jesus—of who and what He is. And He is the hope of the church. Even a church as hopeless as Laodicea had hope because of Jesus. And what Jesus was to Laodicea 2000 years ago, Jesus is still to the church today. He is still the rebuker of the church—His words and His Spirit still strives to awaken us and bring us to confront the truth. He is still the supplier; still the one who can meet the needs of the church. He is still the rewarder of them who diligently seek him, still with promises for those who overcome.

I said this letter is the most famous of the seven letters. And I think one part of that is because of verse 20, one of the most famous verses of the Bible and one which many people memorize, quite apart from its context. That was Jesus' message to the church at Laodicea. And I think it is still and, until the end, will always be Jesus' message to the church: “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.”