Lukewarm Christians

If you’d rather listen than read, you can find this TFG on Spotify or Apple Podcasts

So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth. 
-Revelation 3:16 (to the church in Laodicea)​

One of the most famous New Testament images came to my mind again recently. If you’ve been around the church or the Bible for a while, there’s a good chance you’ve seen this passage or heard the phrase “lukewarm faith” a few times. 

My understanding of this changed last year, and it seems relevant today. 

The above verse was written to one of the seven churches in the Book of Revelation by the Apostle John when he was exiled on a Greek island off the coast of Turkey, after he had been traveling through the area for years. It was written to the local church in the city of Laodicea. 

Last May I stood in the middle of the ruins of Laodicea with Bethany. You could feel the desert-like aridness of this plateau in eastern Turkey. We were in a New Testament hotspot: just 6 miles away to the north we could still make out the white mineral deposits of the hot springs of Hierapolis (Colossians 4:13). We had just walked through them an hour ago, marveling at the ancient ruins and the otherworldly blue mineral water that formed terraces of white stone around the pools, still to this day. Cleopatra used to visit the pools to soak in them. The hot mineral springs were said to have healing properties. This location was famous across the ancient world. 


Then I turned to my right and looked east. And less than 10 miles away, I could see the snowy peak of Mount Cadmus. The unexcavated town of Colossae was at the base of that mountain (yep, you guessed it—the Colossians lived here). The Colossians got their water from the cold snowmelt coming off the mountain. 

But Laodicea didn’t. In fact, they didn’t have a water source for miles. But rather than relocating, they built an incredible aqueduct system that piped water to the town. They did this because they were super wealthy, so they had the money to do so. We could still see the 2000-year-old clay pipes, and it was truly extraordinary. Their wealth was so great, in fact, that when they had an earthquake in 60 AD (just a few decades before Revelation was written), they actually rejected funds from Emperor Nero and took care of rebuilding the town themselves, taking pride in how they didn’t need any outside help. 

The challenge, though, is that archaeologists have taken apart a bunch of those pipes. And they are full of buildup of hard minerals. When the water got there, it was pretty gross for drinking. The kind of local water that would make people wish they could buy a $3.50 bottle of Dasani. 

So that’s the setting. I’m standing within view of a hot spring on one side and a mountain stream on the other, just like the Apostle John had. And I’m thinking about him writing this critique to the rich, lukewarm church here in Laodicea.

Common interpretation of the hot or cold passage is almost always about passion: to be lukewarm was to be a Christian who wasn’t “on fire for Christ.” It would be better if you didn’t have any faith at all (cold) than to be lukewarm. So you need to get your passion back! 

That’s putting a completely modern take on a very different ancient image. 

Hierapolis was a place whose hot running water brought healing to sick bodies when they soaked in it. Colossae was a place whose cold running water was refreshing and life-giving to all who drank. And Laodicea was a place that relied on riches and self-sufficiency…. and their water neither healed nor refreshed. Their faith had become like that, too. 

The critique of the church in Laodicea wasn’t that they didn’t have passion. It’s that they weren’t actually helping anyone.  

A faith that doesn’t actually bring goodness to the surrounding community is a faith that is not worth taking in. Going to church week in and week out, without being moved by God to become a source of goodness toward your neighbors is a faith that has lost its purpose. Putting your energy into a set of mental beliefs, if it doesn’t lead you to use your hands to care for your neighbors, will never quench your thirst or make you whole. 

The next verse, in 3:17, is this: ”You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked.”

If our churches use our wealth simply to have a nice spiritual system and be easily self-sufficient, we’re actually not well off at al. We’re living in spiritual poverty. If our Christianity doesn’t lead to helping people, we’re blind and naked. 

If you are concerned about becoming a lukewarm Christian, the answer is not to sing louder in a church service (nothing wrong with that, though). It’s to invite Jesus to help you live in a way that brings healing and life to those around you. The world needs our healing presence, and the world needs our life-giving, energizing love. Both emerge from churches centered on living water, coming from Jesus. Not in word, but in action. 

All around us are images of a (wealthy) Christianity that seems to be very passionate these days, but could hardly be seen as a help to others in their region. In some cases, they are the ones harming their neighbors. That movement is a source of unhealthy, gross water.

If you’re standing in the middle of an arid Hierapolis in your own life today, what might it look like to walk back toward where good water is flowing once again, through acts of love and service? This is not a works-based faith. This is a faith that is so deeply rooted in love for Jesus that it cannot be separated from love for our neighbor, just as Jesus taught us. 

Today, may your faith be hot and cold. May your kindness bring healing to hurting souls and bodies. May your love be a refreshing glimpse into what is still possible in our world. And in your own life, may the calcified places in your soul get chipped off and swept away by the living water of God’s spirit.

Jesus, form our faith so that it truly benefits a hurting and thirsty world. 

Peace,
Keith

---