Money, wealth, and material prosperity are neither inherently good nor inherently bad. If gained and used wisely, wealth is a very good thing. If gained and used foolishly, wealth can be devastating.
On the one hand, the Bible teaches that wealth can be a tremendous blessing from God. Proverbs often speaks of riches as gifts that accompany wisdom and diligence. Yet wealth can also deceive us. It can quietly take hold of our hearts and lead us away from the path of life into destruction. The process is usually so gradual that we hardly notice. Prosperity begins to give us the illusion of security and independence, and if we are not careful, we start trusting in our wealth more than we trust in the Lord. This temptation only grows stronger as our prosperity increases.
I remember visiting a small country church years ago. When you walked into the building, the foyer smelled strongly of rotten eggs, almost enough to make you gag. One sip from the drinking fountain did make me gag. Evidently, their water had a high level of sulfur.
What surprised me, however, was watching other people drink from the fountain without any trouble. They didn’t gag or wince. They took a sip and kept going, as if nothing were wrong. I didn’t hear anyone say a word about the taste or the smell.
After the service, I mentioned it to one of their deacons. I said, “You must have a sulfur problem.” He looked at me as if he had no idea what I was talking about. So I explained that I noticed the smell in the foyer and could taste it in the water. He replied, “Oh, that. It’s been like that for a long time. I don’t even notice anymore.”
That is precisely what had happened in the church of Laodicea. We might call it spiritual apathy. They had grown so comfortable in their material prosperity that they no longer realized how far they had drifted spiritually. On the outside, they appeared stable and successful. They thought everything was fine. But when Christ examined the church, he saw something very different.
Let’s consider what he says to them.
The Words of the Amen
Christ captures our attention from the start by declaring his identity: “These are the words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the beginning of God’s creation” (Revelation 3:14).
First, what does Jesus mean when he refers to himself as “the Amen”? There is far more to that word than meets the eye. It is not merely the traditional way to end a prayer. It is a word rich with meaning. In the book of Isaiah, Yahweh is called “the God of truth” (Isaiah 65:16). Literally, the phrase is “the God of Amen.”
God is the source of truth. He is the embodiment of truth. He is truth. When Governor Pilate rhetorically asked, “What is truth?” the answer is God. People spend their entire lives searching for meaning and truth. They debate philosophies, write books, and make movies about this search, yet the question remains: “What is truth?”
The answer is God. If we are to understand truth, the search begins and ends with the Alpha and the Omega, the Almighty God, the beginning and the end of all things, and certainly truth.
The Jews of the first century understood this about God, which made some of Jesus’ claims about himself shocking. For instance, he once declared that he is “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). He claimed to be the truth in the same way the Jews understood God to be the truth. So it is no small thing for Jesus to refer to himself as “the Amen.”
What is he saying by this? Consider how often Jesus began his statements with the words “Truly, truly.” He would say, “Truly, truly, I say to you” (John 3:3; 5:24). In other words, “What I am about to say is absolute truth.” He was not offering an opinion or speaking as a man prone to error. He was declaring the truth of God.
That is essentially what we mean when we say “Amen.” We are affirming the truth. We are saying, “That is God’s truth. That is the absolute truth.” When we “amen” a preacher, we are saying, “Yes, brother, that is truth. You have spoken rightly.”
Jesus is the affirmation of all that is true. He confirms it. He validates it. He is the final word, and that word is truth. Jesus is the validation of everything God has ever said and done. Therefore, he is also “the faithful and true witness” (Revelation 3:14). For a time, he was God’s witness on earth; now he is God’s witness in heaven.
Lastly, Christ identifies himself as “the beginning of God’s creation” (Revelation 3:14). This statement should not confuse us. Jesus is not suggesting that he was created by God. We know this because he inspired John, the same apostle who wrote the book of Revelation, to write these words in the opening of his Gospel:
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not anything made that was made. (John 1:1–3)
Jesus, the Word who became flesh and dwelt among us, is co-eternal with God the Father. The doctrine of the Trinity may not receive as much attention today as it once did, but it remains vital. It is a foundational truth of the Christian faith. As John reminds us, “All things were made through him” (John 1:3).
In other words, all of God’s creation began with Christ. It was through him that all things were made.
We could take this concept further and consider Christ’s role in salvation. Paul writes, “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation” (2 Corinthians 5:17). If you are in Christ, you are a new creation.
We could extend it even further and speak of Christ’s role in the consummation of all things. When we think about the end times, we look forward to a new heaven and a new earth, a new creation. We anticipate something beyond what we currently experience. And who makes that new creation possible? Jesus.
Before leaving this earth, he told his disciples, “I go and prepare a place for you” (John 14:3). In every sense, Jesus stands at the beginning of God’s creation. All things were created through him, and all things will be renewed through him.
That is someone worth listening to.
Neither Hot nor Cold
Now that he has their attention, Jesus says, “I know your works” (Revelation 3:15). In other words, “I know what you’ve done. I know what you haven’t done. I even know the motivations behind what you’ve done or haven’t done.” When we think of works, we typically think only of what we do, or perhaps what we fail to do. But Jesus implies more than that. “The Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7). He sees far deeper than we can see.
A lifetime of good works means nothing if the heart is far from God. Paul said of Israel, “They have a zeal for God, but not according to knowledge” (Romans 10:2). Jesus himself said, “In vain do they worship me” (Matthew 15:9). Yes, they worship him, but in vain.
So when Jesus refers to the works of the Laodiceans, he has in mind the totality of their faith and service—all of their works, all of their motivations, everything, not merely what they do or fail to do. He sees it all, and he knows that, in the case of the Laodiceans, “they are neither cold nor hot” (Revelation 3:15).
Every book of the Bible has historical context, and that is an important reminder here. All Scripture is breathed out by God, but he did not inspire the books of the Bible in a vacuum. He breathed out these sixty-six books through the personalities, experiences, and circumstances of the human authors, and he also addressed the circumstances of the original recipients.
In short, someone wrote each book to someone else for some reason. There is always historical context, and understanding that context helps us understand the message. That is especially true when we read Christ’s words to the church in Laodicea.
When we hear the phrase “hot or cold,” we often think of passion versus indifference, or perhaps good versus evil. But that cannot be what Jesus means. Notice what he says next: “Would that you were either cold or hot” (Revelation 3:15). In other words, “I want you to be cold or hot, but not lukewarm.”
If “hot” means passionate, then we would have to conclude that Jesus would rather we lack passion altogether than be only partially passionate. If “hot and cold” represent good and evil, then we would have to conclude that he would prefer us to be evil rather than somewhat good. That cannot be the meaning of the text.
The historical setting helps us understand his point. The city of Laodicea was not blessed with a good natural water supply. So the people built underground aqueducts to bring water from neighboring cities. Hot water was piped in from one location and used for medicinal purposes, while cold water was brought from another location and used for drinking.
The problem was that the water had to travel miles, sometimes six or ten miles, depending on the source. By the time the hot water arrived from the springs at Hierapolis or the cold water from the springs at Colossae, it had become lukewarm. Worse still, the pipes accumulated calcium deposits that could clog the system or contaminate the water. In many cases, the water became so unpleasant that it would actually induce vomiting.
In this context, both hot and cold water were good things. Each served a purpose. Hot water could be used for healing. Cold water provided refreshment. But the Laodiceans knew well that contaminated, lukewarm water was good for nothing. It was disgusting and could make a person sick.
In that sense, the church should be both hot and cold. We should be a source of refreshment, like a cold drink of water on a hot day. We should also be a source of healing. The issue here is not temperature, but distance from the source.
Jesus says, “Because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth” (Revelation 3:16). Lukewarmness leads to rejection. If you take a drink of that calcified, lukewarm water, you cannot help but spit it out or even vomit. You cannot stomach it. Neither can Jesus.
Put simply, hot is good, cold is good, but lukewarm is bad. Jesus is not presenting two opposite extremes from which we must choose. Both hot and cold are good for different purposes. On a hot day, we want a cold drink of water. When making coffee, tea, or taking a shower, we want hot water. Both are good, but each serves a different purpose.
When Jesus compares the spiritual condition of the Laodiceans to lukewarm water, he is not saying they are somewhere between good and bad. Rather, the problem is their distance from the source, which determines their usefulness.
As we continue, that point will become even clearer.
The Danger of Self-Reliance
There is something else we should know about the church in Laodicea: the city itself was extremely wealthy. It was a prosperous place. In AD 60, for example, a devastating earthquake struck the region. The Roman Empire offered financial assistance to help the affected cities rebuild. Laodicea declined the offer. They essentially said, “No, we don’t need your money.” They truly didn’t need it. They had the financial means to rebuild the city themselves.
With that background in mind, notice what Jesus says: “For you say, ‘I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing’” (Revelation 3:17). That is the problem.
We do not know all the ways this lukewarmness manifested itself in the Laodicean church. Jesus says, “I know your works,” but he does not describe them. He does not provide details about what they were doing or failing to do. For all we know, they may have appeared to be doing everything right on the surface. But something was wrong beneath the surface. Perhaps their motivations were off. Perhaps something essential was missing that could not easily be seen.
What we do know is that the root of the problem was self-reliance. Is self-reliance really a problem? In this context, the answer is absolutely yes. Jesus says to them, “For you say, ‘I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing,’ not realizing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked” (Revelation 3:17).
The trouble with self-reliance is that it is often accompanied by self-deception. We think we are self-sufficient when, in reality, we are in desperate need of help. The Laodiceans were rich and prosperous, so prosperous that they had come to believe they did not need anything from anyone, including God.
There is an irony here. They boldly say, “I don’t need anything. We’re fine. No outside help for us.” Yet the city itself lacked the most fundamental resource for survival: a reliable water supply. They had to pipe water in from other places. Still, they proudly claimed, “We need nothing.”
Imagine a similar scenario. You are out on a lake in a rusty old rowboat. It is not much to look at, but it floats. As you row along, you see a man treading water in the middle of the lake, miles from shore. He has no boat and no life preserver. So you call out, “Sir! Climb aboard!”
Instead of accepting the offer, he laughs and says, “I don’t need your help. Do you know I own a yacht worth half a million dollars? Why would I need your lousy rowboat?”
So you ask, “Where is your yacht?”
He replies, “It’s at the bottom of the lake. It sank just before you got here.”
It may sound like a silly illustration, but it is not far from the truth of where the Laodiceans stood. Self-reliance and self-deception often go hand in hand. They believed they were rich enough that they did not need anything. They were self-reliant to the point that they felt no need for outside help, even though they lacked one of the most essential necessities of life.
So Jesus’ response is entirely appropriate: “You are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked. And you don’t even realize it” (Revelation 3:17).
To be clear, this message to the Laodiceans is not really about water. The real issue is that these people had become more reliant on themselves than on Christ. They should have been a source of healing and refreshment, but they were not. Why? Because they had become too far removed from the true source of healing and refreshment—Jesus Christ.
Just as they were distant from the source of their water, they had become distant from the source of everything good and necessary.
By now, it should be clear that the problem here is not merely a lack of passion or zeal, as we often think of lukewarmness. The problem runs much deeper. In many respects, they shared the spirit of the Pharisees, who rejected God’s Messiah because they did not believe they needed a Savior.
The Pharisees believed they were righteous enough to merit God’s favor. But the situation in Laodicea is even more troubling. These people had evidently accepted Christ. They belonged to a Christian church. Yet they had become so self-reliant that they lost their dependence on Christ.
The Subtle Danger of Earthly Security
Jesus says,
I counsel you to buy from me gold refined by fire, so that you may be rich, and white garments so that you may clothe yourself and the shame of your nakedness may not be seen, and salve to anoint your eyes, so that you may see. (Revelation 3:18)
I’ve already mentioned the Laodiceans’ wealth, but there were a couple of other things the city was well known for at the time. Laodicea had a thriving textile industry. They produced high-quality wool fabric that was exported widely, and they were especially famous for their black wool. The city was also known for training physicians who specialized in eye care.
The Laodiceans were rich, yet Jesus says, “I counsel you to buy from me gold refined by fire so that you may be rich.” In other words, he denies their claim to wealth. They produced beautiful black wool, yet Jesus says, “You need white garments from me so that you may clothe yourself and the shame of your nakedness may not be seen.” The Laodiceans had a reputation for eye care, yet Jesus says, “You need my salve to anoint your eyes so that you may see.”
Christ is chipping away at every last thing that gave this church a false sense of security. He addresses every source of confidence that caused them to drift away from the only true source of security—himself.
I don’t know exactly how this problem manifested itself in the Laodicean church. I don’t know what it looked like on the outside. My suspicion is that it was very subtle. Notice that Jesus does not condemn them for blatant sins, unlike his rebukes of other churches. He does not accuse them of tolerating heretics or false doctrines.
At the same time, he does not commend them for anything. He has no positive word to say about this church. That likely means the problem is not only subtle but deadly serious. There is no time for niceties. Jesus goes straight to the issue, not the symptoms, but the root problem.
“You have great material wealth, but you’re poor. You have some of the finest garments, but you’re naked. You have salve that can heal the eyes, but you’re blind” (Revelation 3:17–18). Everything in which they placed their trust was, in reality, worthless.
Have you considered that these things could be gone tomorrow? All of them could be taken away in an instant. Where would your faith be then?
Do you remember the parable of the sower? Jesus says, “As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the word, and it proves unfruitful” (Matthew 13:22).
Material wealth is hardly fertile ground for the Word of God. The Bible repeats this warning again and again.
To be clear, Scripture never outright denounces wealth. But contrary to what prosperity preachers claim—that if only we are faithful enough, we will all be healthy and wealthy—the Bible repeatedly warns us about the dangers that come with wealth. The more comfortable we become, the more complacent we become. The more we have, the more we trust in what we have. The more we rely on what we possess.
Once we have lived comfortably long enough, we begin to lose sight of the fact that all these material things, our wealth and possessions, are fleeting. They are temporary. They are corruptible. They can all be lost. Worse yet, our dependency on God and his grace can slowly fade along the way.
“The deceitfulness of riches choke the word, and it proves unfruitful” (Matthew 13:22).
Just as you cannot become a Christian without surrendering any notion of self-reliance and throwing yourself entirely on the mercy of God, you cannot continue to walk with God if you lose your dependency on him and begin to trust in yourself and in your material comforts instead.
Do you see how relevant this letter is to first-world Christians?
Is it a blessing or a curse to be rich? Is it a blessing or a curse to have nice clothing? Is it a blessing or a curse to have access to the greatest medical care the world has ever known?
The answer is not black and white.
Personally, I believe these things are blessings, but they can quickly become a curse if we are not careful.
Paul offers helpful perspective in 1 Corinthians 7:
From now on, let those who have wives live as though they had none, and those who mourn as though they were not mourning, and those who rejoice as though they were not rejoicing, and those who buy as though they had no goods, and those who deal with the world as though they had no dealings with it. For the present form of this world is passing away. (1 Corinthians 7:29–31)
Paul is addressing more than material goods in that passage, but the principle is helpful. He is not suggesting we deny reality. If you are married, you are married. If you are mourning, you are mourning. He is not telling us to ignore those realities. Rather, he calls us to hold whatever we have in this world loosely, because it will not last forever. We cannot keep it forever.
The problem is not that we are rich. The problem arises when we care too much about our riches, invest too much in them, or let them stand in the way of our dependence on Christ.
Also, remember this problem is subtle. The thorns do not choke out the word overnight. But the danger is real. This warning is for us. It is a very real and extremely dangerous issue.
Loving Reproof and Discipline
Jesus says, “Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline, so be zealous and repent” (Revelation 3:19).
What if Christ were to stand in our own church on Sunday and say to us what he said to the Laodiceans? Would we think his words were too harsh?
We shouldn’t, because he speaks out of love. “Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline.” That is the language of sonship. Like a father speaking to his children, Jesus corrects the Laodicean church as his children.
Hebrews 12 reminds us, “God is treating you as sons. For what son is there whom his father does not discipline? If you are left without discipline, in which all have participated, then you are illegitimate children and not sons” (Hebrews 12:7–8). Christ speaks harshly to the Laodiceans because he loves them. He disciplines those he loves.
A couple of years ago, a woman asked me to preach at her grandmother’s funeral. She said, “I have a lot of unbelievers in my family, so I would like you to preach hellfire and brimstone if you think it’s necessary.” I was taken aback because most people tell me to avoid that kind of thing, especially at a funeral.
So I asked her, “Why hellfire and brimstone?” I appreciated her answer.
She said, “Because I love my family that much. If you have to step on their toes before they’ll turn to Christ, you step as hard as you think is necessary.”
It hurts to hear that we are wretched, poor, pitiable, blind, and naked. Those words sting, and it is often difficult to say them to someone else. Yet sometimes that is the most loving thing to say. Love demands truth always, even when the truth is difficult.
Christ Outside the Door
Next, Jesus says, “Behold, 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” (Revelation 3:20).
“Behold” is a word in Scripture that calls us to brace ourselves. It often introduces something surprising, and this revelation is particularly jarring. Jesus says, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock.”
Perhaps we have heard this verse so many times that it no longer seems shocking, but consider the context. Jesus is speaking to a Christian church that meets every week in his name. He is speaking to a church that regularly gathers around a table to share the Lord’s Supper.
Have you ever had the feeling that you have forgotten something? It often happens when you leave the house and get in the car. You cannot quite identify it, but something is missing. Imagine sitting down with your church to share the Lord’s Supper. The hymnbooks are there, the Bibles are open, the pastor is present, the bread and wine are on the table. Then you hear a knock at the door. Everyone looks around and says, “Who could that be? Isn’t everyone here? Don’t we have everything we need?” And that is when you realize someone is missing.
Christ. Christ is not there.
That is what makes this revelation so shocking. “Behold,” Jesus says, “I’m not in the church.” Without realizing it, they had slowly pushed him out the door. He is standing outside. “Behold, I stand at the door and knock.”
It brings to mind the Jewish practice of “unsynagoguing” someone—banishing them from the synagogue. Jesus himself was “unsynagogued” in places like Nazareth during his ministry. Without realizing it, the Laodiceans had effectively “unchurched” Jesus. They were meeting together in his name to worship him, yet according to Christ, he was not there. He was standing outside, waiting for someone to open the door.
It raises a sobering question. How many churches in this nation of prosperity, wealth, and material comfort are still meeting week after week in the name of Christ, claiming to worship Christ, while he stands outside the door? They are too comfortable to notice. He is knocking, but they do not hear. They are too self-satisfied to realize that he is missing.
Do you see the subtlety? More importantly, do you see the danger?
Paul writes, “Examine yourselves, to see whether you are in the faith. Test yourselves. Or do you not realize this about yourselves, that Jesus Christ is in you? Unless indeed you fail to meet the test” (2 Corinthians 13:5).
Jesus then says, “The one who conquers, I will grant him to sit with me on my throne, as I also conquered and sat down with my Father on his throne” (Revelation 3:21).
That is a remarkable promise. Those who persevere in faith—those who turn from self-reliance and cling to Christ—will share in his victory and his kingdom. Just as Christ overcame and now reigns with the Father, so those who belong to him will one day share in his reign.
Some may hear this passage and recognize something of themselves in it. Life may appear stable and comfortable on the outside. You may even attend church regularly. But comfort plus religion can easily create the illusion that everything is fine between God and us when, in reality, Christ is not truly the Lord of your life.
That was the tragedy of the Laodiceans. They believed they needed nothing, yet Jesus said they were “wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked” (Revelation 3:17). They possessed everything the world values while lacking the one thing they truly needed.
Only Christ can give us what we lack. He alone provides the riches, righteousness, and spiritual sight we cannot obtain for ourselves. If you recognize that you have been relying on yourself rather than on Christ, hear his invitation. Turn from that self-reliance and come to him in repentance and faith. He gives freely what we cannot provide for ourselves—namely, salvation from our sins.
I will leave you with his words: “He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches” (Revelation 3:22).
