A Lord's Day Message for Sunday, March 6, 2011

(© by Rev. Larry A. Langer, First Presbyterian Church, Jasper, IN, March 6, 2011)

“7 Churches: Brickbats and Bouquets”

“7. God’s Message to Laodicea: The Delusion of Self-Sufficiency; the Solution of Christ-Sufficiency”

Revelation 3:14-22 and Luke 16:19-31

“For you say, ‘I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing.’ You do not realize that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind and naked.” (Revelation 3:17)

And Jesus said, “Ptui!”

We preachers are encouraged to begin our sermons with a vivid, attention-grabbing illustration. I know of none more attention-getting than, “And Jesus said, “Ptui! I know your works; you are neither hot nor cold. So, because you are lukewarm and neither hot nor cold, I am about to spit you out of my mouth. For you say, ‘I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing.’ You do not realize that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind and naked. Ptui!”

Lest you think I exaggerate Jesus’ words here, rest assured this is exactly what he meant: “Ptui.”

As we know from Jesus’ teachings while he was on earth and from his letters to the other 6 churches to which he had letters written, Jesus uses common, everyday illustrations to make his point. The “Ptui” is no exception.

The physical problem that the town of Laodicea had was that they had absolutely lousy water. They didn’t have any wells of their own, either by choice or necessity, but they had built an aqueduct six miles long to bring water in from the town of Hierapolis. The water came either from hot springs and was cooled to lukewarm or came from a cool source and warmed up in the aqueduct on the way.[1] My guess is that especially if it came from the hot springs is that it had a very high sulfur content and smelled and tasted like rotten eggs. We can imagine what it would be like to smell and taste tepid, rotten egg water. (And we think it is bad when Patoka Lake turns over!) Ptui!

Do you think this example would get the attention of the members of the LCC, the Laodicea Christian Church? Something had to, and this was the strongest example Jesus could use. If we look back at the other six churches Jesus had John write to, no letter was as strong as this.

To the church at Ephesus, the letter was about returning to their first love. To the church at Smyrna, the letter spoke of being spiritually rich in their economic poverty and standing firm in their trials. To the church of Pergamum, the letter was about expelling those in the church who were falsely teaching heresy. To the church at Thyatira, the letter was about expelling from the church “a Jezebel” who had been teaching satanic stuff. To the church at Sardis, the letter was about waking up and being an alive church once again. To the church at Philadelphia, the letter was about going out through the “open door” that God had given them and evangelizing in the name of Jesus.

As direct as these letters were, none was as harsh as being compared to the tepid, stinking water that would cause a person to vomit, that they were forced to drink. Why would Jesus dictate such a letter to church people? Listen to this:

These Christians have become lukewarm because they perceived virtues within themselves, and because of that confident self-understanding, they were blinded to the steady deterioration that had already turned them into hollow shells reaching out to hollow shells. Here is the tragedy of a person who has gone soft and indolent by overestimating his or her wealth far too long. It is the person who has always intended to get started and was certain that time was on his or her mind. . . What we have in this poetic description is the raw material of human decadence and the tragedy of adriftedness. It is like the inner deception of the chemical assault on the brain, so that by imperceptible inches a man or woman is robbed of a clear mind and vigorous imagination, while all the time self-assured that cocaine or marijuana or alcohol was enhancing perception, feeling and well-being.[2]

Basically, they had been deluding themselves that all was well – and it was physically and financially. They had everything money could buy. They were a wealthy church in a wealthy town. Interestingly, while they had terrible water, they were located in a fertile valley. (Were they too lazy to dig their own well?) Laodicea was an important town for trade and communication. The great Roman road ran through it from Ephesus on the coast to inland Asia to the east. They produced a famous, glossy, black wool – whether dyed or natural in color. They had a famous school of medicine and developed special eye and ear ointment. They had a market place where all sorts of goods from all over were traded and sold. The city’s banking assets were so large that Cicero (a Roman philosopher, statesman, lawyer, political theorist and Roman constitutionalist, who came from a wealthy family) used to cash his huge bank drafts there. The town was so wealthy that after the earthquake of A.D. 17, they refused physical and financial bailout money from Rome to rebuild, saying instead, “We can do it ourselves.”[3] Therein lay the problem: They were too much into themselves. They were quite content, thank you, just “going along to get along.” The church was like the town: Just going along to get along.

One commentator notes “that Laodicea is difficult to describe because no one thing stands out. There were no excesses or notable achievements to describe it. It was a city with a people who had learned to compromise and accommodate themselves to the needs and wishes of others.[4] They did not zealously stand for anything.[5]

This is what displeased the Lord so much and caused him to say “Ptui!” And, the Lord’s verdict is the exact opposite of the Laodicean church’s evaluation of themselves. But, “they were useless to Jesus because they were complacent, self-satisfied, and indifferent to the real issues of faith in Christ and of discipleship.”[6]

So, Jesus reduces his plea to the LCC to three words the members could understand: “Buy from me…buy from me.” Remember that Laodicea had an international marketplace where a person could buy anything they wanted from goods produced locally to good brought in from afar. Jesus put his faith in himself and discipleship into this context, put faith in himself and discipleship “up for sale,” if we will.

(You know, it saddens me greatly that Jesus seemingly has to reduce what is so valuable, so pure, so special, down to what the people can comprehend and understand. But he does this all the time, doesn’t he?)

Gold, a source of the wealthy of the city, was to be bought from Christ and to become the spiritually poverty-strickened’s true wealth. Their shameful nakedness was to be clothed, not by purchasing the sleek, black wool of Laodicea, but by buying from Christ the white clothing that alone can cover shameful nakedness. For those who were blind to their true condition, the “Phrygian powder” was useless. They needed to buy salve from Christ so that they could truly see.[7]

These three “products” that the members of the LCC needed to “buy” with the currency of their souls were all “ingredients” of what would be a true salvation for their souls.

To adapt for our days what another writer has said about those days,

the only cure for spiritually poverty-stricken disciples is to purchase from Christ gold which is refined in the agonies of the shared passion. For our nakedness the only recourse is to buy such clothes as the naked Christ had worn on the cross. The blindness of self-deception can be cured only by understanding the correlation between Christ’s love and his discipline. These three purchases constitute a substantial definition of the kind of zeal and repentance which is the burned of all John’s prophecies in the letters dictated through him. The thrust of these commands moves in the direction of rigorous warning. They are tantamount to saying, “Open your eyes” and “Carry your cross.”[8]

Again, these three “products” all point to our need of authentic salvation through Christ.[9]

Have we taken stock of the condition of our faith lately? Do we have enough of Jesus’ refined gold? Does the white robe that only Jesus can offer still fit and is it still clean, white, and pure? Are our eyes open to seeing our true, earthly condition: Wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked, who but for Jesus’ love for us are as condemned to Hades as was the one we read about from Luke’s gospel today?

You may say, “But, Pastor, don’t speak of us this way. We aren’t like those we see on the news in the slums of India or the refugee camps of Egypt or in the bombed-out villages of Libya. We live in Jasper, America.

Ah, yes, we do, so how is our spiritual condition? Is it pure with Christ? Do we wear it so others can tell? Do we see areas we need more spirituality and more faith? How can we become better disciples of Jesus, rather than just hearing the same stuff over again, only in a little different way?

Jesus' invitation to the Laodiceans is his invitation to us who seek spiritual food along with all our physical and mental blessings. “It is an invitation to the most important, main meal of the day. It is the meal to which one would dine with one’s most intimate, closest of friends.”[10] This wasn’t a quick lunch at McDonalds or Subway or even Shoney’s. Picture in your mind’s eye where you would go for a peaceful, long-lasting, well-attended to, scrumptious meal with the one you love or with your most intimate friends. This is the invitation Jesus is offering. His invitation reads:

“Behold, I stand at the door and Knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and dine with them and they with me.”

You know, I don’t know the condition of your souls. It isn’t for me to judge or even guess. I can really only judge mine, and I know that my soul gets awfully hungry for Jesus. I know I could stand Christ’s meal every Sunday. I know I will get hungry for him during Lent when we fast from his meal. I know I need other spiritual things to feed upon during Lent to feel Jesus’ presence with me. So, would we, first of all, really savor this meal we are having today and the one we will have Wednesday evening, then each of us make a solemn promise to the Lord that we will seek to become so much more rich in our souls over the next weeks of Lent, until we feast with Jesus again on Maundy Thursday?

Jesus said, “I counsel you to buy from me gold refined by fire so that you may be rich; and white robes to clothe you and to keep the shame of your nakedness from being seen; and salve to anoint your eyes so that you may see.”

Let our next hymn be our response to Jesus’ invitation:

Open my eyes that I may see

Glimpses of truth Thou hast for me.

Place in my hand that wonderful key

That shall unclasp and set me free.

Silently now, I wait for Thee

Ready my God, Thy will to see.

Open my eyes, illumine me, Spirit divine.

Open my ears and let me hear

Voices of truth Thou sendest clear;

And while the wave notes fall on my ears,

Everything false will disappear.

Silently now, I wait for Thee

Ready my God, Thy will to see.

Open my ears, illumine me, Spirit divine.

Open my mouth and let me bear

Gladly the warm truth everywhere;

Open my heart and let me prepare

Love with Thy children thus to share.

Silently now, I wait for Thee

Ready my God, Thy will to see.

Open my heart, illumine me, Spirit divine.

(Public Domain)

Amen.

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[1] Alan Johnson, Revelation, (The Expositor’s Bible Commentary. Frank, Gaebelein, Gen. Ed: Zondervin Publishing House, Grand Rapids, MI, 1981). P. 457

[2] Earl Palmer, Revelation, (The Communicator’s Commentary, Lloyd J. Oglivie, Gen. Ed.: Word Publishing Co., Waco, TX, 1982). P. 154

[3] Johnson, op. cit., p. 456

[4] Johnson, op. cit., p. 456, quoting Ramsay, Seven Churches, p. 417

[5] Johnson, ibid.

[6] Johnson, ibid, p. 457

[7] Johnson, ibid, p. 458

[8] Minear, I Saw a New Earth, p. 57, as quoted by Johnson, op.cit., p. 459

[9] Johnson, op.cit., p. 459

[10] Johnson, ibid., p. 459