Lukewarm Living
Revelation 3:15–16
I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, I am about to spit you out of my mouth.
Laodicea was one of the most impressive cities in the ancient world. It had wealth, beauty, and prestige. Its people were proud of their independence and known for their sophistication. They had what many would have considered a blessed life, yet when Jesus looked at them, He saw something tragic. They were not rebellious, immoral, or outwardly corrupt. They were simply comfortable. Their faith had cooled to room temperature. What once burned bright now flickered dimly. They were no longer hostile to God, but they were no longer hungry for Him either.
The geography of their city was a prophetic mirror. Laodicea had two neighboring water sources: the hot mineral springs of Hierapolis and the cold mountain streams of Colossae. Both were useful, but by the time the water reached Laodicea, it had become tepid. The very thing that once healed or refreshed now made people nauseous. In the same way, our faith becomes lukewarm when it loses its purpose. Hot water heals. Cold water refreshes. Lukewarm water helps no one. And that is what Jesus was saying to the church: your life is no longer useful for what I created you to do.
Lukewarm faith is not the absence of belief. It is the absence of urgency. It’s what happens when we stop pursuing God with the same passion we once had, when worship becomes casual and conviction feels optional. It creeps in slowly, often disguised as stability or success. The Laodicean church didn’t wake up one morning indifferent. They drifted there, one compromise at a time, until they were content with what used to convict them. But God never calls His people to survive spiritually. He calls us to shine, to serve, to bring life to those around us.
If your faith feels flat, that’s not failure. It’s an invitation. God would rather stir you up than spit you out. He is not finished with you. He wants to reignite what comfort has cooled, to awaken what apathy has silenced. When you allow His Spirit to move through you, you will once again become healing to the hurting and refreshing to the weary.
Prayer:
Father, I don’t want to live a lukewarm life. If I’ve drifted into comfort, awaken me again. Set my heart on fire for what matters to You. Make my life useful in Your hands, refreshing to those who are weary and healing to those who are broken. Help me never to settle for less than Your presence. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, I am about to spit you out of my mouth.
Laodicea was one of the most impressive cities in the ancient world. It had wealth, beauty, and prestige. Its people were proud of their independence and known for their sophistication. They had what many would have considered a blessed life, yet when Jesus looked at them, He saw something tragic. They were not rebellious, immoral, or outwardly corrupt. They were simply comfortable. Their faith had cooled to room temperature. What once burned bright now flickered dimly. They were no longer hostile to God, but they were no longer hungry for Him either.
The geography of their city was a prophetic mirror. Laodicea had two neighboring water sources: the hot mineral springs of Hierapolis and the cold mountain streams of Colossae. Both were useful, but by the time the water reached Laodicea, it had become tepid. The very thing that once healed or refreshed now made people nauseous. In the same way, our faith becomes lukewarm when it loses its purpose. Hot water heals. Cold water refreshes. Lukewarm water helps no one. And that is what Jesus was saying to the church: your life is no longer useful for what I created you to do.
Lukewarm faith is not the absence of belief. It is the absence of urgency. It’s what happens when we stop pursuing God with the same passion we once had, when worship becomes casual and conviction feels optional. It creeps in slowly, often disguised as stability or success. The Laodicean church didn’t wake up one morning indifferent. They drifted there, one compromise at a time, until they were content with what used to convict them. But God never calls His people to survive spiritually. He calls us to shine, to serve, to bring life to those around us.
If your faith feels flat, that’s not failure. It’s an invitation. God would rather stir you up than spit you out. He is not finished with you. He wants to reignite what comfort has cooled, to awaken what apathy has silenced. When you allow His Spirit to move through you, you will once again become healing to the hurting and refreshing to the weary.
Prayer:
Father, I don’t want to live a lukewarm life. If I’ve drifted into comfort, awaken me again. Set my heart on fire for what matters to You. Make my life useful in Your hands, refreshing to those who are weary and healing to those who are broken. Help me never to settle for less than Your presence. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
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