Hope for Life Blog

The ancient city of Laodicea had a water problem. The problem was there was no water. At least not in the city itself. There were hot springs 6 miles away near the town of Hierapolis. That water wasn’t drinkable and would lose its soothing warmth by the time it was taken to Laodicea. At about the same distance in the opposite direction, there were deliciously cool sources of water around Denizli. These waters would also lose their cool temperature when transported to Laodicea, resulting in an unpleasantly warm drink. The only water available to the Laodiceans was lukewarm at best.

When Jesus addressed the Christians of this city in the book of Revelation, he used an illustration they would understand: “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” (Revelation 3:15-16). The Greek word translated “spit” is more accurately translated “vomit.” It’s an unpleasant image for an unpleasant condition: Christians who have lost their passion, who have compromised their loyalty to Christ.

Unfortunately, the world has seen too many Christians just like this. Mahatma Gandhi said, “I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.” The agnostic Sheldon Vanuaken wrote,

The best argument for Christianity is Christians: their joy, their certainty, their completeness. But the strongest argument against Christianity is also Christians–when they are sombre and joyless, when they are self-righteous and smug in complacent consecration, when they are narrow and repressive, then Christianity dies a thousand deaths.

If you’re not a Christian and that’s the only Christianity you’ve seen, then I’d urge you to look again. There are Christians who have overcome this perpetual state of apathy. They know that Christianity isn’t just about showing up at church at certain times. It’s a way of life. As Vanuaken said, such Christians are the best argument for Christianity that exists.

If you are a Christian, but find that lukewarm describes your faith, let me encourage you to go back to the basics. Focus on Bible study and prayer. Find a church and make yourself an active part of it. Reconnect with God each week by participating in the Lord’s Supper.

Nobody likes lukewarm. Nobody wants to be lukewarm. And nobody wants Jesus to “spit them out.” If you need help rekindling your faith or don’t know where to find a church to be a part of, just leave a comment or contact us through this site.

I find the story of the ancient city of Sardis to be a fascinating one. At one time, it was one of the wealthiest cities in the world, ruled by a king named Croesus. There’s even an old proverb that talks about being as rich as Croesus.

The city was protected by a mountain fortress. When enemies attacked, the people of Sardis would flee to the fortress, with the steep rock face of the mountainside protecting them from all foes. With vigilant sentries guarding the walls, the fortress was impenetrable.

It was a different story, however, when those guards were asleep. After Croesus had unsuccessfully attacked the Persian army of Cyrus, he fled to his citadel to wait out the siege. Cyrus offered a reward to any of his men who could find a way to penetrate the fortress walls. One of the Persian soldiers saw a guard drop his helmet, climb down to retrieve it and climb back up. That night, the Persians used the same route to scale the mountain and attack the fortress. To their surprise, when they arrived at the top, all of the people of Sardis were asleep, including the soldiers. The conquest was swift and almost effortless.

In the New Testament, the people of Sardis were sent a message by Jesus: Wake up! “Remember, therefore, what you have received and heard; obey it, and repent. But if you do not wake up, I will come like a thief, and you will not know at what time I will come to you” (Revelation 3:3). The Christians there had become complacent and needed to be awakened.

I need that sometimes as well. My daily routine and the rhythm of the world around me lull me into a spiritual slumber. I begin to “go with the flow,” letting my circumstances dictate how I will feel and what I will do.

I need that spiritual alarm clock that cries “Wake up!”, reminding me that drifting my way through life can only lead to disaster. I have to consciously think about priorities, consciously plan to resist pressures to conform and actively choose to be a person of faith. If I don’t wake up, complacency will creep upon me by night, overwhelming my defenses and destroying all that I hold dear.

As the news of the day grows worse and worse, we need to shake ourselves from our siestas, remember the things that we have heard and obey them. It’s not just about knowing, it’s about doing.

What a mixed bag of emotions is Christmas in our society!

For some, it’s a time of giving and getting, a time to spend more money than should be spent to buy things that nobody really needs. For others, it’s a time of quiet religious reflection.

For some, Christmas is a special, family time, sharing precious hours with those that we care about. For others, it’s a time of loneliness and hurt.

For some, Christmas is a deeply significant time to remember the birth of Jesus and reflect on the meaning of his coming to earth. For others, it is merely another day, sharing space in the holiday season with Hanukkah and Kwanzaa and New Year’s Day.

For some, Christmas is a desperately needed time to sell goods and make one last bit of profit in a difficult year. For others, it’s a time to protest the religious misconceptions that abound in this celebration.

With sentiments like these vying with one another for the place of prominence in our thinking, it’s easy for us to feel more than a bit overwhelmed. If you’re feeling swept away, let me offer some ancient words of wisdom:

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you (Philippians 4:6-9).

In the maelstrom of emotion during this holiday season, let God surround you with his peace. Cast all of your worries on him and focus on the things that will truly bring you peace.

May there be peace on earth during these coming days and months, and may there be peace in your life.

To illustrate the mixed-up values of his day, Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard told a modern day parable about thieves who broke into a jewelry store at night. Instead of stealing anything, they merely switched the price tags, putting high-value tickets on costume jewelry and bargain tags on premium gems.

I find that to be a wonderful illustration of what Jesus said when he came. He looked at the world’s values and declared them to be upside down. All of the price tags were wrong. Greatness, he said, is to be found in service. Self-sacrifice is the only way to save one’s life. The first shall be last and the last shall be first. Statement after statement sought to change the priorities and preferences of mankind.

In Revelation chapter 2, we find this statement from Jesus to a group of Christians: “I know your afflictions and your poverty—yet you are rich!” (Revelation 2:9). Persecuted and oppressed because of their faith, these followers of Jesus had fallen on hard times financially. Yet Jesus could look at them and declare them rich.

Then Jesus turns to another group of believers and tells them: “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” (Revelation 3:17). Jesus doesn’t see things the way the world sees them. He knew that these wealthy Christians were destitute on the inside.

True riches are not measured with dollar signs. They can’t be found in storage units or warehouses. True wealth doesn’t rise and fall with the stock market. A man can have lots of money and plenty of possessions, yet be very poor indeed. We can’t trust the world’s judgment as to who is rich and who is poor. The price tags aren’t in the right place.

So what matters? Relationships. Our relationship with God and our relationship with other people. Money, health, youth, possessions … these are all temporary things that can be lost as quickly as they are gained. Being right with God is the only eternal thing. And we can’t be right with God if we aren’t right with the people around us.

Don’t trust in the tags that the world has put on the things around us. Only Jesus can tell us what is really of value. Only Jesus can make us rich in the ways that count.

In the New Testament, we read about a church that was very hard-working and careful to defend all the correct teachings. They were quick to expose those that tried to teach mistruths. They had maintained their faith during difficult times. They had done all of these things … yet Jesus told them that if they didn’t change, they could no longer be counted as one of his churches!

Jesus said this to the church in Ephesus: “Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken your first love” (Revelation 2:4). Just as married couples can lose the romance from their relationship, churches can lose their love. They begin to focus on ritual perfection and doctrinal hairsplitting, and they forget their reason for existence. They lose their first love. Instead of being an organism, Christ’s body, they become an organization. Rules, regulations, and rituals replace relationships. What gets lost along the way is the loving spirit Christians should have.

Jesus rejects empty rules and hollow rituals. That’s not how he envisioned the church, nor what he will allow his churches to be. The church must be a community of love, characterized by a fervent love of God and of fellow man. It is to be an accepting place, not accepting intentional error, but accepting imperfect people.

If you haven’t found the church to be this way, don’t give up! There are churches out there who remember their first love and continue to live it. There are Christians who work every day at becoming more like Jesus.

If you are a Christian but have forgotten what you are supposed to be about, it’s not too late. Jesus said to these Christians in Revelation 2: “Repent and do the things you did at first” (Revelation 2:5). We can go back to our first love, living out that love in our daily lives. We can replace empty ritual with a fulfilling life of love. We can return to being the body of Christ.

The church is an organism, not an organization. It is fueled by love, following the God that is love. We must never forget.

Late in his life, the apostle John finds himself in a prison of sorts, exiled to the island of Patmos. The island is tiny, only 25 square miles (64 square kilometers). It is a barren place where political prisoners are sent to contemplate their actions. John’s crime is a simple one: he is a follower of Jesus Christ.

There on Patmos, John has an impressive vision of Jesus, risen from the dead and standing triumphantly. Jesus shares with John a message of hope and encouragement for his followers that are about to suffer a time of persecution. This message, contained in the Book of Revelation, is couched in symbolic language, a style of writing commonly used at that time. While much of it seems strange to us, the symbols used in Revelation would have been familiar to the original readers.

John sees Jesus standing in the middle of seven golden lampstands, which Jesus later explains: “The seven lampstands are the seven churches” (Revelation 1:20). John then receives seven letters for seven churches in the Roman province of Asia, an area where the Roman emperor was about to make problems for the Christians. Jesus begins the first letter by saying: “These are the words of him who … walks among the seven golden lampstands” (Revelation 2:1).

The message of this image is as simple as it is important: when Jesus’ followers face difficult times, Jesus is there with them. He stands in the middle of his churches, not far from them. In each of the seven letters, Jesus uses the phrase “I know …” He knows what they’ve done, he knows their circumstances, he knows the enemies they face and the struggles they have. He writes to them as one who is infinitely familiar with every aspect of their lives. He walks among the lampstands.

None of that has changed. God knows you. He knows the good things you’ve done and the mistakes you’ve made. He knows the obstacles you’ve faced and what you’ve had to face them with. He knows your abilities and your possibilities even better than you do.

And he’s not far away. He’s nearby, waiting for you to turn to him and ask him for help. Whether you are facing persecution from the government or temptation from a co-worker, God wants to give you the strength to face whatever it is that threatens to pull you away from him. He’s close. He knows. And he cares.

Near the end of his life, the apostle John was exiled to the island of Patmos, sent there because of his faith in Jesus. While there, John received a vision. That vision contained a message for his fellow Christians who were also facing persecution. That vision is recorded in the book of Revelation.

In the first chapter of the book, John sees Jesus. Not baby Jesus in a manger or half-dead Jesus hanging on a cross. John sees a triumphant Jesus, dressed in shining white robes. This Jesus has something to say to his followers:

Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last. I am the Living One; I was dead, and behold I am alive for ever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades (Revelation 1:17-18).

To these Christians who faced the very real possibility of dying for their faith, Jesus says, “Don’t be scared. I’ve been there. And I’m back.” Then he tells them something important: he holds the keys of death and Hades.

Maybe I should explain that Hades in the Greek-speaking world didn’t refer to a place of punishment. It was merely the dwelling place of the dead. It was the great unknown, the mysterious place everyone went after leaving this world. Jesus says, “Don’t be afraid of death nor what comes after … I’ve got the keys to let you out of that place!”

Are you scared of death? You don’t have to be. In the book of Hebrews, the author says that Jesus destroyed the power of death by his own death so that he could “free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death” (Hebrews 2:15). We don’t have to live our lives fearing death. Jesus died, but he’s alive now. He went into the place of the dead and came out with the keys. We can enter that mysterious realm without fear, knowing that our Jesus holds the key to let us out again.

Jesus promised his disciples that he would build his church “and the gates of Hades will not overcome it” (Matthew 16:18). Those gates can’t hold us in because Jesus holds the key.

Don’t be afraid! Jesus is the resurrection and the life (John 11:25). He has freed us from the fear of death.

“Jesus wept.”

That verse, John 11:35, is the shortest verse in the English Bible (in the original Greek, 1 Thessalonians 5:17 is shorter). Two words. Three syllables. But that verse conveys a world of meaning.

“Jesus wept.”

Jesus was watching Mary and Martha, dear friends of his, weep for their brother. He knew that Lazarus would live again, that the moment of his resurrection was only moments away. But Jesus wept. Not for his own sadness. Not from any sense of despair. He wept at the grief of people he loved.

“Jesus wept.”

Mary and Martha knew that Jesus could have kept their brother from dying. They also knew that he hadn’t done so. They wanted to believe in him, yet he seemed to have failed them in their moment of need. Did his tears mean that their faith was misplaced, that he was actually powerless in the face of death?

“Jesus wept.”

Moments before, Jesus had shared a secret with Martha when he said, “I am the resurrection and the life” (John 11:25) He had also promised her that Lazarus would live again. Still, he wept upon seeing Martha and Mary’s tears.

“Jesus weeps.”

We face that same internal conflict. Sometimes it feels like God is far away when we are hurting. It can even feel like he doesn’t care. He could prevent all death and suffering, yet here we are, drowning in a sea of grief.

Let me tell you that Jesus still weeps. He still hurts. He grieves with us. He knows that death is not the end, that resurrection and life will soon triumph. Yet he sees our pain and weeps with us.

“Jesus weeps.”

God cares. I can’t explain every aspect of pain and suffering, but I want to assure you that God cares. And we Christians, as the body of Christ, also care. Your hurt is our hurt. Your pain is our pain. Those of us who seek to live as Jesus lived are called to weep alongside those who are grieving.

“Jesus weeps.”

God cares. Jesus weeps. And his church wants to stand by you in your time of need. No, Christians aren’t perfect, and we will sometimes let you down. But we have been called to imitate the man who wept at the pain of his friends.

There’s an old story about an elderly woman who was told by her physician that she probably wouldn’t live much longer. Soon there after, she called in her family to discuss her funeral arrangements. They talked about how the service would be, where she would be buried, what kind of casket would be used, etc. As the conversation was winding down, the woman remarked, “There’s one thing that’s very important: I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand.”

Her children were understandably puzzled by that remark, and one of them couldn’t contain his curiosity. “Mom,” he said, “what are you talking about?”

“I remember eating with my family when I was a young girl,” the woman began, “Each of us would help clear away the dishes. Every once in a while, mom would tell us, ‘Save your fork!’ We children knew what that meant. It meant that mom had fixed us a pie or a cake or some sort of treat. When she said ‘Save your fork!’, that meant the best was yet to come. So I want to be buried with a fork in my hand, for the best is yet to come!”

It’s a lovely story, a beautiful illustration of hope. In Spanish, the word “esperar” means “hope,” but it also means “wait.” You wait for a bus, and you hope it’s coming; the same word is used in both cases. It’s the same in the biblical languages. Our hope is built around the expectation of something that is to come.

The apostle Paul wrote to a group of new Christians in the city of Thessalonica, talking of the reputation these Christians had. He wrote “They tell how you turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God, and to wait for his Son from heaven.” (1 Thessalonians 1:9-10) That’s a beautiful description of a Christian’s life: turning away from an old life, serving God and waiting for Jesus to come back. We have hope because we are waiting for someone. He will bring us something wonderful, a life without pain or sadness.

We have hope because we know the best is yet to come. We have hope because we are waiting, waiting for our Lord to come back.

So save your fork!

They dragged the woman to the temple. Caught in the very act of adultery! Her cries for mercy went unheeded. This group wasn’t interested in compassion or justice. (Where was the man this woman had been with? The Law of Moses said that both were to be judged.) This woman was a pawn in a political game, a useful tool to trap this troublesome teacher named Jesus of Nazareth.

“Our law says this woman should be stoned. What do you say?” they asked Jesus with a sneer, throwing the woman at Jesus’ feet. Would this sinner-loving Nazarene dare to say that the Law should be ignored, that the woman should be set free? If he did, these Jewish leaders could immediately denounce his entire ministry as a fraud.

Or would Jesus dare to call for capital punishment, putting him at odds with Roman law which did not give the Jews the right to employ the death penalty? It was a perfect trap, and these men knew it.

Infuriatingly, Jesus refused to answer. Instead, he sat and wrote in the dirt with his finger. “Answer us! Answer the question,” the crowd insisted.

Finally Jesus, looked up, met their gaze, and said, “Fine. Stone her. But let the first stone be thrown by the one among you who has no sin.” With those words, the accusers became the accused. The trap they had set for Jesus had backfired. One by one, they slipped away, each very conscious of his own sin.

Jesus stood alone with the woman and asked, “Does no one condemn you?”

“No,” she answered quietly.

“Then I don’t condemn you either. Go and leave your life of sin.” ( John 8:1-11)

I wish Jesus were here today to stop me when I have a stone in my hand, to remind me that I am as much a sinner as anyone else. I wish he were here to stand up for those who are attacked and demeaned because of the mistakes they’ve made. I wish he were here to say, “Go ahead, label other people as sinners … as long as you’ve never made a mistake.”

Jesus’ followers need to stand up for those who have messed up, who have been caught red-handed in a sinful lifestyle. We need to say to them “Stop. Change. Leave your life of sin.” But we also need to say, “I’m a sinner too. I need God’s grace as much as you do.”

The church was meant to be a refuge, a gathering of sinners covered by grace, a collection of strugglers seeking to overcome sin. It’s not meant to be a rock-throwing society.

If you’ve had rocks hurled your way, please know that they were thrown without Jesus’ authorization. Come back. Try again. There are good people who are really trying to live like Jesus who will love you, accept you and help you to change. Jesus doesn’t want to condemn. He wants to save. His followers should feel the same.