7 “And to the angel of the church in Philadelphia write: ‘The words of the holy one, the true one, who has the key of David, who opens and no one will shut, who shuts and no one opens. 8 “ ‘I know your works. Behold, I have set before you an open door, which no one is able to shut. I know that you have but little power, and yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name. 9 Behold, I will make those of the synagogue of Satan who say that they are Jews and are not, but lie—behold, I will make them come and bow down before your feet, and they will learn that I have loved you. 10 Because you have kept my word about patient endurance, I will keep you from the hour of trial that is coming on the whole world, to try those who dwell on the earth. 11 I am coming soon. Hold fast what you have, so that no one may seize your crown. 12 The one who conquers, I will make him a pillar in the temple of my God. Never shall he go out of it, and I will write on him the name of my God, and the name of the city of my God, the new Jerusalem, which comes down from my God out of heaven, and my own new name. 13 He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.’
14 “And to the angel of the church in Laodicea write: ‘The words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the beginning of God’s creation. 15 “ ‘I know your works: you are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were either cold or hot! 16 So, because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth. 17 For you say, I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing, not realizing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked. 18 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. 19 Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline, so be zealous and repent. 20 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. 21 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. 22 He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.’ ”
The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2025), Re 3:7–22.
We find ourselves in a season where the Church often feels paralyzed, locked in a metaphorical prison of our own making. Whether it is the iron bars of cultural pressure, the shackles of internal division, or the stifling walls of spiritual lethargy, we feel restricted and unable to do what we want, and powerless to do what we ought. We are stuck, and in this confinement, we are desperate for hope. It is precisely here, in the shadow of restriction, that we must look to the Apostle John. Exiled on the barren, rocky island of Patmos, John was physically imprisoned, cut off from his community and his work. Yet, it was in this place of isolation that heaven didn’t send a message in a bottle, but rather it broke in with a visitation. God did not merely send John information to study, but he was sent a Person to see, as the veil revealed that Christ is not a distant auditor checking boxes from afar, but is alive and active, walking among the churches. To understand the hope we have in our own prison, we must understand that Christ is the anchor of our hope as the One who walks among us is also the One who sees through us and knows us, and even with all of that Christ still stands for us.
That look at the churches ultimately transforms into a simple phrase that Jesus repeats with precision, “I know.” When He speaks this to the churches, He is not merely indicating he is aware of their calendar of activities, but He opens up a covenant lawsuit. The risen Christ, standing as both King and Judge, issues a verdict on their faith, love, endurance, and obedience. Jesus pushes away the public relations and the reputation to reveal the true spiritual state of His people, because public perception means nothing, and reality is everything. We see this vividly when we look at the disparity between how the world saw these seven churches and how Jesus saw them. In Ephesus, though they had impressive doctrine, Jesus saw their love had cooled into heartless orthodoxy. While in Smyrna, they were afflicted and poor, but Christ viewed them as truly rich. The church in Pergamum displayed courage in the face of hostility; however, Jesus still indicted them for being compromised in holiness. Thyatira’s Christians were growing in service and love, but had a dangerous tolerance for internal corruption. While Sardis had a famous reputation for being full of life, but yet God pronounced them dead.
Nowhere is the contrast between worldly metrics and divine reality sharper than in the letter to Philadelphia. Here was a church situated in a frontier city, a missionary crossroads that had been literally shaken by earthquakes and plagued by civic instability. To the naked eye, they appeared fragile, a community possessing little to no power. However, Jesus introduces Himself to them not merely as an observer, but as “the Holy One, the True One, who has the key of David.” He reminds them that He alone controls access, opportunity, and final vindication. They kept His word despite their apparent weakness, He offered them three staggering promises. First, He sets before them an open door, which is a missional opportunity that no human force can shut, granted not to the impressive, but to the faithful. Second, He promises a great reversal, assuring them that their opponents will one day be forced to acknowledge that this overlooked community is the one beloved by the Lord. And finally, to a people living in a city terrified of the ground shaking beneath them, He promises they will be a pillar in the temple of my God, the embodiment of immovable, unshakable security. We see in Philadelphia that a church with little power but great faithfulness can carry enormous kingdom weight.
In stark contrast stands Laodicea, a warning against the danger of comfortable uselessness. This city was wealthy and self-sufficient, but its water supply was its fatal flaw. While nearby Hierapolis boasted hot healing springs and Colossae offered cold, refreshing mountain water, Laodicea had to pipe its water in. By the time it arrived, it was lukewarm and nauseating—good for nothing but to be spit out. When Christ calls them “lukewarm,” it isn’t a rebuke about a lack of emotional heat or spiritual zeal; rather Jesus rebukes their lack of usefulness. They were neither healing like the hot springs nor refreshing like the cold water. They had succumbed to the ultimate self-deception, declaring, “I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing.” When Christ strips away their bank accounts to reveal that they are “wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked”. To this self-reliant people, He offers three specific remedies: exchange material security for a faith purified by trial, lay aside self-made status and embrace righteousness that covers their shame, and confess their spiritual blindness to receive sight from the Spirit, which is especially poignant in a city famous for treating physical eyes. In Laodicea we see that Christ’s harshest words are not for the persecuted but for the comfortable.
It is a sobering audit that forces us to look in the mirror. Christ’s verdicts expose how often our metrics of success and His are worlds apart. Jesus walks among us today, and His words “I know” are not meant to drive us into despair, but to lead us toward freedom, just as He did with the seven churches. He looks past our public persona to reveal the specific things we need to work through in our hidden compromises, and the prisons of our own making, formed through the habits that stifle our light. He exposes these areas not to shame us, but because we cannot be healed of what we refuse to acknowledge. But here is the vital balance: His gaze is not only searching; it is validating. He also sees the quiet faithfulness that no one else notices. He sees where you have endured like Smyrna, where you have kept His word with “little power” like Philadelphia, and where you have labored in love despite exhaustion. He knows the secret battles you have won and the silent sacrifices you have made. The eyes of fire do not just burn away the chaff; they also illuminate the gold. In this, we find our greatest comfort: we are fully known, yet fully loved, by the only One whose opinion actually matters.
Ultimately, we must ask why God bothers to disrupt us when we feel perfectly comfortable in our prisons. Why does He expose our blindness or our coldness? His rebuke is not a denial of His affection, but the ultimate proof of it; He loves us too much to leave us in the dark. This divine discipline demands a response, not guilt, but a return to righteousness and faith. It is a call to trade cold duty and religious performance for loving obedience. And while this letter is addressed to the whole church, the invitation is personal for it states: “He who has an ear, let him hear.” You cannot force the whole church to change, but you can be a force for change within it. It is better to be crushed and faithful than comfortable and useless. God gives us a job to do and a people to be because He sees not just who we are, but who we can be in Him. Francis Schaeffer asked the question: “If the Holy Spirit left our church this week, how long would it take us to notice?” We will only notice if we find ourselves living in the constant presence of Christ, who walks among us.
We hear the words of Christ while huddled in a prison of our own making, paralyzed and unable to do what we ought. But the vision of Revelation reveals that the door to this prison is locked from the inside. The Lord, the One with eyes of fire who sees everything, stands at that door and knocks. He does not batter it down with overwhelming power, instead He invites fellowship. He promises, “If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him”. The Church and followers of Christ must cast off the works of darkness, the quarreling and jealousy that keep us shackled in the dark, and exchange it for light. We are called to put on the Lord Jesus Christ Himself. His looking upon us with knowing eyes refines us, burning away impurities, not to destroy us, but so that we may stand with joy and confidence in God’s Holy Presence. We do not have to hide in our cells any longer, we are invited to open the door, and walk in the light of the love of a God that knows us.
Elpis and Shalom 