“So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot,

I am about to spit you out of my mouth.”

–Revelation 3:16

The words above come from the last of seven letters to a first-century church.  Each letter was shared by John as part of Revelation, but unlike the other six, the one to Laodicea has no words of praise. “I know your works,” the risen Christ begins, “you are neither cold nor hot.”  In modern terms, Jesus seems to be saying that those believers straddle the fence, perhaps thinking they could worship God and the Emperor at the same time. He tells them that isn’t possible and uses local imagery to make his point.

Laodicea was a wealthy community, but Jesus declares to that congregation “You do not realize that you are wretched, pitiable, poor” (v. 17). The city was renowned for its black wool, yet the Risen One says they need “white robes to clothe you and to keep the shame of your nakedness from being seen”  (v. 18b). One of their best-selling products was a prized eye salve, yet Jesus says only in him will they find “salve to anoint your eyes so that you may see” (v. 18c). Finally, they were located near a town with hot springs. Laodicea piped in the hot water, but it arrived tepid. He concludes “because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I am about to spit you out of my mouth” (v. 16)

After all of those affirmations of judgment, Jesus then offers a word of good news. “Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking, if you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me. (v. 20). That word could seem too little, too late, as most of the letter has such a firm tone. To hear it centuries later, we might wonder if Jesus could have been more diplomatic or softer in the messaging. What he models, though, is the importance of speaking the truth; something we know, but can have difficulty modeling it even so.

As a child, I took piano lessons for years. I mostly enjoyed it, but by early adolescence was tired of all the practicing and wanted to stop. My mother said that was fine, but left it up to me to inform my teacher. The next week, I shared the news. She was surprised. “Why? Was it the last recital?”  At the most recent time her students had played for an audience I had been the only one who had not memorized my selection. Even with sheet music in front of me I had played poorly and was embarrassed. Yet that wasn’t the reason. I was just tired of the time it took and wanted to focus on other things. Not wanting to hurt her feelings, though, I replied “Well, money’s tight at home and we can’t afford the lessons anymore.” I thought that would put an end to it, but she answered “John, I think you have such potential that I’m willing to teach you for free!” 

Many of us can recall times we spoke in equally untruthful ways. Perhaps it’s because we didn’t want to stir up controversy or get in trouble. It could have been that we went along quietly because we wanted to be liked by them. Such tendencies and the other motivations we have for withholding honesty can make these words from Jesus sound jarring. That is, until we hear his reasoning. “I reprove and discipline those whom I love,” he also said to that congregation. Revealing that honesty is not an indication of love’s absence, but its presence.

To be sure, there are times such truth-speaking is abused. Persons can say things that are mean and hide it under the guise of being loving. We can speak words that may be our truth, but are only our opinion and not a critical issue for the other. We’re not immune from such distortions of truth-telling for the simple reason that each of us is a flawed human being. Someone who can clearly miss the mark here, too.  

Even so, if we consistently fail to speak the truth for fear of hurting someone’s feelings, we’re not being loving to that friend. If we always go along and keep our mouth closed because we think he or she will be undone by the truth, we’re not showing love for her or him either. For all of us, there are times we need to speak the truth not only with a spirit of love, but because the truth is actually proof of love.

If we strive to respond in that way, I believe that God can help sort out the response.  All in such a way that even if the other never replies “You’re right,” new conversations can begin, leading them and us to discover what God would have us do next.

Truthful Lord, we confess those moments when our response is less than honest. Empower us to grow in our ability to speak as did Jesus, always with love. Amen.