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Laodicean Christians The Revelation 3:14-18 Most of you know that The Book of the Revelation is my favorite book of the Bible. I took a class in it in seminary with Dr. Bruce Metzger, who was the chairman of the committee that produced the Revised Standard Version of the Bible. (We all sat in awe in his class!) And in this class, he helped us understand the complicated and convoluted symbolism of the book. He also helped us understand that you can’t connect each event in the book to some event in our time, and that the mystical number 666 can’t really be applied to existing politicians or dictators (as much as we might want to!) He enabled us to see that the power in the book is the comfort and hope it brought to First Century Christians who were suffering under terrible persecution at the hands of Rome. But Dr. Metzger also made the point that while it was written for First Century Christians, it still had powerful truths to be shared with those in any other century. Like even the Twenty-First Century. Especially the words John the Apostle gave to the seven churches of Asia – the original recipients of the book. And the words that are the saddest are the ones written to the church in Laodicea. Now the church in Laodicea had a long history. We read in Colossians that Paul wrote a letter to that church, which may or may not have entered our Bible as Ephesians. Scholars are not entirely sure. And apparently, Archippus, one of Paul’s associates, was a leader of the church in Laodicea, and Paul urged him to keep doing what he was supposed to be doing, and not to shirk his task for Christ, a warning we also find in Colossians. And maybe he did. We don’t know. But by the time the Revelation was written, about thirty years later, the Laodicean Church was in crisis mode. Only they didn’t know it. Laodicea was one of the most important cities of the Roman province of Asia (modern day Turkey). Situated in the south of that area on a wide, flat plain, it straddled the main trade route from Europe to Asia and even Egypt. While all ancient roads led to Rome as they said, a lot of roads led to Laodicea. Because of its strategic location, the city became a banking and financial center, sort of the ancient version of Wall Street. So wealthy was the city that when an earthquake devastated Laodicea in 61AD, the people rebuilt the city with no help from the Roman government. And because the city was wealthy, so were the Christians there. The Laodicean church was well off and their financial secretary and treasurer never had to wonder what the offering plates would hold. The sad thing is, though, that the church was so wealthy that the members became self- sufficient; they relied on no one, not even God. But what if…. What if they looked not to their banking and financial and commercial treasures, but to the treasures God gave them? What if they relied on the blessings of grace and hope and peace and joy and strength and courage God offered them out the abundance of His Heaven, none of which had a price tag, because they are priceless? What if they turned to God first before their wallets and pocketbooks and savings accounts? What might they have learned? I once heard of a man, a new Christian, who decided he should tithe to the church in gratitude for all God had done for him. Only, he got a little confused with the concept – he gave 90% of his income to the church and kept 10% for himself. Wherever he is, send him a pledge card. Of course, someone did help him understand that he had the percentages in reverse, that God only expects 10% of our income (although He does expect 100% of our lives! – but I preached that sermon two weeks ago!) This man, however, did learn something. He learned absolute trust in God, maybe even radical trust in God. He learned that if he put all he had in God’s hands, even the 10% he held on to for himself, God would not fail him. And God didn’t. Even after this man began holding on to the 90% for himself. You all know that our congregation isn’t doing quite as well financially as we all would like. Sometimes there are worried looks on the faces of our financial secretary and treasurer. And I am not particularly happy with the budget for 2017 our Session passed this week. I hope you won’t be happy with it either in regards to what we are not able to do. But you know what – we are not Laodicean Christians. Oh, perhaps we get close to it once in a while. But we are not Laodicean Christians. You all remind me of that every week. And I was really reminded of that last week when we celebrated Mission Sunday. All of our mission folks told me how impressed they were with the spirit they saw and felt in our church. They were grateful for all of our members who interacted with them and the opportunity to tell their story. One even told how impressed he was with the number of children who came forward for the children’s message. Now I know these things, but it is always exciting to me when people from outside our congregation come in and tell me that they see our passion. I’m not patting myself on the back, nor patting you on your backs. But isn’t it great to know that while we might not be as rich as the Christians in Laodicea, we’ve got the grace and hope and peace and joy and strength and courage God has offered out of the abundance of His Heaven? And you know what else I believe? I believe that those things will eventually translate into what goes in our offering plates! I’m counting on it, because I count on God. I am simply not going to be a Laodicean Christian and I hope none of you will either! Which leads us to another fact about Laodicea. It was the center of a huge clothing manufacturing industry. It was the New York garment district of the ancient world. Huge flocks of sheep that grazed outside the city were world renown for their soft, glossy wool. And using that wool, the clothing industry mass produced inexpensive outer garments known all over the empire. They were known as trimita, and the city, so famous for them, was often nicknamed Trimitaria My guess is that many of the Christians in the Laodicean church were in business of raising those sheep, or shearing the wool, or making those garments, or selling them. And I can picture in my mind’s eye the Laodicean Christians parading into their worship services, showing off the latest in trimiti. The sad thing is, these Laodicean Christians, for all their trimiti, were naked – spiritually. Bare down to the skin because they weren’t wearing clothing that really mattered. There’s a story about a couple who left church after worship one Sunday. The wife turned to her husband and said: “Did you see the dress Mrs. Jones was wearing today? It was so loud I could hear it on the other side of the sanctuary.” “No I didn’t,” he replied. “And did you notice how tight the slacks were that Mrs. Brown was wearing? Hardly appropriate for church.” “I didn’t notice,” he said. “And did you see how short a skirt Mrs. Wolf was wearing? A mother of three wearing something that short? Hardly acceptable.” Again, he said: “I didn’t notice that either.” “Well,” the wife sniffed. “A fat lot of good coming to church does for you!” Well, maybe he was paying attention to the sermon. Maybe the Laodicean Christians were so busy checking out each other’s trimiti that they didn’t realize that, like the emperor in the fairy tale about his new clothes, that spiritually speaking, they were in their underwear (or even less!) What if…. What if the Laodicean Christians were wearing the robes of righteousness that God offered them? What if they were parading around in the full armor of God that He offered them? What if they were wearing the uniform of a Christian soldier rather than the uniform of, well, a naked pew sitter? What if? Now I promise you that I am not about to establish a dress code for our congregation. I really don’t even mind that our children and youth sometimes wear jeans to church –as long as they are neat and clean. At least they are here! But you know what? I have seen all of you at one time or another wear the robes of righteousness. I have seen you putting on the armor of God. I have seen, in Sunday School classes and at meetings and in fellowship opportunities and in countless other ways – I have seen what you are really wearing. Oh, sometimes, it gets a little faded or worn. We all have those days. But as I look out at all of you, I see a people dressed in God’s finest. Not the trimiti of ancient Laodicea. Again, I’m not patting all of you on the back, nor myself either. But while we might not be dressed in the finest like those from Laodicea, we still have the robes we are supposed to be wearing (and if you look further in the Revelation, you’ll find God’s people wearing robes of the purest white, God’s people who refused to be Laodicean Christians).

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