When the Apostle John recorded the words of the resurrected Christ to the church in Laodicea, He gave a warning that still echoes for us today: “I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot: I would thou wert cold or hot. So then because thou art lukewarm… I will spue thee out of my mouth.” (Revelation 3:15–16)
It’s one of the most vivid images in scripture — and perhaps one of the hardest to hear. None of us wants to stand before the Lord and realize we’ve become part of a modern lukewarm church. Yet sometimes I wonder, quietly and personally, if I’m doing just enough to blend in while my spiritual fire cools behind closed doors. Am I, in my daily discipleship, drifting into a modern lukewarm church mindset without even noticing?
As members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we treasure the Restoration. Doctrine and Covenants 1:30 boldly calls this the “only true and living church.” But even a
living church can grow stale for an individual disciple who coasts through covenant life half-awake. If my prayers grow routine, my scripture study turns shallow, or my temple worship feels rushed — am I building up Zion, or am I adding to a modern lukewarm church one lukewarm heart at a time?
Laodicea was wealthy, comfortable, respected — but spiritually weak. Its warning is not about them alone; it’s about me, today. It’s about whether I treat my faith as a living fire or let it cool into something passive. It’s not the whole congregation that makes a modern lukewarm church — it’s ordinary Saints like me, letting comfort replace covenant commitment.
Standing among the broken stones of ancient Laodicea makes this message real. I can read the warning in Revelation at home, but when I stand in that ancient city, I feel it in my bones: a modern lukewarm church is not a building or a policy — it’s my heart, my habits, my secret spiritual life when no one else sees.
So I ask myself, and maybe you do too: What would the Lord write in my personal letter today? Am I part of a modern lukewarm church, or am I doing the daily work to stay hot or cold, never in the unremarkable middle? If you’ve ever wondered the same, you’re not alone — and there’s power in standing where the first warning was given.
What was Laodicea Known for?
When I first heard the term “lukewarm church,” I pictured an apathetic congregation with empty pews and dusty hymnals. But standing in Laodicea, you realize how surprising Christ’s words really were. Laodicea wasn’t failing by worldly standards — it was thriving.
In John’s time, Laodicea was a wealthy city, famous for banking, textiles, and a prized medical school. They had so much wealth that when an earthquake devastated the city in AD 60, they proudly refused Roman aid and rebuilt everything themselves. In other words, they were self-reliant in every way — except spiritually.
As Latter-day Saints, we deeply value self-reliance too. We teach it in our homes, our wards,
and our humanitarian efforts. But the difference between righteous self-reliance and spiritual pride is subtle. Laodicea’s comfort led to complacency. Christ’s message cut through their pride: “Because thou sayest, I am rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing; and knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked.” (Revelation 3:17)
When I think about the idea of a modern lukewarm church, I see how easy it is for me to rely on my temporal blessings instead of the Savior. Like the Saints in Laodicea, I can focus on building a secure life — house, savings, education — and forget that my spiritual hunger is far more urgent than my worldly comfort.
There’s another detail that makes the warning feel personal. Laodicea had no good water source of its own. It piped in hot water from Hierapolis and cold water from Colossae. By the time it arrived, it was lukewarm — not useful for bathing or drinking. Christ used what they knew best — their own lukewarm water — to remind them that a modern lukewarm church does nothing refreshing or healing.
In Doctrine and Covenants 58:26–29, the Lord warns that He is not pleased with “those who need to be commanded in all things.” He wants willing hearts — hot or cold, active and alive. A modern lukewarm church can happen when disciples do just enough to check the box but never enough to truly change.
The ancient city’s broken columns and silent streets remind me that faith isn’t inherited or maintained by wealth or culture. A living church stays alive because its people stay alive spiritually. Laodicea teaches me that comfort can quietly replace commitment. And the warning to avoid a modern lukewarm church life is a personal invitation to check my own temperature: Am I truly hot or cold — or drifting in the middle, one day at a time?
How We Stay Hot or Cold, Not Lukewarm
When Christ urged the Saints in Laodicea to be either hot or cold, He was calling them to be fully alive in their faith — not passive, not coasting, not comfortably tepid. For each of us, avoiding the trap of a modern lukewarm church begins with choosing daily discipleship that keeps our hearts burning bright.
President Russell M. Nelson has spoken plainly about spiritual complacency: “In coming days, it will not be possible to survive spiritually without the guiding, directing, comforting, and constant influence of the Holy Ghost.” That survival depends on whether we actively seek the Spirit’s influence every day — or settle for spiritual autopilot.
One of the simplest ways to guard against drifting into a modern lukewarm church mindset is to make small, deliberate efforts every day. President Nelson has taught, “The Lord loves effort, because effort brings rewards that can’t come without it.” Spiritual warmth grows in the daily details — sincere prayers instead of hurried words, meaningful scripture study instead of skimming a few verses, a temple visit even when it’s inconvenient.
President Henry B. Eyring once said, “When you choose whether to keep a commandment of God, you are choosing whether you want to be close to Him or away from Him.” Staying close keeps us “hot” in the Savior’s eyes.
Another way to guard against becoming a modern lukewarm church is to remember that true conversion always leads outward. President Gordon B. Hinckley reminded us, “The best antidote I know for worry is work. The best medicine for despair is service.” When we serve others — whether by ministering to a neighbor, lifting a struggling family member, or fulfilling our callings with real intent — we feel our faith ignite again.
In a world that values comfort and convenience, we’re constantly tempted to coast. But the scriptures, ancient and modern, testify that coasting has no place in the Lord’s kingdom. He asks for disciples who are all in. Every time we choose faith over ease, compassion over indifference, and daily effort over spiritual laziness, we push back against the pull of a modern lukewarm church and stand firmly with the Saints who came before us.
Why Stand in Ancient Laodicea?
It’s one thing to read about Laodicea in the pages of Revelation — it’s another to stand on the same dusty stones where early Saints once gathered and hear those words echo through your own heart.
When I first read Christ’s warning to Laodicea, it felt distant — a message for another time, another people. But when you stand in the ruins of that ancient city, the lesson becomes real. You see the remains of aqueducts that once carried lukewarm water into the city. You see the grand pillars that hint at its wealth and pride. And you realize how easy it is, even today, to slip into the same patterns and become a modern lukewarm church one quiet choice at a time.
President Nelson’s invitation to “let God prevail” rings in my mind as I walk Laodicea’s broken streets. It reminds me that these ancient warnings were preserved for our day — for my day. The Lord didn’t preserve the message to Laodicea just to fill out a chapter in scripture. He did it so each of us could look at our own hearts and ask: Am I part of a modern lukewarm church, or am I fully His?
There’s something powerful about standing where real Saints once stood — people who were just like us: trying to balance family, work, and discipleship in a world full of distractions. Visiting these sacred sites in Turkey — not just Laodicea, but all the Seven Churches — is more than a historical tour. It’s a chance to examine whether I’m letting my faith go lukewarm or keeping my covenant fire alive.
For Latter-day Saints, these places are an opportunity to study the Book of Revelation not as a mystery, but as a mirror. The question isn’t whether the Saints in Laodicea failed — the question is whether I will. Standing in Laodicea, I feel the Spirit asking me to be honest: What is one thing I can do to push back against a modern lukewarm church in my own home and heart?
For some, it might be more intentional prayers. For others, it might be forgiving someone we’ve held at arm’s length. Maybe it’s simply feeling the Spirit whisper that it’s time to wake up a part of our discipleship that’s gone cold.
Laodicea stands today in silent testimony — a city once proud, now ruins. But the lesson still lives. When I stand there, I remember that a modern lukewarm church begins or ends with me. And maybe that’s why seeing Laodicea in person can change us — because the Spirit has a way of turning ancient warnings into modern invitations to burn brighter than ever before.