Behold! I stand knocking
- Bishop Michael Hough
- Jul 22
- 10 min read
In this document I single out the parish of Holy Trinity in Kingston SE, South Australia, Diocese of the Murray as an example for my following reflections. However, the choice is simply one of convenience and familiarity. I doubt whether other parishes are all that different and suspect that the spiritual malaise of being “lukewarm” is widespread.
I recently made a trip to Kingston SE in South Australia to visit friends. One thing stood out amidst all the other things that were going on – the Anglican Parish Centre. For the nearly three years I was living in the Church house, one observation almost universally made was how the parish centre looked loved. I would spend time throughout the day sitting on the verandah sipping coffee. It was amazing just how many people would pop in for a chat and a coffee. The real point was how it proclaimed that the Church was open and the rector available. People knew they had a priest in town, a church open for them when they needed a holy place.
I was also in habit of sitting down under the major tree in the centre of the Church lawns. We had a couple of seats there and I would sit there, drinking coffee with a parishioner by the name of Leisha. Again, people would join us. It was rare for us to sit there alone.
One of the things making the centre so attractive was its garden. The lawns were always manicured, and the gardens well-tended. In fact we took pride in the face the parish showed to the town. Again, it was a point of comment for the townsfolk. Some did not even know it was the Anglican Church, referring to it instead as “the Church on the Hill”. It was a kind of Mecca for locals, tourists and the poor and marginalised. Everyone was welcomed, we made hundreds of cups of tea and coffee, and I spent hours listening to the woes of those anguishing over a million or more real or perceived calamities.
I point these details out because in my recent trip I paused to wander around the Church grounds once again. It was a mess. An absolute jungle of abandonment. Weeds thrived where there were once well-loved lawns, agapanthus were ripped up, and even the once-blossoming lemon tree had been dug up. The grounds were an insight into the life of the parish. The grounds now spoke eloquently of the cancer that had taken over the once vibrant parish centre. Where the destitute, the druggies and the mentally challenged would once gather for comfort and consolation, seeking friendship and love, emptiness, neglect and death now reigned supreme. All that was needed was a tombstone with its epitaph: here lies the carcass of a once-loved faith community, torn apart by bitterness, selfishness and pride. We would rather die than live the gospel of Christ.
So many people came up to me and lamented what had happened to their local church. It was the only one open each day. They missed the Angelus bell calling people to prayer each morning and afternoon. They grieved over the loss of daily Morning and Evening Prayer, daily Eucharists and access to sacramental confession. How could I explain the realities to them? All I could do was to recite the Tower of Babel narrative, how people were so arrogant and overwhelmed by hubris that they considered themselves to be God’s equals. Faceless men in Murray Bridge, committed gossips in Kingston and Robe, unloving individuals, combined with the “we would rather be dead than reformed” brigade, came together to ensure the parish community of Kingston would die. As one disgruntled lady put it so eloquently: I cannot wait for the day when the church is sold off and turned into a wine bar. Compare this to the description of the Church that we find in Acts 2:42-47…
42 They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. 43 Everyone was filled with awe at the many wonders and signs performed by the apostles. 44 All the believers were together and had everything in common. 45 They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. 46 Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, 47 praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.
If we wanted a model for our own discipleship and for our faith communities, we could do no better than this recollection from Acts.
Kingston and the Church in Laodicea - Revelation 3:14-22
Reflecting on the slow death of the faith community in Kingston, I could not help but notice the similarities between Holy Trinity and the Church in ancient Laodicea. It is one of the churches to which a letter was written and an assessment given regarding their faithfulness to the Gospel. Even the kindest of commentators would have to agree that they failed miserably to convince the Risen Christ that they are true and faithful disciples. They were the worst kind of Christians – neither hot nor cold. In the words of Jesus Himself, they were to be vomited out of his mouth.
The Church in Laodicea:
Laodicea was a successful commercial and financial centre in Central Asia Minor, and the remains of its theatre, aqueducts, baths, gymnasium and stadium all testify to the wealth it enjoyed in its heyday. According to the Roman historian Tacitus, Laodicea was able to restore itself after a major earthquake without aid from Rome. That was an impressive achievement. Cicero held court in Laodicea and did his banking there. Laodicea was known for producing textiles made from high-quality black wool and for its famous school of medicine, which produced a particular eye salve called “collyrium.” It was famous for everything other than their faith!
Six miles east of Laodicea stood the city of Hierapolis, which was renowned for its hot springs. Though Laodicea was built on the Lycus River, it depended on water piped in from nearby cities Hierapolis and Colossae. The hot springs water from Hierapolis had cooled to a tepid temperature by the time it reached Laodicea, and the cold water from Colossae had warmed to a tepid temperature as it travelled through the aqueduct in the sun, so Laodicea was a city that truly understood lukewarm water.
By divine assessment, the Laodiceans were tepid, just like their water. However, in ancient days, cold water meant safe water. Icy water from a deep well-used water source was more likely to be clean and safe to drink. The warm water in Laodicea had travelled through aqueducts, but in that day warm water often meant standing water that had the opportunity to carry bacterial cultures and amoebas and insect larvae. Hot water is good and cold water is good, but lukewarm water at just the right temperature can be used to induce vomiting.
As it is so often with faith communities, the church in Laodicea thought they were doing okay, probably because they had money, were successful and famous. They were wealthy, and their wealth and pampered way of living led them to believe they had the blessing of God on their lives. The church of Laodicea felt at ease because they had their physical needs met, not realising that they were spiritually corrupt. They were not dead like the church of Sardis, but they were doing badly enough and rapidly heading that way.
“Laodicea” still exists today
There is only one reference in the Bible to a ‘lukewarm’ Christian and that is Revelation 3:15-16 which says; I know your deeds, that you are neither cold not hot. I wish you were either one of the other! So, because you are lukewarm - neither hot nor cold - I am about to spit you out of my mouth. These words are written to a church in Laodicea and represent the way Christ Jesus sees them. Of course, that would be in stark contrast to the way they saw themselves. There is something very significant in the way Jesus talks about them, making it clear that God would prefer a cold Christianity than the sort He finds here among the Laodiceans. The Christianity that seems to have plagued Laodicea is what we call ‘lukewarm’. So, what is it? And if we are lukewarm, are we saved?
Being lukewarm is akin to living out a “comfortable Christianity”, and that is a spot-on assessment of far too many contemporary faith communities – comfortable Christianity. The Anglicans in Kingston operated on the premise that they were prosperous and well-supported by income from the Op Shop. They had no real need for anything more, no need for change in the way they were living life in the Kingdom of God. What they fail to realise is that they are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind and naked. It is this type of Christianity that causes Jesus to say that he wants to vomit them out of his mouth! And God’s counsel to the Holy Trinity Church (and many other contemporary parishes) is the same as the one directed to the Laodicean Christians: Rev 3:19… those whom I love, I rebuke and discipline. So be zealous and repent. Lukewarm Christianity has lost its zeal, its passion for living and sharing the Good News of Jesus Christ. It is a collective of individuals who come together but fail to form a genuine community of believers. As such, their Church focus is inward and not, as Jesus demands, outwards, out into the streets of Kingston. Paul preaches a similar warning against being lukewarm in Romans 12:11…never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervour, serving the Lord. Zeal is not something I would naturally associate with Kingston Anglicans, or most of the Anglican parishes across the Diocese of the Murray. How can I dare to make that judgment? Empty pews, poor community reputation and unable to maintain what they have. Churches are closed down or amalgamated, and some of the basic ministries of the clergy are neglected (visitation, for example). Because they are without zeal, they would not consider that there is a need to repent of their sins. Lukewarm is comfortable and it is not possible to be comfortable spiritually and in terms of our mission in the world. “Comfortable” means we have forgotten the Cross, and without the Cross at the very heart of our daily living, we are far from the Kingdom of God.
Conclusion:
In Revelation 3:15-16, Jesus speaks directly to the church in Laodicea and through them to every faith community down through history:
“I know your works: you are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were either cold or hot! So, because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth.”
There can be no denying that these are strong words directed in unambiguous language by Jesus our Saviour, but they carry a warning that is just as relevant today as it was then. Lukewarm Christianity is what Jesus has in mind, a danger that creeps into our hearts and churches quietly. It is a faith that is comfortable but not committed, present but not passionate. It is a life where Jesus is acknowledged but not followed wholeheartedly. It is very much a matter of having Church, but on my terms, a faith community in which they move in and out with ease.
Among its other sins, lukewarm Christianity denies the world an opportunity to know Christ and to live in the blessings and joy of the Kingdom. We have been sent out into the world, to preach by word and deed, the Good News of the Reign of God, and we choose otherwise.
1. Lukewarm Christianity Is Self-Deceptive
One of the greatest dangers of being lukewarm is that it feels “good enough.” It is easy to assume that by attending church, saying a prayer now and then, and being a generally good person mean we are in right standing with God. But that is not what Jesus expects of us. A partial commitment is not enough, and it will never bring about the transformation of the world sought by the Almighty.
A lukewarm believer may claim to be a Christian but a slight scratching of the surface of their lives will show otherwise. They live with a divided heart—one foot in the world and one foot on the way to living in the kingdom of God. They go to church on Sundays and then pretty much forget about God for the rest of the week. This is not the way of the Lord, who calls us to love Him with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength (Mark 12:30), not just when it’s convenient.
2. Lukewarm Faith Leads to Spiritual Stagnation
When we are neither hot nor cold, we become spiritually stagnant. The spiritual life that sustains us today is no different to the one in which we were formed as children preparing for confirmation. Little has changed. Instead of a constant growth in the spiritual, we remain in the same place year after year. We stop hungering for God’s Word, our prayer life becomes mechanical, and we no longer expect God to move in powerful ways.
The Bible warns us that faith without action is dead (James 2:17). If we are not actively pursuing a deeper and life changing relationship with Christ, our faith becomes weak, lifeless, and ineffective. We are like the dry bones in the wilderness of which Ezekiel spoke so eloquently (37:1-28).
3. Lukewarm Christianity Lacks Power
There is not a single lukewarm church that is growing. They are shrinking, old and irrelevant because they are lukewarm! The early church, on the other hand, was filled with believers who were on fire for Jesus. They prayed boldly, witnessed courageously, and trusted God completely. As a result, lives were changed, miracles happened, and the gospel spread like wildfire.
Lukewarm faith, however, lacks power because it relies on human effort rather than the Holy Spirit. It avoids taking risks for God, choosing comfort over calling. A lukewarm believer may avoid speaking about Jesus, fearing offending others, while a passionate believer boldly shares the gospel, no matter the cost. The “Luke-warmer” believes faith is a private reality and not meant for sharing in the public forum.
The power driving the early faith communities, and vibrant, thriving Churches in places like Africa and Asia today, is the power of the Spirit of God poured out into the world at that first Pentecost.
4. Lukewarm Christianity Is Easily Distracted
A lukewarm Christian is often (willingly) incredibly busy going about the things of this world, the demands of living in a modern Western society. Instead of seeking God first, they prioritise career, entertainment, social media, or personal ambitions. The things of God become secondary to worldly demands, customs and philosophies. Jesus warns against this in Matthew 6:24, saying that we cannot serve two masters. If our hearts are divided, we will struggle to stay faithful to God.
There is a way of revival, a way to rejuvenate and tap into the God-given graces that we already have because of our Baptism. But that Jesus-given way of living is attached to the Cross, making it unattractive for those who are lukewarm. That Way of the Lord is Repentance. That is a reflection for another time, but the entire New Testament speaks of what repentance requires of us. The fruits of repentance are manifold, and the gifts it brings to the world are rich and powerful. They are so abundant, it makes us wonder why more Christians do not embrace the invitation to a new life.
Bishop Michael Hough July 2025
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