When someone loses a loved one, do they get calls and cards of sympathy? Are meals prepared and baby-sitting provided when someone gets sick? When someone loses a job, do people in the church help them find a new one? When someone stops attending church, do they get calls from concerned members who miss them? This is the kind of thing that Jesus is talking about when he speaks about doing the things the church did at the beginning. Jesus is not asking us to make superficial demonstrations of emotion. Jesus is talking about genuine love which manifests itself in action. By doing these things, the church is able to contend against false teachers and the poisonous cloud of suspicion, judgmentalism, and acrimony will be wonderfully dissipated by acts of mercy and charity.

The Lord of His Churches Addresses the Ephesians
Jesus Christ is the Lord of his church. He walks among the seven lampstands and holds the seven stars in his hand. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End. He is alive forevermore and holds in his hands the keys of death and Hades. Jesus Christ is our great high priest who has freed us from our sins through the shedding of his own blood. He has made us to be a kingdom of priests to serve his God and father. That same Jesus now comes to us with words of exhortation and rebuke found in the seven letters addressed to the churches of Asia Minor.
In the opening section of the Book of Revelation (chapters 2-3) we find seven letters which were originally addressed to the seven churches scattered throughout Asia Minor (Turkey) and to whom John is sending this circular letter we now know as the Book of Revelation. The letters to the seven churches are part of a larger vision which begins in Revelation 1:12 and which continues on to the end of chapter 3. But before we go any farther, it is important to put these letters in their proper context in order to interpret them correctly.
Context of the Seven Letters
Although a number of commentators believe these letters represent seven consecutive periods in church history–the Ephesian era being the first, the Laodician being the last–it is much better to see these churches as historical Christian congregations facing horrible persecution at the hands of the pagan Roman empire, in addition to struggling with heretical teaching arising from within. Throughout the Book of Revelation, the number seven represents completeness and perfection. The letters to the “seven” churches means these letters and situations they describe are representative of the whole of Christ’s church throughout the ages. The issues these Christians faced in the first century are the very much the same issues we face in the twenty-first.
It is important to keep in mind the unique literary style of the Book of Revelation as we work our way through John’s visions. As Dennis Johnson points out in his excellent commentary (Triumph of the Lamb), each of these visions serve as a different camera angle as the redemptive drama unfolds during the course of this present evil age. Each vision focuses upon a particular aspect of the struggle between Christ and Satan during the last days and the great tribulation, which is the entire period of time between the first advent and second coming of Jesus Christ.
Symbolism Drawn from the Old Testament
Throughout these visions, John uses apocalyptic language in which symbols serve as word pictures of the cosmic struggle between Jesus Christ and his already defeated but ever defiant foe, the devil. John uses symbols such as lampstands, stars and keys, as well as certain numbers, such as “seven,” to point us to the realities which these symbols represent. This means that the symbols used in apocalyptic literature are not to be taken literally, as can be seen by the description of Jesus Christ which opens this vision in verses 12-20 (“The Alpha and the Omega” (Letters to the Seven Churches — Part One).
In order to correctly understand the meaning of these symbols we must look to the Old Testament from where they are drawn, as well as to the first century Roman empire, which serves as the historical backdrop against which the struggles these symbols portray is played out. For example, in these letters to the seven churches, John will refer to the historical circumstances faced by the Christians of first century Asia Minor. But John will frame these historical issues in the context of a greater struggle in which apocalyptic symbols are used to point us beyond Asia Minor and the Roman Empire of the first century to the struggles we currently face in our own day and age. The Christ of the seven churches of Asia Minor is the same Christ who wins the great victory over Satan and all those allied with him. The Christ of the first century church is the Christ of the twenty-first century church. The Christ who walks among the lampstands of the seven churches in Asia Minor, is the same Christ who walks among us when his people assemble for worship wherever they may be.
Before we look at the first of these seven letters–the letter written to the church in Ephesus–there are several things which can be said about these letters in general and which we should keep in mind. To begin with, it is vital that we connect the seven letters to the Christ who is ever-present in his church. This particular vision begins with John’s vision of the resurrected Christ recounted in verses 12-16 of chapter 1.

In his right hand he held seven stars, from his mouth came a sharp two-edged sword, and his face was like the sun shining in full strength. When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he laid his right hand on me, saying, “Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades. Write therefore the things that you have seen, those that are and those that are to take place after this. As for the mystery of the seven stars that you saw in my right hand, and the seven golden lampstands, the seven stars are the angels of the seven churches, and the seven lampstands are the seven churches.

All of the images John uses are drawn directly from the Old Testament and it is pointless to try and interpret these things literally as some medieval artists attempted to do in woodcuts and paintings, or in comic style today. When Jesus is described as being like a “son of man,” John reveals to us the true meaning of Daniel 7 and the everlasting kingdom of which Daniel had been speaking. When John speaks of Jesus with a long robe and golden sash, he is telling us that Jesus is the great high priest. When we hear that his head and hair are white, we see the reflected glory of the Ancient of Days. When Jesus’ feet glow like a furnace we should think of his purifying power. His voice, being like that of rushing water, means that his word is the Word of God. When Jesus speaks all creation must listen, for his testimony is true.
Furthermore, the lampstands are symbolic of God’s Holy Spirit, present in the churches, and who, through these lampstands, reminds us of the church’s function to be light-bearers to a fallen world. In Exodus 25:31, Moses describes in great detail how a golden lampstand with seven lamps is to be constructed for use in the tabernacle and then later in the temple. Even in Israel’s days in the wilderness, God was revealing his presence with his people through his Holy Spirit, to which the gold lampstand with seven lamps symbolically pointed. And now in John’s vision the same symbol appears again, only this time we are told of its true significance. Where the lampstand is present, Jesus is present. Where Jesus is present the Holy Spirit is present. And where the Holy Spirit is present, the church brings God’s light to the world around it which lives in darkness.
The Present and the Future
In verse 19, John is commanded by the Lord to write, “the things that you have seen, those that are and those that are to take place after this.” Some have argued that this statement is the interpretative key to the whole book, dividing things into the past (what you have seen), the present (what is now), and the future (what will take place later). But a number of commentators have pointed out that the correct division here is actually two-fold. John is commanded to write about what he has seen, things present and things future.[1] Since John has already told us in verse 1 that the things about to be revealed concern events which are soon to take place, it makes a great deal of sense to understand that John will discuss things that now are–i.e., the issues facing the seven churches to which he is writing, and then later–beginning in Revelation 4:1,where he will address things which are yet to take place in the future course of redemptive history until Christ’s second coming.
But there is something else we must consider. Jesus addresses seven historical churches in these letters. But when he addresses them, he also addresses us, promising blessing for obedience and threatening curse for disobedience. Yes, these are real imperatives which we must heed. But like all imperatives in the New Testament, they must be seen in the light of the indicatives (promises) which precede them.
The City of Ephesus
With these things in mind, we turn to Revelation 2:1-7 and Christ’s letter to the church in Ephesus. It might be helpful to know a bit about the city of Ephesus and the church which was founded there in the early 50’s of the first century. The city of Ephesus was famous throughout the ancient world for its temple dedicated to Diana (Artemis). In Acts 19, we read of Paul’s two years spent in the city which came to an end after certain Jews tried to exorcise a demon in the name of Jesus, only to have the demon possessed-man turn on them and beat them to a pulp (Acts 19:11-20). As a result of this incident, there were so many occultists in the area who came to faith in Jesus Christ that it was not long before those making a living selling religious trinkets associated with Diana worship and the temple began to see their formerly thriving businesses dry up.
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Written by Gary L. Welton |
Tuesday, May 7, 2024
Without a doubt, the most serious way in which we are not protecting our descendants is with regard to financial irresponsibility. Our national debt is approaching 35 trillion dollars, representing a personal debt of $105,000 for every individual (adult, teen, child, toddler, and newborn) living in America. We are all in serious debt, and we don’t care. We will just pass it on to our descendants. Apparently, we are living in agreement with King Hezekiah. The news is good, because it won’t blow up in my lifetime. It will not be my problem in my days.

We spend our middle adult years protecting our children. Indeed, parenting represents the most expensive and difficult responsibility of our lives. We baby-proof our houses. We warn them about the dangers of living in the 21st century. We educate them to be productive members of society. We seek to protect them from the dangers of drug abuse. We invest our retirement dollars so that we do not become burdens on them.
It is an overwhelming challenge, and perhaps we all have at least a few regrets about certain decisions we made and priorities we chose. Then we run out of energy and are delighted to move beyond the parenting stage to the grandparenting years. Instead of continually putting out substantial dollars for the benefit of our children, we eagerly move into the next role. According to the 1978 Nobel Literature prize winner Isaac Bashevis Singer, “Children come with labor pains, but grandchildren are pure profit” (In My Father’s Court). We are finished with our parenting sort of responsibilities—or maybe not. What are our responsibilities to the future and more distant generations?
King Hezekiah of Judah is described by the writer of 2 Chronicles as a good king, in the tradition of King David (29:2). Yet, like King David, he had his human frailties, such as that described in Isaiah 39, when he succumbed to pride and showmanship by displaying his kingly wealth to the envoys from the King of Babylon. The prophet Isaiah confronts the king with the prophecy that Judah’s wealth would be looted and carried away to Babylon in the days of his descendants.
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God has not left us ignorant of the sphere of warfare or of the enemy himself. Much biblical revelation from the first promise of Christ’s victory over the evil one (Genesis 3:15) is taken up with a revelation about the nature of spiritual warfare.

What impact would it have had on the church in our late-modern, scientific day and age if the author(s) of the Apostles’ Creed had included a statement about the reality of angelic activity and spiritual warfare in the Christian life? I envision such a statement as reading like this: “I believe in principalities and powers, spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places with whom we wrestle; I believe that Christ has conquered them by His death on the cross; I believe that I need the armor of God to overcome them in my warfare with them throughout the time of my sojourn here.” I desperately wish that this was a part of our weekly confession of faith, because in many theologically informed congregations where holiness, wrath, righteousness, justice, sin, grace, mercy, and forgiveness are unashamedly proclaimed, there is sometimes a noticeable lack of teaching about the reality of spiritual warfare in the believer’s life.
Though many ministers, in our day, have given inadequate attention to a biblical exposition of spiritual warfare, this was not always the case in the church. Among the Puritan ministers in seventeenth-century England, there was no such shortage of works on spiritual warfare. The more well-known works include Thomas Brooks’ Precious Remedies against Satan’s Devices, William Gurnall’s The Christian in Complete Armor, John Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress, Christopher Love’s The Christian’s Combat, and Richard Gilpin’s Demonologia Sacra.
What accounts, then, for the disparity of emphasis among seventeenth-century Protestant pastors and pastors in more theologically minded churches in our day? First, many mature Christians rightly seek to avoid giving the sense that we are not responsible for our own sin. Far too many professing believers have dismissed their responsibility by functionally blaming Satan for their sin. In the epistle to the Romans, there is only one reference to Satan (Rom. 16:20), whereas there are fifty-seven references to sin. Our sin is a major theme of biblical revelation. We must keep in proportion what God keeps in proportion in His Word.
Second, it is all too common for believers to overreact to the unbiblical teaching they endured in churches in which the leadership approached the subject of spiritual warfare as something more akin to New Age, science fiction gnosticism than faithful biblical exposition. A wrong view of spiritual warfare leads to a wrong view of the Christian life. Nevertheless, the New Testament does include an abundance of teaching about the reality of spiritual warfare. The most full-orbed treatment comes at the end of Paul’s letter to the church in Ephesus in his exposition of the armor of God (Eph. 6:10–20).
The Battlefield
At the opening of the letter to the Ephesians, the Apostle Paul reminds believers in the church that God has already blessed them “in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places” (1:3; emphasis added). At the close of the letter, he reminds them that the entirety of the Christian life is one in which they will be engaged in hand-to-hand combat “against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (6:12; emphasis added). “The heavenly places” is shorthand for the heavenly origin of the Christian life. It is also shorthand for the spiritual realm in which we fight against spiritual hosts of evil. The great Dutch theologian and statesman Abraham Kuyper once captured the essence of this spiritual sphere when he wrote:
If once the curtain were pulled back, and the spiritual world behind it came to view, it would expose to our spiritual vision a struggle so intense, so convulsive, sweeping everything within its range, that the fiercest battle ever fought on earth would seem, by comparison, a mere game. Not here, but up there—that is where the real conflict is waged. Our earthly struggle drones in its backlash.1
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