Ephesus: The Empty Church

Introduction

It has often been joked that those looking for a perfect church will render it imperfect the moment they set foot in it. Without a doubt, any church is made up of imperfect people, and if we can't accept this, we will no longer have a church. While some consider it their sacred duty to size everyone up and boot out all the people who have problems, others see this type of compulsive "sorting" as the danger in teaching sound doctrine. They think--and understandably so--that doctrine divides. "Let's focus on what we have in common," we often hear, especially within the ecumenical movement.

While we would by no means endorse tolerance over truth as ensuring the health of any church, we do see in the fate of the church at Ephesus that a strength can become a weakness. While doctrine divides truth from error, doctrine without love divides people from church. As we examine the first personal message in the Book of Revelation--the one addressed to Ephesus--we see once again in this letter within a letter the masterful persuasion of Christ. The bottom line is that, tragically, both the ecumenical "tolerant" church--which the church at Ephesus resisted becoming--and the evangelical "best-taught" church--which they assumed they were--can be empty with a sanctuary full of "perfect" people.

Christ's Ethos

A sobering indictment against many churches today is the fact that, if Christ were to enter incognito, He Himself would not fit the "perfect" profile. But the church of Ephesus in particular compels us to realize that, whether or not He would be welcome, He is present. He not only walks among the seven golden candlesticks; He exhibits all three attributes of Almighty God in doing so: His omnipresence, walking among us; His omniscience, declaring, "I know your works"; and His omnipotence, wielding the authority to punish sin and reward obedience.

Christ's authority over the churches of Asia emanates directly from His sinless majesty as Risen Lord and Coming King. John has identified Him as the "faithful witness" (Revelation 1:5) whose countenance shines as the sun, whose eyes burn like fire, whose feet shine like brass, whose voice sounds both as a trumpet and as many waters, whose white apparel and gold sash befit purity and royalty, and out of whose mouth extends a sharp, two-edged sword. This peerless Christ we must adore in our worship if our churches would be filled.

But John, the disciple whom Jesus loved and who leaned his head on His breast, grounds all this unapproachable majesty in the one doctrinal anchor to which every church must cling: our allegiance is "unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood" (Revelation 1:5). No amount of good teaching or sound doctrine can ever replace the soul's transformation at the foot of the Old Rugged Cross. Unless we receive Christ's love and submit our sin-sick souls to His cleansing fountain, we can cross all the "t's" and dot all the "i's" we please, but we will be merely counting the threads of legalistic grave clothes if no one leaves our doors redeemed. If we ever forget that we are ragged sinners saved by grace, we will pull a church down from the heavenlies the minute we sit down in the pew.

Ephesus's Pathos

When we read what Christ says to the church of Ephesus in the context of Paul's letter to the Ephesians, we see just how heartbreaking this church's fall from grace was. To those who read Ephesians 1 and 2 as an argument for unconditional election--as if a fall from grace is impossible for Christ's "elect"--we find an irreconcilable disconnect between the Ephesians' status of sitting in high places in Christ Jesus (Ephesians 2:6) and the height from which they had fallen in Revelation 2:5. Graced not only with the teaching of the Apostle Paul for three years--the length of Christ's earthly ministry--but also with the oversight of the Apostle John after Paul's death, and even with the loving presence of Christ's mother, Mary: this church boasted a spiritual pedigree second to none.

Is this where pride set in? This church had seemed so tender and sorrowful at Paul's departure for Jerusalem in Acts 20:17-38, when he told the Ephesians at Miletus that he knew he would never see them again. And yet how poignant was Paul's foreboding that wolves would invade soon after he was gone. Had this word of warning set the Ephesians in militant mode--with the warfare mindset required for the Christian's armor as outlined in Ephesians 6:10-18? Did the church of Ephesus forget who the enemy is and begin attacking each other?

Discernment videos abound today, and some of the worst are calling out as "false teachers" sincere Bible teachers whose historic doctrinal persuasion differs from the speaker's. This vicious precedent ignores the reality of love flowing from John Wesley to George Whitefield and from Charles Spurgeon to both. We have all but lost our minds today in labeling every thread of doctrine to the point that the most vicious false teachers just might be ourselves.

The Truth's Logos

Christ's message to the angel of the church of Ephesus is as definitive as it is ambiguous. To a church addicted to cerebral fidelity, a more direct indictment would have been lost in debate. But the Master Teacher sets them on their heels. After commending their works, labor, patience, and loyalty as those who "cannot bear them [that are] evil," and after even recognizing that they have labored patiently "for my name's sake," Christ inserts His sword into the heart of this warrior church. He loves them too much to spare them the truth, rightly dividing excellence from error: "Nevertheless I have somewhat against thee, because thou hast left thy first love" (Revelation 2:4).

This devastating diagnosis is often misquoted as the church of Ephesus having "lost" its first love. But this is not true. The shift was not an accident, whatever it was. The Greek word for "left" is ἀφῆκες or aphēkes, implying a voluntary action of letting go, forsaking, or sending away. The root of this verb, ἀφίημι or aphiēmi, is the same word used in 1 Corinthians 7:11-13 regarding the sending away of a spouse through divorce or desertion. Christ will not abide spiritual adultery.

Immediately following this charge of having left its first love, Christ as the Faithful Witness commands the church of Ephesus, "Remember therefore from whence thou art fallen, and repent, and do the first works; or else I will come unto thee quickly, and will remove thy candlestick out of his place, except thou repent" (Revelation 2:5). The command to repent in a complete turnaround underscores that this having "left" was a sin. It also was a sin that resulted in falling from grace--seated in high places though this church had been. No other explanation can be rationalized to warrant such a stern word from Christ: repent or else.

The consequence? If they do not repent, He will remove their candlestick--the church's identity will cease to exist--this church so proud of its discernment, its teaching, its loyalty to the truth. Have you ever stepped inside a church like this? I have, and the chill will not soon leave your bones. This is not to belittle any of those things, but it is to say that, without Christ, such a church is empty. Worse still, it is deadly. But notice Christ's rhetorical repetition here: the Ephesian church has "left" their "first love," and they must "repent" and "do the first works." First love . . . first works. What are these? What is He saying?

Isn't it interesting that Christ leaves them in confusion, this church that had evidently grown so smug in categorizing everything from A to Z while forgetting that Christ Himself is the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End? How it must have pained John to write these words to his own onetime church as the disciple who loved Jesus more than life itself!

The Confusion of Christ's Conclusion

Whether the church of Ephesus was as confused as we might be to hear Christ say this to the "best-taught" church today, we never find out. The truth is that they walked right into their fate. Rather than accepting Christ's gracious invitation to overcome, so that they might eat of the Tree of Life from Paradise itself (Revelation 2:7), this church never left its death course. Not only did they not repent; they did indeed cease to exist. Their lampstand flickered and their light died out, and the city of Ephesus itself was eventually abandoned with no Christian presence remaining. The area surrounding Ephesus today is now modern-day Turkey with a 99% Muslim influence. Left their first love? When did you ever hear of a devout Muslim whose driving motivation was love? The site of Ephesus today could very possibly be one of the most loveless places on earth.

Dare we settle the confusion that such an indictment of having left one's first love should cause today? What is this "first love"? But if we have to ask, have we not noticed the emptiness ourselves? I have no doubt that the Apostle John knew exactly what the void was.