John 7:38 Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.
Laodicea was an idyllic city except for its lack of a water supply. It depended on water from an external source, the city of Hierapolis was located six miles to the north, the site of mineral hot springs which were used for medicinal purposes. These steaming hot waters were piped to Laodicea, arriving there… lukewarm, hence the metaphor in Yeshua’s warning to the Laodicean church.
Laodicea’s lack of a water supply also rendered the city vulnerable to siege. Potential enemies were, therefore, placated, accommodated, negotiated with, or pleaded to compromise, as the city’s leaders were desperate to avoid open conflict.
A wealthy, pleasure-loving, vulnerable, easily compromised city seems to have produced a congregation of similar character.
This combination of features makes it difficult to determine which one contributed most to the miserable spirituality of the Laodicean church. There seems to have been little true, living faith there, much less any demonstration of the power or holiness of God. Rather, the flesh ruled in Laodicea.
Laodicea’s lack of its own water supply, however, might have been a constant reminder of a promise Yeshua (Jesus) gave to all who are thirsty: “If any man thirst, let him come to me and drink. He that believeth on me, as the scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water;” [John 7:37-38].
Laodicea’s lack of water was a living natural metaphor that every Laodicean could have benefitted from, if it was rightly apprehended. The deficiency of water might have reminded them of a deeper need, and the Lord’s offer to fulfill it most wonderfully. Remembering the Laodicean church we may all become aware of our own desperate thirst and also, receive HIs promise… rivers of living (Holy Spirit) water!
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Over the past few years, some leaders who once inspired many have fallen into scandals that have brought harm and confusion to the body of Christ. In moments like these, it’s easy to feel disillusioned or lost, as if the work of God depends on human vessels who have failed us. But I’m reminded of how Elisha responded when Elijah was taken from him. His eyes were not on the departing servant but on the living God. “Where is the Lord God of Elijah?” he cried — not, “Where is Elijah?” That cry holds a lesson for us today: our hope and strength are not in human leaders, but in the God who works through them—and who remains faithful even when men falter.
The day before Israel launched Operation Rising Lion, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu stood before the ancient stones of the Western Wall and placed a prayer in its crevices. He chose Numbers 23:24—a verse that declares a timeless truth: God calls Israel and His people everywhere to rise with strength, purpose, and courage, no matter what challenges they face.
When we read the Beatitudes, we catch a glimpse of Yeshua’s heart and the values that define His Kingdom. His words unveil the kind of life that God calls blessed—marked by humility, mercy, purity of heart, a hunger for righteousness, peacemaking, and faithful endurance in the face of suffering.
We often celebrate beginnings—new chapters, breakthroughs, divine appointments. But in God’s economy, every true beginning requires a holy crossing. Before the Hebrews could enter the Promised Land, they had to leave Egypt. Before they entered the Promised Land, they had to cross over the Red Sea. And before Abraham could receive God’s promises, he had to obey a single command: “Leave.”
When the children of Israel wandered in the wilderness for forty years, they traversed a rugged, unpredictable landscape — mile after mile of mountains, valleys, rocks, and desert sands — as they journeyed from slavery in Egypt to the Promised Land.
For many, God remains a theory—an idea borrowed from tradition, deduced from the cosmos, or tucked quietly into the corners of a creed. He is believed in from afar, but is rarely encountered. Even among believers, it’s not uncommon to live with a distant reverence for God while lacking a vibrant, personal communion with Him.
God has always longed for intimacy with us. He formed us for Himself–to walk with Him, to know Him, to delight in His Presence. This is the very heartbeat of creation: relationship, not religion. Yet sin drove a wedge between us. A veil was drawn, shutting out the light of His face and placing distance where there was once communion.