Introduction
Revelation 2 opens more than a new chapter; it begins a new section in the book. Jesus Himself gave John the outline in Revelation 1:19: write what you have seen, what is, and what will take place after this. Chapter 1 recorded what John had seen, the glorified, resurrected Christ, so overwhelming that John fell as though dead. Chapters 2–3 now move into “the things which are,” the present realities of the church age expressed through seven dictated letters to seven real churches. Then Revelation 4–22 turns to events “after this,” the future portion of the prophecy.
This matters because we are still living in the church age. The Lord did not give these letters merely for historical curiosity. They address literal congregations in John’s day, but they also speak to the church in every age and to individual believers who make up Christ’s church.
As we begin these letters, it helps to remember four layers of application that run together. First, each letter was written to a real church in a real city. Second, each letter contains counsel and warning for the entire church across time. Third, because the health of a church is the spiritual life of its people, these words pierce personally, our love, our repentance, our endurance. Fourth, the seven letters also form a remarkable panorama of church history. When set beside the eras of Christian history, from the apostolic age (roughly AD 30–100), to the persecuted centuries, to the state-supported church after the Edict of Milan (AD 313), to the papal and medieval period, to the Reformation beginning in 1517, to the missionary era and awakenings, and finally to the modern apostate drift, these letters seem to align in a way too precise to dismiss as coincidence. The churches were even arranged along an old Roman postal route, and Christ dictated them in an order that matches that path and, strikingly, the broad storyline of church history.
Along the way we also notice that each letter follows a seven-part pattern: an address to the church, an introduction of Jesus, a description of the church’s condition, Christ’s verdict, His command, a universal exhortation to hear, and a promised reward to the overcomer. With that structure in mind, we come now to the first church: Ephesus.
Module Content
Ephesus was not a marginal outpost; it was a strategic center, politically and religiously. It was the provincial capital of Asia and a stronghold of pagan worship, especially the cult of Artemis (also called Diana). The massive temple to Artemis dominated the city, an engineering marvel and one of the wonders of the ancient world, visible from far away and functioning not only as a religious center but also as a hub of commerce, even a kind of bank. The city’s spiritual darkness expressed itself in overt idolatry and widespread witchcraft.
Acts 19–20 gives background for how deeply the gospel confronted that darkness. So many were converted that a remarkable public burning of occult scrolls took place, an expensive renunciation of former practices, showing that Christ’s authority had displaced the city’s magical economy. Yet the pressures on Christians remained severe. Even ordinary participation in the marketplace could require a symbolic act of emperor worship, such as offering incense to Caesar, something believers could not do with a clear conscience. Over time, the imperial cult only intensified. By the time John received these letters, the emperor was increasingly regarded as divine. There were temples and public monuments exalting Rome’s rulers, including a towering statue connected to the emperor who had exiled John to Patmos. The Christians in Ephesus lived with that constant, visible reminder of political power demanding spiritual allegiance.
And still, the church thrived.
It thrived, the transcript stresses, because it was well fed and well taught. Ephesus had received extraordinary spiritual investment. Paul had helped plant the church; coworkers like Priscilla and Aquila strengthened the work; men like Apollos and Tychicus labored among them; Timothy pastored there for a season; and later John himself, once released from Patmos, served in Ephesus until his death. If any church had been given light, it was this one.
But with that privilege came a danger, especially as the years passed. By the time of Revelation 2, around forty years had gone by since Paul’s early ministry there. A first generation had given way to a second and now a third. The sermon warns that there is a particular vulnerability in the third generation: what was once burning love and personal devotion can become inherited familiarity, correct practice without tender affection.
Jesus begins the letter with the address: “To the angel of the church of Ephesus write…” (Revelation 2:1). The word “angel” (Greek angelos) means “messenger.” The teaching here takes it as pointing, by implication, to the pastor, the messenger responsible to receive and deliver Christ’s word to the congregation.
Then Jesus introduces Himself in terms drawn from Revelation 1: “These things says He who holds the seven stars in His right hand, who walks in the midst of the seven golden lampstands” (Revelation 2:1). Christ is not distant from His church. He holds His messengers and walks among His congregations. The One speaking is Lord of the church, present with the church, and authoritative over the church.
Christ’s evaluation begins with words every church wants to hear: “I know your works, your labor, your patience…” (Revelation 2:2). Their Christianity had muscles. They served. They endured. They did not become weary. They refused to tolerate evil. They practiced discernment: “You have tested those who say they are apostles and are not, and have found them liars” (Revelation 2:2). In other words, they took doctrine seriously. They were not naïve about false spiritual authority.
This connects directly to Paul’s tearful warning decades earlier. In Acts 20:28–31 Paul urged the elders of Ephesus to watch over themselves and the flock because “savage wolves” would come, and even from among their own ranks men would arise to draw disciples after themselves. The sermon highlights that, in many respects, the Ephesians obeyed Paul. They watched. They tested. They protected the flock. They bore hardship for Christ’s name and did not quit.
Yet Jesus speaks a single, devastating word that turns commendation into crisis: “Nevertheless…” (Revelation 2:4). The message calls that word heartbreaking. It means that something essential was missing, something no amount of busy faithfulness can replace: “I have this against you, that you have left your first love” (Revelation 2:4).
They had not necessarily abandoned Christian morality. They had not surrendered doctrinal boundaries. They had not stopped working. But they had left their first love, the warmth, devotion, and central affection for Christ that once animated everything they did. What once flowed from love had begun to operate on momentum. The church could identify error, oppose evil, and labor tirelessly, while the inner life cooled.
Jesus does not leave them without a clear path back. He gives three commands: “Remember therefore from where you have fallen; repent and do the first works” (Revelation 2:5). The remedy begins with honesty, recognizing that leaving first love is not a minor mood swing but a fall. Then repentance: not merely regret, but a turning back. And then a return to “first works”, the earlier expressions of devotion that once naturally sprang from love for Christ.
Christ also warns them with sobering seriousness: “Or else I will come to you quickly and remove your lampstand from its place, unless you repent” (Revelation 2:5). In the imagery of Revelation, the lampstand represents the church’s witness and standing as a light-bearing congregation. The warning is not that Christ stops loving His people, but that a church that refuses to return to love can lose its effective place as His visible witness. A congregation may continue outwardly while its lampstand, its Christ-given light and legitimacy, has been removed.
Even in rebuke, Jesus acknowledges what is commendable: “But this you have, that you hate the deeds of the Nicolaitans, which I also hate” (Revelation 2:6). The transcript does not expand here on the Nicolaitans beyond the fact that their deeds were detestable to Christ and that the Ephesians resisted them. The point stands: Jesus commends moral and doctrinal resistance to practices He hates. Yet the passage will not allow us to treat hatred of evil as a substitute for love of Christ.
The letter then turns outward to every church and every believer: “He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches” (Revelation 2:7). Though addressed to Ephesus, it is the Spirit speaking to all. And it ends with a promise: “To him who overcomes I will give to eat from the tree of life, which is in the midst of the Paradise of God” (Revelation 2:7). The reward is fellowship, life, and restoration, language that reaches back to Eden and forward to the final hope of God’s people.
The sermon’s own prayer at this point captures the aim of discipleship in Revelation: not merely to learn the structure, but to be changed, becoming a church with ears to hear, transformed from the inside out by the Word and the Holy Spirit.
Closing Prayer
Father, Your Word is beautiful, and we trust that it does not return void. Give us ears to hear what the Spirit says to the churches. Guard us from the tragedy of leaving our first love while remaining busy in outward labor. Help us to remember where we have fallen, to repent truly, and to return to the first works that flow from love for Jesus Christ. Keep our doctrine sound and our hearts tender, that our lampstand would shine brightly in the midst of darkness. Strengthen Your church to endure patiently for Your name’s sake without growing weary, and grant us grace to overcome, that we would share in the life You promise in Your Paradise. In Jesus’ name, amen.