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There are phrases in the Gospel that comfort, embrace, and lift up the soul. But there are also words of Christ that shake us, stir us deeply, and force us to look within ourselves honestly. One of the strongest, most direct, and most feared is the one that appears in the Book of Revelation:
“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 cold nor hot, I am about to spit you out of my mouth” (Revelation 3:15–16).
These words were not addressed to pagans, nor to enemies of God, nor to persecutors of the Church. They were addressed to a Christian community: the Church of Laodicea.
And that is precisely what should disturb us the most.
Christ is not speaking here about those who never knew Him, but about those who claim to believe, those who are inside, those who seem close… but live with their hearts far away.
Spiritual lukewarmness makes no noise. It does not scandalize. It usually does not attract attention. It is silent, comfortable, elegant, and even socially acceptable. But precisely for that reason, it is so dangerous.
The lukewarm soul usually does not rebel against God; it simply stops loving Him intensely.
And that, deep down, may be even more serious.
Today we live in an age where spiritual lukewarmness has become almost a cultural norm. A faith without demands, a morality without sacrifice, a religion without the Cross, a spirituality without conversion.
Many do not reject God; they simply relegate Him.
They do not deny Him; they postpone Him.
They do not fight Him; they cool Him down.
And Christ, who is Absolute Love, does not accept being loved halfway.
This article seeks to go deeply into this tremendous warning from Our Lord: what spiritual lukewarmness means, why it is so dangerous, how to recognize it in our lives, and above all, how to come out of it.
Because no one falls into lukewarmness overnight.
One gets there little by little.
And one also comes out of it little by little… but with determination.
Laodicea: The City to Which Christ Directed This Warning
To better understand this phrase, we must first look at its context.
Laodicea was a rich, prosperous, and self-sufficient city. It had great commercial activity, important banks, and a renowned textile industry. It was also famous for a medical school that produced a highly valued eye ointment.
It was a city proud of itself.
When it suffered a devastating earthquake in the year 60 A.D., it rejected help from the Roman Empire because it considered itself capable of rebuilding alone.
It was the symbol of self-sufficiency.
And it is precisely to that Christian community, settled in comfort and false security, that Christ says:
“For you say, I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing; not realizing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked” (Rev. 3:17).
Here lies the heart of the problem.
Lukewarmness is often born when we stop feeling our need for God.
When we believe we are already fine.
When we think we no longer need conversion.
When we get used to a superficial faith that does not truly transform life.
Laodicea had lukewarm water because of its water supply system: it was neither fresh like the water of Colossae nor hot like that of Hierapolis. It was unpleasant.
Christ uses that everyday image to express a profound spiritual reality.
Lukewarm faith produces spiritual nausea.
Not because God stops loving, but because true love cannot coexist with settled indifference.
What Is Spiritual Lukewarmness Really?
Lukewarmness is not weakness.
It is not falling and getting up again.
It is not struggling and suffering.
It is not having temptations.
It is not feeling tired.
All of that is part of Christian life.
Lukewarmness is something else.
It is the voluntary settling into accepted spiritual mediocrity.
It is stopping the fight.
It is making peace with small sin.
It is settling for the minimum.
It is praying without soul.
It is confessing without true repentance.
It is receiving Communion without hunger for God.
It is living a faith of habit and not of love.
The lukewarm soul does not usually commit great scandals. Its drama is not the fire of visible sin, but the elegant ice of indifference.
Saint Thomas Aquinas relates this reality to spiritual acedia: a sadness of the soul before divine goods.
The lukewarm person finds no joy in God.
Prayer feels heavy.
Mass becomes boring.
Moral demands become annoying.
Holiness becomes uncomfortable.
Such a person prefers a comfortable religion, manageable and without too much commitment.
They do not want to completely abandon God, but neither do they want to surrender completely.
They want a faith without radicality.
And Christ did not come to found a comfortable religion, but to save souls.
The Great Deception: “I’m Not That Bad”
One of the favorite phrases of the lukewarm soul is this:
“Well… I’m not that bad.”
And here appears one of the most subtle deceptions of the devil.
Comparing ourselves with others instead of comparing ourselves with Christ.
“I don’t kill.”
“I don’t steal.”
“I don’t hurt anyone.”
“I’m not worse than others.”
But Christianity does not simply consist in avoiding major sins.
It consists in loving.
And love demands totality.
Christ did not say:
“Be reasonably decent people.”
He said:
“Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matt. 5:48).
This is not about neurotic perfectionism, but about the vocation to holiness.
Lukewarmness reduces the Gospel to a morality of minimums.
Holiness raises it to a response of maximum love.
It is not enough not to betray.
One must love.
It is not enough not to offend.
One must give oneself.
It is not enough to avoid hell.
One must desire Heaven.
Lukewarmness in Our Time: A Silent Epidemic
Perhaps never before has spiritual lukewarmness been so normalized.
We live in a culture of “more or less.”
More or less I believe.
More or less I pray.
More or less I practice.
More or less I am Catholic.
More or less I follow Christ.
But the Gospel does not allow half measures.
Today many seek a spirituality that does not disturb.
An emotional, personalized religion without renunciation.
People want Christ as therapist, but not Christ as King.
An inspiring Jesus, but not a Lord who demands conversion.
A decorative cross, but not a cross that must be carried.
Even within the Church there is the risk of domesticating the Gospel to make it socially acceptable.
There is much talk about well-being and little about sin.
Much about self-esteem and little about penance.
Much about inclusion and little about conversion.
Much about tolerance and little about truth.
Modern lukewarmness does not always deny doctrine; often it simply empties it of urgency.
And a Christianity without fire ends up being only a cultural habit.
Signs That a Soul May Be Falling into Lukewarmness
It is good to examine ourselves honestly.
Some frequent signs are:
Prayer becomes an empty formality
One prays out of habit, without attention or real desire to encounter God.
Formulas are fulfilled, but the heart is absent.
Deliberate venial sin is constantly justified
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s a small thing.”
“Everyone does it.”
That is how invisible chains are built.
The horror of sin is lost
What once hurt now seems normal.
Conscience falls asleep.
Every sacrifice is avoided
The Cross becomes bothersome.
Mortification seems outdated.
Comfort rules.
Confession becomes infrequent or superficial
Not because there is no sin, but because there is no serious examination.
Mass stops being the center
One goes if it is convenient.
If not, there will be another day.
Faith becomes privatized
Christ is locked away in the private sphere, without real consequences in public, family, and moral life.
These signs should not lead us to despair, but to conversion.
Recognizing the illness is already the beginning of healing.
The Saints and Their Battle Against Lukewarmness
The saints have spoken with enormous clarity about this subject.
Saint Alphonsus Maria de Liguori said that God patiently tolerates the sinner who struggles, but voluntary lukewarmness is especially dangerous because the soul stops wanting to be healed.
Saint Teresa of Ávila warned:
“May God deliver us from foolish devotions.”
That is, a superficial, sentimental religiosity without true interior transformation.
Saint Josemaría Escrivá wrote:
“Lukewarmness is the gravest illness of the soul.”
Because while the great sinner may convert dramatically, the lukewarm person usually thinks he does not need to change.
Saint Ignatius of Loyola insisted on daily examination precisely to combat that progressive settling into mediocrity.
The saint is not the one who never falls.
It is the one who never gets used to falling.
That is the difference.
How to Come Out of Spiritual Lukewarmness
Here lies the great hope.
Lukewarmness is not a definitive condemnation.
Christ does not denounce in order to humiliate, but to awaken.
After that very harsh phrase in Revelation, He says something wonderful:
“Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline” (Rev. 3:19).
Christ’s correction is born of love.
He does not shake us because He rejects us, but because He does not want to lose us.
Coming out of lukewarmness requires concrete decisions.
1. Recover Serious Examination of Conscience
Not superficial.
Not automatic.
Truly ask ourselves:
Do I love God or do I simply manage Him?
Am I fighting or have I surrendered?
Do I want to be holy or only appear correct?
Sincerity is the beginning.
2. Return to Frequent Confession
Confession is not only for grave sins.
It is medicine for the soul.
It is a school of humility.
It is a fire that breaks the crust of indifference.
Many rediscover their spiritual life when they return to good confession.
3. Pray Even When You Do Not Feel Like It
The lukewarm soul usually waits to “feel like it.”
But true love does not depend on enthusiasm.
Fidelity is worth more than emotion.
Praying when it is difficult purifies the heart.
4. Introduce Voluntary Sacrifice
Small mortifications.
Concrete renunciations.
Interior discipline.
Perpetual comfort weakens the soul.
The accepted Cross strengthens it.
5. Seek Spiritual Direction
Many times we do not see our own lukewarmness.
We need an external, wise, and faithful взгляд.
Spiritual life should not be lived in isolation.
6. Contemplate Christ Crucified More Often
Nothing breaks lukewarmness more than seriously looking at the Cross.
Before Christ crucified, our excuses collapse.
He was not lukewarm in loving us.
He did not give Himself halfway.
He did not suffer superficially.
He loved us to the end.
And whoever contemplates that in truth can no longer continue living the same way.
The Virgin Mary: The Perfect Antidote Against Lukewarmness
Mary was never lukewarm.
Her fiat was not moderate.
It was total.
It was radical.
It was absolute.
She did not say:
“I will do what I can.”
She said:
“Let it be done to me according to your word.”
Her whole life was availability.
Her entire existence was ardor.
Her whole motherhood was self-giving.
That is why turning to Mary is such a powerful medicine against spiritual mediocrity.
She does not let us settle.
She always leads us to Christ.
She teaches us to respond with totality.
A Marian soul cannot live comfortably in lukewarmness for long.
Because Mary always pushes us toward the fire of true love.
A Final Question We Cannot Avoid
At the end of this topic, it is not enough to admire the force of this phrase.
We must let it judge us.
Christ did not say this to decorate religious paintings.
He said it so that each one may ask:
Am I cold?
Am I fervent?
Or have I become lukewarm?
The worst answer is not to recognize our poverty.
The worst answer is not wanting to see it.
Because the great danger of the lukewarm person is not being far from God.
It is believing he is already close enough.
And perhaps today the Lord repeats to us:
“I know your works…”
Not to destroy us.
But to awaken us.
Because we are still in time.
Still.
As long as there is a desire to return, there is hope.
As long as there is humility, there is a path.
As long as there is repentance, there is mercy.
But let us not play with the fire of spiritual mediocrity.
Because Christ did not come to make us merely religious.
He came to make us saints.
And holiness does not begin when we stop committing grave sins.
It begins when we stop settling for loving little.
