The world won’t be expecting Him when He comes—just like the moment before lightning cracks across a blue sky, bright as mercy. Just like a heartbeat before an earthquake shakes the ground.
That’s what Scripture says. “For you yourselves know very well that the day of the Lord will come just like a thief in the night. While people are saying, ‘Peace and security,’ sudden destruction will come upon them…” (1 Thessalonians 5:2-3). In other words: just when the world feels most at ease, heaven stirs.
We tend to imagine Jesus’ return like the end of a movie—credits roll, conflict resolved, happily ever after. But the Bible paints a more layered picture. The Second Coming isn’t the end—it’s the beginning of a Great Reckoning.
One fall afternoon, I sat beside my grandfather’s hospital bed. Machines hummed softly, measuring life. He opened his eyes just long enough to grasp my hand and whisper one word: “Ready.” He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t uncertain. He had lived with his eyes fixed on a Savior who promised to come again. I remember thinking, That’s the kind of peace I want when my time comes.
And it reminded me—those who are ready don’t dread the return of Jesus.
John caught a glimpse of that return. He wrote about it from an island prison, exiled and alone, and yet what he saw in his vision was anything but lonely. “Then I saw heaven opened,” he begins in Revelation 19:11, “and there was a white horse. Its rider is called Faithful and True… His eyes were like a fiery flame… and on his robe and on his thigh He has a name written: King of Kings and Lord of Lords.”
This is not Sunday School Jesus. Not a weary carpenter or a silent lamb. This is the risen Christ, returned in might and splendor—our warrior King. And He comes with purpose. His feet touch down on the Mount of Olives, just as Zechariah prophesied: “On that day his feet will stand on the Mount of Olives, east of Jerusalem… The LORD will be king over the whole earth” (Zechariah 14:4, 9).
What happens after Jesus returns? A war is stopped before it starts. Evil is not debated—it is defeated. Revelation says He “strikes the nations,” not with weapons of steel, but “with a sharp sword that comes from His mouth”—His words, His judgment, His truth (Revelation 19:15). Those who gathered to war against the Lamb are undone. Not by politics or persuasion—but by power.
That might sound harsh. But consider this: how else could justice truly come? Every generation cries out for it. Every person who has suffered under tyranny, or buried a child they shouldn’t have lost, or wept at the hands of cruelty—in every heart there is a question: Will Someone make this right? The answer is yes. Yes, He will.
But it doesn’t happen in quiet. It happens in glory.
And here’s the bend in the road where many have fallen asleep: Jesus’s return isn’t soft. It’s not sentimental. It’s stunning, searing, irrefutable. And it leaves no room for pretense. That’s why Paul warned, “Peace and security…” would be the lullaby the world sings right before it wakes up to judgment.
Still, it’s not fear we’re summoned to—it’s readiness. Anticipation. Hope.
Maybe you’ve felt like the world is spiraling too far, like things are unraveling too fast. Maybe you’ve whispered the words, “Come, Lord Jesus,” under your breath as the news plays in the background. If so, you’re not alone.
Here’s what we know: Jesus doesn’t come to abandon His world. He returns to redeem it. Not as a baby in a manger this time—but as a rightful King, full of truth and justice. And His arrival means an end to deception. An end to violence. An end to the long, aching night of waiting.
A friend of mine once said, “The hardest part of hope is the holding on.” And I think that's true. But isn’t it also where faith does its deepest work?
So we wait. We watch. Not in dread, but in devotion. We live with lamps full of oil, hearts prepared, like those who know the groom is coming.
Because He is.
And when He comes, it won’t be subtle. It won’t be secret. It will be the unraveling of evil, the exaltation of Christ, and the restoration of everything that’s been broken.
Don’t be afraid of that day. Be found in the One who rides the white horse.
Because He doesn’t only come to judge—He comes to reign. Forever.
The world won’t be expecting Him when He comes—just like the moment before lightning cracks across a blue sky, bright as mercy. Just like a heartbeat before an earthquake shakes the ground.
That’s what Scripture says. “For you yourselves know very well that the day of the Lord will come just like a thief in the night. While people are saying, ‘Peace and security,’ sudden destruction will come upon them…” (1 Thessalonians 5:2-3). In other words: just when the world feels most at ease, heaven stirs.
We tend to imagine Jesus’ return like the end of a movie—credits roll, conflict resolved, happily ever after. But the Bible paints a more layered picture. The Second Coming isn’t the end—it’s the beginning of a Great Reckoning.
One fall afternoon, I sat beside my grandfather’s hospital bed. Machines hummed softly, measuring life. He opened his eyes just long enough to grasp my hand and whisper one word: “Ready.” He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t uncertain. He had lived with his eyes fixed on a Savior who promised to come again. I remember thinking, That’s the kind of peace I want when my time comes.
And it reminded me—those who are ready don’t dread the return of Jesus.
John caught a glimpse of that return. He wrote about it from an island prison, exiled and alone, and yet what he saw in his vision was anything but lonely. “Then I saw heaven opened,” he begins in Revelation 19:11, “and there was a white horse. Its rider is called Faithful and True… His eyes were like a fiery flame… and on his robe and on his thigh He has a name written: King of Kings and Lord of Lords.”
This is not Sunday School Jesus. Not a weary carpenter or a silent lamb. This is the risen Christ, returned in might and splendor—our warrior King. And He comes with purpose. His feet touch down on the Mount of Olives, just as Zechariah prophesied: “On that day his feet will stand on the Mount of Olives, east of Jerusalem… The LORD will be king over the whole earth” (Zechariah 14:4, 9).
What happens after Jesus returns? A war is stopped before it starts. Evil is not debated—it is defeated. Revelation says He “strikes the nations,” not with weapons of steel, but “with a sharp sword that comes from His mouth”—His words, His judgment, His truth (Revelation 19:15). Those who gathered to war against the Lamb are undone. Not by politics or persuasion—but by power.
That might sound harsh. But consider this: how else could justice truly come? Every generation cries out for it. Every person who has suffered under tyranny, or buried a child they shouldn’t have lost, or wept at the hands of cruelty—in every heart there is a question: Will Someone make this right? The answer is yes. Yes, He will.
But it doesn’t happen in quiet. It happens in glory.
And here’s the bend in the road where many have fallen asleep: Jesus’s return isn’t soft. It’s not sentimental. It’s stunning, searing, irrefutable. And it leaves no room for pretense. That’s why Paul warned, “Peace and security…” would be the lullaby the world sings right before it wakes up to judgment.
Still, it’s not fear we’re summoned to—it’s readiness. Anticipation. Hope.
Maybe you’ve felt like the world is spiraling too far, like things are unraveling too fast. Maybe you’ve whispered the words, “Come, Lord Jesus,” under your breath as the news plays in the background. If so, you’re not alone.
Here’s what we know: Jesus doesn’t come to abandon His world. He returns to redeem it. Not as a baby in a manger this time—but as a rightful King, full of truth and justice. And His arrival means an end to deception. An end to violence. An end to the long, aching night of waiting.
A friend of mine once said, “The hardest part of hope is the holding on.” And I think that's true. But isn’t it also where faith does its deepest work?
So we wait. We watch. Not in dread, but in devotion. We live with lamps full of oil, hearts prepared, like those who know the groom is coming.
Because He is.
And when He comes, it won’t be subtle. It won’t be secret. It will be the unraveling of evil, the exaltation of Christ, and the restoration of everything that’s been broken.
Don’t be afraid of that day. Be found in the One who rides the white horse.
Because He doesn’t only come to judge—He comes to reign. Forever.
