At thirteen, Josh found an old Bible on his grandfather’s shelf—leather-worn, underlined, pages feathered from decades of use. But it wasn’t the Psalms or the stories of David and Goliath that caught his attention. It was the maps, and after them… the monsters.
A dragon. A beast. Thunder and scrolls and something about bowls of wrath.
He closed the book quickly.
“Too scary,” he whispered to himself. “Too confusing.”
Maybe you’ve felt that too. You’ve opened the final book of the Bible—the Book of Revelation—hoping for clarity, only to feel like you’d stepped into a dream you didn’t understand. The symbols are strange. The stories feel heavy. And somewhere along the way, you wonder if this is a book you’re even meant to read.
But listen to how Revelation begins:
“The revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave him to show his servants what must soon take place. He made it known by sending his angel to his servant John, who testifies to everything he saw—that is, the word of God and the testimony of Jesus Christ. Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear it and take to heart what is written in it…” (Revelation 1:1–3, NIV)
Did you catch that word near the end?
Blessed.
That’s the first surprise in this strange, marvelous book. It's not written to terrify—it’s written to bless. God didn’t tuck Revelation at the end of your Bible to frustrate or frighten you. He gave it as a gift… a unveiling, not a hiding.
That’s actually what the word “revelation” means: apocalypse, in the original Greek, simply means “unveiling” or “revealing.”
God is peeling back the curtain to show us Jesus—His victory, His return, His reign. This is not a horror story. It’s a love story that ends with a wedding. And a kingdom.
Yes, there are beasts and battles. But remember—every story has a villain, especially one with a hero worth watching.
At its center, Revelation is not about monsters. It’s about a Lamb.
And that’s the second surprise: when John sees the fulfillment of God’s justice and rescue, he doesn’t see a sword-wielding warrior first. He sees “a Lamb, looking as if it had been slain” (Revelation 5:6). The power of Revelation is not in its drama, but in a God who triumphs through sacrifice.
Still, let’s be honest—some passages are difficult to untangle. But even in the mystery, God makes a promise. Near the very end, Jesus Himself speaks: “These words are trustworthy and true… Behold, I am coming soon! Blessed is the one who keeps the words of the prophecy written in this scroll” (Revelation 22:6–7).
There’s that word again.
Blessed.
What if the strange parts weren’t meant to confuse you—but to slow you down, to invite wonder again?
Because that’s the posture Revelation calls for—not fear, but attentiveness. Not guessing games, but gazing at Jesus. In fact, some of the most beautiful worship passages in the Bible are tucked here, in poetic bursts of praise: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty,” “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain,” “Salvation belongs to our God.”
Revelation doesn’t want to show you evil’s strength. It wants to show you evil’s ending.
When the house goes quiet, when the headlines grow heavy, when the world feels like it’s unraveling—Revelation reminds us: it’s all going somewhere good.
I still remember sitting with a woman in hospice care who asked me, “How do I know this story ends in joy?” Her Bible lay on her lap, open to Revelation 21. She smiled through tears as we read together: “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain…”
That’s not fantasy. That’s the future.
Revelation is not a puzzle to solve. It’s a promise to hold.
So maybe today you pick it up again. Not to decode every symbol—but just to look for Jesus. And as you read, remember: before the chaos, before the crown, before anything else, this book is a letter… from Someone who loves you and wants you prepared, not panicked.
It begins with a blessing. It ends with a return. And all throughout, it sings—softly but clearly—“I am coming soon.”
And that doesn’t sound like terror to me.
That sounds like hope.
At thirteen, Josh found an old Bible on his grandfather’s shelf—leather-worn, underlined, pages feathered from decades of use. But it wasn’t the Psalms or the stories of David and Goliath that caught his attention. It was the maps, and after them… the monsters.
A dragon. A beast. Thunder and scrolls and something about bowls of wrath.
He closed the book quickly.
“Too scary,” he whispered to himself. “Too confusing.”
Maybe you’ve felt that too. You’ve opened the final book of the Bible—the Book of Revelation—hoping for clarity, only to feel like you’d stepped into a dream you didn’t understand. The symbols are strange. The stories feel heavy. And somewhere along the way, you wonder if this is a book you’re even meant to read.
But listen to how Revelation begins:
“The revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave him to show his servants what must soon take place. He made it known by sending his angel to his servant John, who testifies to everything he saw—that is, the word of God and the testimony of Jesus Christ. Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear it and take to heart what is written in it…” (Revelation 1:1–3, NIV)
Did you catch that word near the end?
Blessed.
That’s the first surprise in this strange, marvelous book. It's not written to terrify—it’s written to bless. God didn’t tuck Revelation at the end of your Bible to frustrate or frighten you. He gave it as a gift… a unveiling, not a hiding.
That’s actually what the word “revelation” means: apocalypse, in the original Greek, simply means “unveiling” or “revealing.”
God is peeling back the curtain to show us Jesus—His victory, His return, His reign. This is not a horror story. It’s a love story that ends with a wedding. And a kingdom.
Yes, there are beasts and battles. But remember—every story has a villain, especially one with a hero worth watching.
At its center, Revelation is not about monsters. It’s about a Lamb.
And that’s the second surprise: when John sees the fulfillment of God’s justice and rescue, he doesn’t see a sword-wielding warrior first. He sees “a Lamb, looking as if it had been slain” (Revelation 5:6). The power of Revelation is not in its drama, but in a God who triumphs through sacrifice.
Still, let’s be honest—some passages are difficult to untangle. But even in the mystery, God makes a promise. Near the very end, Jesus Himself speaks: “These words are trustworthy and true… Behold, I am coming soon! Blessed is the one who keeps the words of the prophecy written in this scroll” (Revelation 22:6–7).
There’s that word again.
Blessed.
What if the strange parts weren’t meant to confuse you—but to slow you down, to invite wonder again?
Because that’s the posture Revelation calls for—not fear, but attentiveness. Not guessing games, but gazing at Jesus. In fact, some of the most beautiful worship passages in the Bible are tucked here, in poetic bursts of praise: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty,” “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain,” “Salvation belongs to our God.”
Revelation doesn’t want to show you evil’s strength. It wants to show you evil’s ending.
When the house goes quiet, when the headlines grow heavy, when the world feels like it’s unraveling—Revelation reminds us: it’s all going somewhere good.
I still remember sitting with a woman in hospice care who asked me, “How do I know this story ends in joy?” Her Bible lay on her lap, open to Revelation 21. She smiled through tears as we read together: “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain…”
That’s not fantasy. That’s the future.
Revelation is not a puzzle to solve. It’s a promise to hold.
So maybe today you pick it up again. Not to decode every symbol—but just to look for Jesus. And as you read, remember: before the chaos, before the crown, before anything else, this book is a letter… from Someone who loves you and wants you prepared, not panicked.
It begins with a blessing. It ends with a return. And all throughout, it sings—softly but clearly—“I am coming soon.”
And that doesn’t sound like terror to me.
That sounds like hope.
