How does God awaken the dead? John Piper opens 1 Peter 1:13–25 to show that God grants new life through the gospel.

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It’s a typical Monday morning in Nagoya, Japan. I’m getting ready to leave for work while my daughter begins her English lesson with my wife. Then I hear her read an example sentence that stirs painful memories: “The speeding truck caused a terrible crash.”

As my daughter starts diagramming the sentence, I exit our apartment in a daze. That simple sentence transports me to a painful phone call I received ten years prior from a pastor at Bethlehem Baptist Church, breaking terrible news: The Pals family, who were weeks away from joining our mission team, had been killed. A semi ran into their van while they were in traffic.

Jamison, the father, had prayed, waited, and worked for years, seeking an opportunity to serve in Japan. His wife, Kathryne, had waited faithfully along with him, enduring the delivery of a third child and cancer surgery during their preparations to begin service. They had just finished raising support and were on their way to Colorado for their last required training before Japan — finally. They hoped for a long tenure of service.

A picture of the family, taken shortly before their passing, still hangs in my office: Jamison and Kathryne seated on a porch, smiling, their arms filled with three precious, small children — Ezra, Violet, and Calvin. When I arrive at work and see the photo, I feel their loss afresh, ten years later.

Ten Years of Ministry

The Pals family did not pass from this world unnoticed. Their story deeply impacted many, and God has used it to establish a legacy of ministry over the past decade. New missionaries were motivated and mobilized after hearing their story. Many mission-goers and mission-senders have been blessed reading the thoughtful reflections on missions that Jamison wrote on their blog, “Joy of Japan.” The blog has been translated into Japanese, inspiring believers from other cultures. A new ministry for church planting and revitalization — the Joy of Japan Center for Church Planting and Development — was founded in Japan in their honor. The center serves to train new church planters and strengthen existing pastors across Japan.

The Pals’s extended families have supported many of these endeavors significantly; the investment of the Pals family in Japanese missions continues ten years later. Yet the impact of the Pals’s story is not just one of ministry — it has also been very personal. God has used them to strengthen my own calling as a missionary and a follower of Christ in important ways.

Great Glory, Great Mystery

One key truth the Lord has impressed on my heart through the Pals’s story is that Christians live for eternity, and the work of global missions is truly worthwhile. Jamison captures this in a “second proposal” he wrote to Kathryne, inviting her to pursue missions in Japan together:

Kathryne, I am asking you to go with me. Let’s go . . . or at least let us do everything in our power to go. The Lord may see fit to keep us here, but if he does not, let’s go. It may cost us much, but would you have it any other way? Whatever we lose will be worth it if we gain more of Christ.

Jamison is exactly right. There is no greater gain than gaining Christ. Confident of this, their family gave away or sold their belongings, gathered their small children close, and set out on a journey of faith knowing it would eventually end in eternity. Jamison closed his letter to Kathryne with a quote from his favorite Puritan, Samuel Rutherford:

How soon will some few years pass away, and then when the day is ended, and this life’s lease expired, what have men of the world’s glory, but dreams and thoughts? O happy soul forevermore, who can rightly compare this life with that long-lasting life to come, and can balance the weighty glory of the one with the light golden vanity of the other.

The Pals family demonstrated the calling each missionary shares, whether we articulate it this way or not. Eyes fixed on the beauty of Christ, we measure eternal glory as greater than temporary vanity in hopes of seeing his gospel proclaimed to the nations.

However, the weightiness of this glory coincides with a heaviness in this world that should not be overlooked. Ten years later, I am still grieved by the news that a speeding truck caused a terrible crash. Why did God choose to call the Pals family home in such a way? Why did he call them home and leave others like me to remain? I have (sinfully) sought to pry answers to God’s mysteries from his hand, but he reminds me that there are things in this world I am not permitted to know.

Meanwhile, he has reminded me that amid the mystery there are “precious and very great promises” we do get to know (2 Peter 1:4), and he rejoices to proclaim them to us through his word. He delivers new mercies every morning that demonstrate his steadfast love and faithfulness (Lamentations 3:22–23); he assures us that “the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us” (Romans 8:18). But the details of our particular sufferings and his particular mercies are not for us to choose. In the mystery, I am both kindly invited and firmly reminded to take God at his word — to trust.

For Japan’s Joy and Mine

Several months after I received the call about the Pals family, I realized somewhat suddenly that I was having a nervous breakdown. My nerves were literally malfunctioning due to stress, and I developed a slew of physical symptoms. The symptoms had already started to manifest before the Pals family was taken home, but things accelerated after I returned from their memorial service. I remember looking at my hands one day in August, watching them tremble uncontrollably.

Looking back ten years later, I can see that the Pals’s sudden passing served to expose my greatest fears. My children’s lives are not in my hands, my wife’s life is not in my hands, the fruitfulness of my ministry is not in my hands, and my own life is not in my hands. God lovingly exposed my fears — and showed me that they were not irrational (“That would never happen”). Rather, they were hyper-rational (“Anything can happen”). Then he invited me to trust him anyway, as he had patiently proven himself to be trustworthy over and over again. I praise God for how he has used one family’s story to shape my own life and calling for the glory of God and the joy of Japan.

I’d been a believer for a year when I met Walt. He captivated a crowd when he preached. His counsel was pivotal in my life, and God used him to strengthen my young faith. But Walt turned out to be a hypocrite. After proclaiming God’s glory, he’d visit prostitutes on his way home to his wife. After his divorce, he stole another man’s wife. Walt’s downfall disoriented me. How could I be so helped by a man who was such a hypocrite?

Sadly, it wouldn’t be the last time I faced this question. When I was in seminary, the godliest girl I knew married an unbeliever and walked away from Christ. An apologist who bolstered my belief turned out to be an abusive adulterer. The composer of one of my favorite hymns left his family and renounced the faith. The author of a life-transforming book on holiness abandoned his profession and now celebrates immorality. A spiritual father failed morally and vanished from public ministry.

Hypocrites like these leave confused followers wondering, “What happened? Were they ever believers at all? How could they speak so helpfully while living so deceitfully? Can I still believe the lessons they taught?”

Hypocrisy Unmasked

Our word “hypocrite” comes from the Greek hypokritēs, which referred to an actor who wore a mask to perform a part in a play. Hypocrites, therefore, are mask-wearers who adopt one identity while living another.

Scripture does not hide its hypocrites. Demas once made disciples but later forsook Jesus for the world (2 Timothy 4:10). Judas led people to Jesus and then sold him for silver (Matthew 26:14–16). Hymenaeus likely sang hymns with the church he later tried to deceive (2 Timothy 2:16–18). Something happened with these men that derailed their devotion. Unaddressed sin, unconfessed compromises, and overlooked commandments eventually took their toll, and their shipwrecked faith left confounded sheep in its wake (1 Timothy 1:19–20).

Not all hypocrisy is the same. Some apostatize, denying the faith they once proclaimed or refusing to repent of sin instead of obeying the Savior (1 John 2:19). Others, like Peter, truly believe but allow the heat of the moment to overcome their faith-filled intentions (Luke 22:54–62). They go out weeping bitterly.

Regardless of how their hypocrisy unfolded, we wrestle with swirling questions about their soul, their teaching, and the God they told us about. Satan wants to stoke skepticism so we’ll also abandon Jesus. But rather than succumb to his scheme, we must turn to Jesus instead.

1. Jesus warned us about hypocrites.

Hypocrisy among professing believers should sadden but not surprise us. Jesus told us it was coming. He warned us to “beware” of hypocrites (Luke 12:1). He knew we would need his warning because they hide like wolves disguised as sheep (Matthew 7:15). They slip into our fellowship unnoticed (Jude 4), appearing to be holy yet unclean as a tomb (Matthew 23:27–28).

But our surprise over specific leaders does make sense. We never thought that person would be a hypocrite. Satan wants to take advantage of our surprise and stir doubt about Jesus’s trustworthiness too. Do not fall into his trap. Jesus’s caution is evidence that we can trust him. He is a good shepherd. Hear his warnings as loving protection, and don’t give ear to the evil one.

2. Jesus endured the harm of hypocrites.

God created us to trust spiritual authority. He gives us leaders to help us hear his voice and know how to walk with him. This is why their betrayals hurt so much. Sorrow moves us to groan like David, “It is you . . . my companion, my familiar friend” (Psalm 55:13).

Allow your grief to turn you to Jesus. He also endured the sorrow of hypocrisy. What was it like meeting in the garden with the disciples, knowing that Judas would one day guide his capturers there (John 18:2)? How did he feel watching Judas pretend to care about the poor while pilfering from the money bag (John 12:4–6)? What did he think during fellowship meals, knowing Judas would soon depart to sell him for silver (John 13:30)?

We don’t know exactly what Jesus experienced, but we do know he withstood it all without sin (1 Peter 2:22). He endured the harm of hypocrites without falling into cynicism, bitterness, or unbelief. He sympathizes with your sorrow, supplies comfort in your confusion, and gives you grace to recover from their fall (Hebrews 4:15–16). Come to Jesus: His ministry will not harm you.

3. Jesus warned about our own hypocrisy.

When others are exposed as frauds, we can feel superior. Our hearts can cry out, “God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this [pastoral hypocrite]” (Luke 18:11).

Never forget Paul’s warning: “Let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall” (1 Corinthians 10:12). None of us is safe from sin. Doubting this truth reveals the kind of pride that often precedes a fall (Proverbs 16:18). This is why Jesus commands humble self-examination before we examine others’ lives (Matthew 7:1–5). When a spiritual leader falls into sin, it should move us to fall before the Savior and plead for protection.

But do not assume their compromises mean your fall is inevitable. A friend recently learned of a spiritual hero’s disqualification. He assumed that if his hero couldn’t make it, neither could he. But that’s not true. Jesus is the never-failing hero who can help us be sobered but not fatalistic. Jesus “is able to keep you from stumbling” (Jude 24). So, humble yourself and draw near to him for help.

4. Jesus told us how to treat a hypocrite’s teaching.

Shortly before his betrayal, Jesus addressed the teaching of hypocrites: “The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat, so do and observe whatever they tell you, but not the works they do. For they preach, but do not practice” (Matthew 23:2–3). Jesus prepared his disciples to distinguish between the message and the messenger. Fallen leaders tempt us to doubt that God’s truth is always trustworthy. But Matthew Henry counsels us, “We must not think the worse of good truths for their being preached by bad ministers.”

We’re told instead to “test the spirits” (1 John 4:1) and “test everything; hold fast what is good” (1 Thessalonians 5:21). Like the Bereans, we should examine the Scriptures to see whether what we have been taught is so (Acts 17:11). You may find the collapse of some teacher was not disconnected from his doctrine but was the bitter fruit of compromised convictions. Other hypocrites may have developed a frightening ability to speak truly while living callously. Either way, Jesus’s lesson remains: God’s truth cannot be undermined by a compromiser’s failure. Remember that it was God who ultimately ministered his word to you (1 Corinthians 3:5–7). Even if they preached with corrupt motives, the Christ whom they proclaimed is real and faithful (Philippians 1:15–18).

Wrestling with God’s truth afresh serves your soul. It takes your eyes off your questions about the fallen messenger and fixes them on God’s infallible message. In this way, Satan overplays his hand. If you come in faith to seek the true Jesus in his word, you will find him. Spiritual maturity is developed as we learn “to distinguish good from evil” (Hebrews 5:14). In this way, a hypocrite’s fall drives the roots of your faith deeper into streams of living water, producing a firmer planting and a more fruitful life (Psalm 1:2–3). God shows himself to be more desirable and more satisfying.

5. Jesus taught us whom to build our life upon.

We can be helped by teachers, but we must not place our hope in them. As the prophet Jeremiah warned, “Cursed is the man who trusts in man” (Jeremiah 17:5). Only Jesus is worthy of our full confidence. Jesus once told a tale of two builders. One built his life upon the rock of Jesus’s teachings. The other did not. Eventually, a storm blew in, and the one founded on Christ withstood the floods and winds. Those who build elsewhere eventually learn the lesson of the old hymn: “All other ground is sinking sand.”

The apostle Paul challenges shaky faith built on unworthy foundations: “What if some were unfaithful? Does their faithlessness nullify the faithfulness of God? By no means! Let God be true though every one were a liar” (Romans 3:3–4). If we are standing on anything other than Christ, we need our insecurity exposed so we can build upon the rock that never moves.

6. Jesus never succumbed to hypocrisy.

Leaders may fail you, but Jesus never does. The author of Hebrews exhorts us, “Remember your leaders, those who spoke to you the word of God. Consider the outcome of their way of life, and imitate their faith” (Hebrews 13:7). Leaders should live in such a way that invites imitation. So, when they fail, it disorients us. Their voice, once a source of spiritual help, has become a source of spiritual harm. That’s partly why the author of Hebrews follows his exhortation with this word of assurance: “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever” (Hebrews 13:8). Keep your eyes on Jesus. He has always been, is now, and forever shall be the holy, unchanging, faithful one.

I was helped by the hypocrites when they pointed me to Jesus. And strangely, I was helped by them when they fell, because their fall forced me to flee afresh to Jesus. And he’s always faithful. So, even as you grieve the fall of your heroes in the faith, keep your eyes on Jesus. All other ground is sinking sand.

How does God intend for us to deal with tragedy in the news? Pastor John offers six reasons why suffering should drive us to repentance and action.

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Is there any hope against sin’s power? John Piper shows from 1 John 3:1–10 how God the Son became man to destroy the devil’s works.

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Why don’t you read the Bible? Let me tell you two tragic tales and see if you can spot the answer.

Once upon a time, a warrior partook in the world’s oddest siege. His army had no war machines or clever engines to topple the great walls that stood between them and victory. They had something better — the word of their God. For days, this warrior and his comrades merely marched around their fortified foe, singing great songs but swinging no swords. On the seventh day, they walked longer and sang louder, and (true to his word) their God made those walls fall like a sandcastle at high tide.

But for this warrior, triumph opened onto tragedy. God had put one stipulation on victory: Leave all the loot. But all the shiny stuff proved too alluring. Perhaps it was just greed, perhaps he was worried about his family, perhaps he thought no one would notice — whatever the case, the warrior stole some gold. His story didn’t end well.

The second tale revolves around a strong man — by all accounts, the strongest man. He also was promised victory by the word of his God and given a few stipulations: no alcohol, no haircuts, no dead bodies. With strength like a god (from his God), this man’s feats are legendary. One time, he slew a thousand men solo. Another time, he casually broke through ropes. Once, a lion attacked him, and he tore that king of the jungle apart with his bare hands. But later, he returned to the carcass and found it full of honey, which he ate. I’m sure you see the problem: no dead bodies. This snack marked the start of his long decline. His end was also tragic.

Did you catch the common thread that ties these stories together? Both Achan and Samson considered something else better than the word of God. Achan saw a city full of gold and thought, More desirable. Samson saw a carcass full of honey and thought, More delightful. Both men had tragically bad taste. Both were far too easily pleased.

Bad Excuses

If we’re honest, we neglect the Bible for the same reasons: because we find something either more desirable or more delightful than God’s word. Sure, the consequences may not be as spectacular as Achan’s or Samson’s, but, if we’re honest, our excuses are just as lame. I’m too busy. I’m not feeling it. Understanding is hard. I just can’t focus. These are no better than Ooh, shiny! or Oh, sweet! They share the same tragic taste.

Thanks be to God that the Bible itself cultivates our taste for something far better. Listen to how David describes God’s words:

More to be desired are they than gold,
     even much fine gold;
sweeter also than honey
     and drippings of the honeycomb.
Moreover, by them is your servant warned;
     in keeping them there is great reward. (Psalm 19:10–11)

More desirable. More delightful. More rewarding. When David compares God’s instruction with other things, the book always tips the scale — and it’s not even close. Notice, these are objective statements, not subjective experiences. Yes, David does indeed experience God’s word as better than gold (Psalm 119:72) and sweeter than honey (Psalm 119:103), but that’s not what he’s saying here. He’s saying they are — really, ontologically, whether you feel it or not — better and sweeter.

In other words, when we (like Achan and Samson) find other things more delightful or desirable than Scripture, the problem is not Scripture; the problem is us. This is good news, because taste can change; godly taste can be cultivated. And that’s exactly what David is trying to do when he describes God’s word: He’s trying to help us taste and see that the word is good. So, let’s follow him.

More Desirable

David is a poet, and like any good poet, he lives on metaphors. Here, he reveals the desirability of Scripture by comparing it to gold. So, what makes gold so desirable?

First and foremost, gold (like any kind of wealth) is a measure of accessibility, of your capacity to acquire what you want. With a pile of caveats, the gold in your vault indicates how many of your desires you can fulfill. You want a hamburger? Pull out your wallet. You want wagyu steak? Write the check. You want fresh pizza from Italy for dinner tonight? Hand over the dough. Gold is desirable because it can fulfill desires. But not all of them — and (as anyone on Forbes’s Billionaire List could tell you) none of the most important ones.

That’s why Scripture is more desirable than gold: It meets deeper desires. The most piercing of these desires is the ache to know and enjoy God himself, which cannot (truly) happen apart from God’s words. We see this clearly in Psalm 19. The first six verses are all about general revelation. Interestingly, we only hear about “God” in this section, glorious but general. It is not until David turns his attention to specific revelation that we find reference to Yahweh, the personal name of the triune God. This indicates that in God’s own spoken words we find the fullest picture of the God we so desire to know, a portrait that is filled out in the face of Jesus Christ.

The gold metaphor goes deeper. We could talk about the beauty of gold (it glorifies whatever it adorns), or the splendor of gold (it amplifies light), or the enduring value of gold (it is not Bitcoin). But the point is this: If the guard at Fort Knox (or Jericho) offered you a key to the vault in exchange for access to God’s word, you’d be as foolish as Achan to take the deal. The math is simple: Scripture > gold. God’s words are more desirable than gold because they have the capacity to meet deeper desires than gold.

More Delightful

What is your favorite sweet? Perhaps a Krispy Kreme donut, or perfectly ripe strawberries, or hot chocolate that tastes like it took 1,200 years to get right. David never tasted any of those things, but if he had, he would have said, “Scripture is sweeter.” That’s mainly what he’s trying to capture with his comparison to honey. However much you delight in your favorite drink or dessert, God’s words are objectively more delightful. We just need (and should pray for) the spiritual taste buds to savor them.

But honey has other virtues that thicken the comparison. When we eat honey, it imparts health (Proverbs 16:24). It sparks energy and brightens eyes (1 Samuel 14:27). And to top it off, honey never spoils. At every point of comparison, Scripture takes the cake. It revives the soul (Psalm 19:7), enlightens the eyes (Psalm 19:8), and endures forever (Psalm 19:9). Far more than the perfect cup of coffee or sweet treat, when we eat God’s words, they delight our hearts (Psalm 19:8; see Jeremiah 15:16).

Dear reader, haven’t you tasted this sweetness? Haven’t your eyes brightened at the promise that those who wait on the Lord will soar like eagles (Isaiah 40:31)? Hasn’t your soul been revived by the assurance “I am with you always” (Matthew 28:20)? Haven’t you bounced off the walls at the words “So have I loved you” (John 15:9)? Haven’t you delighted in the never-spoiling guarantee “Surely I am coming soon” (Revelation 22:20)? All this honey — and so much more! — is there for the taking if you will but take up and read.

Unblushing Promises of Reward

Yet, like Achan and Samson before us, we conjure up excuses to ignore or neglect God’s word. I suspect if any of these came to the ear of David, he would say, “In keeping God’s word there is great reward (Psalm 19:11). You’re too busy making a living? Too distracted by your phone? Too catechized by entertainment culture to read well?” He would shake his head. “No, you’re not. You’re just too easily pleased.”

Saint, don’t settle for the tragic taste of Achan or Samson. God woos us to his word with unblushing promises of reward; take hold of them. God invites you to come eat and drink his words (Isaiah 55:1–3). They are more desirable than gold; they are sweeter than honey. In keeping them there is great reward.

So, why don’t you read the Bible?

This article contains spoilers, about the end of the movie and about the end of time. The first may ruin your surprise; the latter may save your soul. The following is not a movie review or retelling of the epic, but rather an exploration of how the climactic scene of Homer’s epic tale anticipates the surprising end of all history in the real-life return of Christ. What resonates in one epic will actually come to pass in the other.

In the new motion-picture version of The Odyssey, one of the most successful directors of our generation pairs with an all-star cast and the GDP of a small nation to bring us into the Mediterranean Sea to journey home with Odysseus following the Trojan War (the one with the big wooden horse). After offending the god Poseidon, he sails through his various storms and combats brutal enemies, all to return home to a waiting wife and kingdom in Ithaca.

Like the book, the movie is violent (rated R) and unsuitable for children and some adults. Moreover, purists who recently read the epic poem to brush up on their Western Civ will surely notice discrepancies that provoke disappointment. Others will be unimpressed by a transgender actress playing a male soldier. Still others will decline to see an adaptation of a Greek epic featuring a smattering of African, Indian, and Asian actors and actresses. Some cannot look past these blemishes, and in an entertainment market inundated with progressive agendas, the fatigue is understandable.

Sailing on.

The Return of Odysseus

The climactic scene, as readers of Homer know, is the bloodiest.

Odysseus, twenty years gone, returns to his homeland alone. His fleet of ships is destroyed and his men have died, slain in the multifarious ways that only a Greek epic can record. But his problems have not come to an end. He has fought a ten-year war, has been hurled about by a provoked god of the sea, has faced giants and witches and sirens and goddesses all bent upon his never returning home. Still, at least one hundred more complications are in his house. Eating his food. Seducing his servant girls. Hunting his wife. Plotting against his son.

Suitors swarm Penelope, his bride, like flies on raw meat. They vie with one another for the hand of the queen. Odysseus’s allies are few in the kingdom now that he is presumed dead. His son is young and wears a target on his back. The greedy, ambitious, proud suitors are a small army bent on one ascending to the throne. Even the mighty Odysseus cannot simply walk into his home and take back his palace. It is infested with dangerous men standing in line for the crown.

Penelope has agreed to marry one of them once her burial shroud is complete. She weaves it during the day and secretly undoes it at night. She is waiting, still hopeful for her husband to return.

Disguised as a beggar, Odysseus finally enters his own palace and observes. He is patient. He takes his time with his reconnaissance, as a general maps out enemy terrain. Some suitors abuse him, mock him, and patronize what they take to be an old, defenseless man. He risked his life on foreign battlefields to protect such men — he literally went to Hades and back — and this is the thanks he gets? Suitors slaughtering his cattle for their own bellies; men in the grass watching every movement of his woman? These ingrates have defiled his female servants; these tumors want to murder his beloved son.

But things change when the challenge for Penelope’s hand begins.

Odysseus has a bow that none but he can string. Penelope says that the man who can string it and shoot an arrow through a path of axes to a target will be her husband. Each man tries, and fails. A frail voice rises that he might try. In humor the suitors hand the despised old man the great bow.

To the shock of all, he strings it and strikes the target. To their greater provocation, he turns and shoots another arrow, slaying the chief villain among the suitors. Homer writes that at the beginning of the outpouring “slaughter [was] the last thing on the suitor’s mind: who could dream that one foe in that crowd of feasters, however great his power, would bring down death?” (22.11–14).

They think the old man must have killed the lead suitor by accident. The hive agitates. “Stranger,” the living ones say, “shooting at men will cost your life! Your game is over — you, you’ve shot your last! You’ll never escape your own headlong death! You killed the best in Ithaca — our fine prince! Vultures will eat your corpse!” (22.27–31). They were “blind to the fact that all their necks were in the noose, their doom sealed” (22.33–34).

Then a voice speaks as from the grave. “You dogs!” says the stranger. “You never imagined I’d return from Troy — so cocksure that you bled my house to death, ravished my serving-women — wooed my wife behind my back while I was still alive. No fear of the gods who rule the skies up there, no fear that men’s revenge might arrive someday — now all your necks are in the noose — your doom is sealed!” As he spoke, “terror gripped them all” (22.36–43).

The doors are locked. Most of the weapons have been removed. Vengeance commences. Some plead for their lives based upon their good deeds, and die. Others, who dealt well with his son, live. The rest fly or fight. After a mighty struggle, most of the 108 suitors lie slain or kneel.

The Return of Christ

Watching this scene play out on the big screen sent awe, like an ocean wave, over the audience. The crowd manifestly loved to watch these prideful men, beards stained with another man’s wine, fingernails long and dirty with his meat, vanquished. The bad guys get what they deserve, even when it is bloody.

That’s when it hit me: Most here celebrating vengeance have no idea they themselves await an even more severe judgment at the end of time. They are the suitors, feasting on the Master’s bread and wine, indifferent (if not hostile) to his Son, ruled by their appetites. They do not honor God or give him thanks. They breathe his air, live on his land, sleep around with his rebellious servants — there is no fear of God before their eyes.

They pretend to have no king but themselves because the true king is off in a distant land, or presumed as good as dead. Whether for twenty or two thousand years, these unfaithful suitors eat his food, drink his drink, and make themselves merry from his estate, asking in their stupor, “Where is the promise of his coming?” (2 Peter 3:4).

History, even now, races toward the final chapter when his bride shall be liberated, the kingdom restored, and the wicked slain by the King with an everlasting death. Will the scene be rated R for violence?

This King, the only one able to take the scroll and open its seals, will reveal himself in his glory at a time when the proud have no thought of death. The once-dirty cloak of a homeless Galilean will be thrown aside, along with the tattered sandals. All will see what John saw:

Then I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse! The one sitting on it is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he judges and makes war. His eyes are like a flame of fire, and on his head are many diadems, and he has a name written that no one knows but himself. He is clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and the name by which he is called is The Word of God. And the armies of heaven, arrayed in fine linen, white and pure, were following him on white horses. From his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations, and he will rule them with a rod of iron. He will tread the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God the Almighty. On his robe and on his thigh he has a name written, King of kings and Lord of lords. (Revelation 19:11–16)

“Dogs,” will call the voice of justice, “did you think that I should not come back? You have wasted my substance, have forced my maidservants to lie with you, and have wooed my wife while I was still living. You have feared neither God nor man, and now you will die.”

Horrified, the villains who refused his rule will confess their guilt but try to pay him off with good works or flee from his wrath. But “they will not escape” (1 Thessalonians 5:3). Some will cry to the mountains to crush them rather than face the righteous wrath of the King (Revelation 6:16). Mountains will not obey. The wicked will be weaponless. Exposed. Trembling.

The rightful King will have his righteous bow, one he alone can string and shoot. Every knee will bow. Every deed of treason shall be announced. Executions will commence.

The great winepress of God’s wrath will be trodden — blood as high as a horse’s bridle will flow for miles and miles (Revelation 14:20). The little suitors of his throne, the rebels to his cause, will be gathered and thrown — kicking and screaming — into a lake of fire. “The smoke of their torment goes up forever and ever, and they have no rest, day or night” (Revelation 14:11). Their soundtrack will ever be weeping and gnashing of teeth. And all the holy ones and angels will celebrate the King’s return and his final triumph over the wicked.

Will You Turn?

It is brutal to watch men die on screen. But if we get squeamish watching the pretend vengeance of one incensed man, what shall it be like to face the righteous wrath of Almighty God in real life? And if we sense something of justice in man’s imperfect vengeance, what excuse shall we make when perfect judgment descends to render to the wicked their due?

The wrath of God is coming. One far greater than Odysseus is on his way. He waits only to give time for traitors to kneel and be spared. He will arrive sooner than you think. Even now he watches. Flee from God’s wrath by pleading now for his mercy. He will forgive all who turn from sin and trust in his atonement. He has scars of glory from his great victory on the cross, where his love and mercy spilled forth as his own blood. Why would you die when such a King offers a total pardon of all your crimes and a perfect reconciliation with him in his kingdom? Today is the day of salvation — you are not promised another. “Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and you perish in the way, for his wrath is quickly kindled. Blessed are all who take refuge in him” (Psalm 2:12).

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