Revelation 22:20

This is the second-to-last verse in the entire Bible. The book of Revelation was written by John — one of Jesus's original disciples — while he was exiled on a small island called Patmos as punishment for his faith. The whole book is a vision of spiritual realities, cosmic conflict, and ultimate hope. At the very end, after everything John has witnessed, Jesus speaks one final time across the whole of Scripture: "Yes, I am coming soon." John's response — "Amen. Come, Lord Jesus" — is one of the oldest prayers in Christian history. "Amen" means "so be it" or "truly." The prayer isn't just a doctrinal statement about the future; it's an act of longing. The entire Bible ends, essentially, with the church crying out: not yet — but please, come.

Jesus, I confess I sometimes hold this world so tightly that I forget I'm waiting for you. Stir in me a real longing — not just belief that you're coming, but actual desire for it. Let the truest prayer of my heart be the oldest one: Come, Lord Jesus. Amen.

The last words of a letter reveal what someone most wants you to carry away. And the last words of the entire Bible — spoken by Jesus himself — are not a command, a warning, or a doctrinal summary. They are a promise and an invitation collapsed into one: *I am coming soon.* After all the visions and symbols and mystery in Revelation, after every image of upheaval and renewal, it comes down to this: a relationship. A reunion. Someone who left, and is coming back. And John's response isn't a theology statement — it's a cry from somewhere unguarded. *Come.* Three letters. Raw and completely open. There's a kind of longing embedded in "Come, Lord Jesus" that modern Christianity doesn't always know what to do with. We're comfortable praying for things we need this week. But praying for the end of the world as we know it — for the whole current order to be swept up and remade — that requires wanting something beyond what this world can give. Ask yourself honestly: do you actually *want* Jesus to come back? Or is life comfortable enough that his return feels theoretical, a belief held at arm's length rather than a real desire? The answer tells you something important about where your heart lives. This small prayer is an invitation to hold your grip on the present world a little more loosely — and to find that what's coming is worth longing for.