Come, Lord Jesus
The sure return
Someone stands at a window as the light goes gold and then grey, watching the road. They are waiting for a traveler they love, one who has been long away and is finally coming home. They do not know the hour, only that it is coming, and so the waiting itself has a particular charge to it. It is not the bracing dread of bad news. It is the lean-forward ache of expectancy, eyes going again and again to the bend in the road where the figure will first appear. Scripture's second-to-last word is a promise and a prayer locked together like that, like a returning traveler and the one at the window. Christ says, yes, I am coming quickly. And the church, across two thousand years of windows and roads, answers back: Amen, come, Lord Jesus. It is the oldest prayer the people of God have, older than most of the words we use to say it. And it is exactly the right posture for the end of this whole journey. Not the anxious bracing you may have done so much of, the waiting that expects the next blow. This is waiting transformed. He who is coming, Hebrews says, will come, and will not delay. The figure is already on the road. The only question is which bend.
“Yes, I come quickly. Amen! Come, Lord Jesus.”
— The risen Christ, and the church's reply — Revelation 22:20 (WEB)
“In a very little while, he who comes will come, and will not wait.”
What Cannot Be Shaken means the return is sure, and so waiting itself is transformed. Christ's promise and the church's oldest prayer lock together: I come quickly; come, Lord Jesus. The end of the journey is not anxious bracing but expectant watching, eyes on the bend in the road. He who is coming will come and will not delay, and that certainty turns dread into a forward lean toward a homecoming.
You have done a great deal of waiting on this journey, and a lot of it was the anxious kind, the bracing that flinches toward the next loss, the watching that expects bad news. Here, at the end, waiting is handed back to you transformed. He says, yes, I am coming quickly, and you are given the oldest prayer of faith to answer with: come, Lord Jesus. Feel the difference between those two kinds of waiting. One is a person crouched against a blow. The other is a person at a window, leaning toward a homecoming, eyes going again to the bend in the road. The same hours, the same not-knowing of the hour, but everything about the posture is changed, because of who is on the road.
Whatever you are still waiting through, the unanswered prayer, the unhealed place, the future you cannot yet see, you are not waiting for the next catastrophe. You are waiting toward a Person who has promised He is on His way and will not delay. He is nearer the bend than when you began. So let your waiting lean forward again. Let it become expectant. The One you are watching for is surely coming, and He is closer to the bend than He was when you started.
The Church can lose its forward lean and settle into the present age as though no one were coming, the window shuttered, the road forgotten, the oldest prayer gone quiet on its lips. Scripture ends with the promise and that prayer locked together: I come quickly; come, Lord Jesus. When the Body across two thousand years of windows and roads keeps praying it, it lives expectantly, holding the present loosely because its Lord is on the way. As this upheaval shakes Western and global Christianity, the Church is not merely enduring the hours or bracing for the next blow. It is leaning toward a homecoming, answering its returning Lord with hope, watching the bend where He will first appear.
What cannot be shaken is that He is actually coming. The waiting is not aimed at empty air; it is aimed at a Person on the road who has given His word and will not delay. That turns the long watch from dread into expectancy. You are not bracing for the next blow at the window. You are leaning toward the bend where the One you love will first appear.
- How much of my waiting lately has been bracing for the next blow rather than leaning toward a homecoming?
- If He is truly on the road and will not delay, what would it change in how I hold the thing I am still waiting through?
- Can I make the church's oldest prayer my own today, and actually mean it: come, Lord Jesus?
Lord, so much of my waiting has been the crouching kind, braced for the next loss. You say You are coming quickly, so teach me to wait the other way, leaning toward the window, watching the bend in the road. Turn my dread into expectancy. Whatever I am still waiting through, remind me I am waiting toward You, a Person on the way who will not delay. With Your whole church across the ages I pray it and mean it: come, Lord Jesus. Amen.