A Voice in the Wilderness: Revelation 1:9-18

Sermons

Jun 15

This Sunday, we opened a new sermon series in the book of Revelation—not to decode symbols or predict timelines, but to anchor ourselves in the glory of Christ. Pastor Dave walked us through Revelation 1:9–18, showing us that this final book of the Bible isn’t primarily about forecasting the future—it’s about helping weary believers stay faithful in the present.

The book begins not with beasts or battles, but with a man in exile. John, imprisoned on the island of Patmos, writes not as a detached prophet but as a fellow companion in “suffering and kingdom and patient endurance.” He isn’t suffering because he failed—he’s suffering because he was faithful. That tension—between the glory of Jesus and the hardship of discipleship—is what Revelation forces us to confront.

If Jesus is Lord… then why does the Church still suffer? If He reigns… then why do the faithful feel forgotten? If He holds all things together… then why do so many things still fall apart?

Revelation doesn’t answer those questions with easy explanations. It answers them with a vision. In John’s moment of silence and sorrow, he hears a voice—a voice like a trumpet. And when he turns to see, he doesn’t see Rome. He doesn’t see despair. He sees Jesus. Radiant. Majestic. Glorious. Walking among the lampstands—among His Church. Robed as a priest, eyes blazing like fire, voice like rushing waters, face shining like the sun.

This is no longer the humble teacher from Galilee. This is the glorified Son of Man. And still, He is present with His people. He is tending the flame. He is sustaining the Church. He is not absent in our exile—He walks among the lampstands.

John falls as though dead. And Jesus does not rebuke him—He touches him. That’s grace.
Not a prize for endurance. Not a reward for the faithful.
But the undeserved mercy of a Savior who meets us in our weakness.

Pastor Dave reminded us that this grace isn’t abstract—it is incarnate. And it flows from the heart of the Triune God:

The Father, who sent the Son in love,
The Son, who bore our sin and conquered death,
The Spirit, who strengthens us in suffering and assures us of our hope.

Jesus says: “Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last. I am the Living One. I was dead, and behold—I am alive forevermore. And I hold the keys.”

That one sentence reframes everything. Because if Jesus holds the keys—then we don’t have to. Not Caesar. Not our fear. Not our past, our pain, or our performance. He holds the keys.

The same voice that called galaxies into being now calls your name. The same hand that holds the stars now holds you. That’s not leniency. That’s power. That’s not sentiment. That’s salvation. And it’s a salvation that calls us to reorder our lives around the glory of Christ. Pastor Dave challenged us to ask: What is at the center of your life? What are you orbiting that isn’t strong enough to hold you? Because Revelation doesn’t just proclaim a King to fear or obey—it reveals a Savior whose glory is gravitational. Like the sun in our solar system, when He is at the center, everything else begins to find its proper place:

Your peace.
Your pace.
Your parenting.
Your purpose.
Your identity.

Colossians says, “In Him all things hold together.” And that includes you. So when the world feels unstable—when headlines spark fear and life feels heavy—this is the call:
Anchor your soul in the One who holds the keys. And here is the gospel at the heart of Revelation 1: Jesus didn’t wait for you to be strong. He came for you when you were lost. He died for you. He rose again. And now He holds the keys of death and Hades—so you don’t have to live afraid.

If all you have is Jesus, and all that remains is His glory—then you have everything.

So as we begin this journey through Revelation, let this be our foundation: