By Marshal Segal, March 27, 2022, at: http://www.desiringgod.org
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Amen. Come, Lord Jesus! –Revelation 22:20
The last prayer in the Bible is also one of its shortest; and yet it’s layered with heartache and anticipation, with distress and hope, with agony and joy. Can you imagine the apostle John savoring those three words, “Come, Lord Jesus!” while he was exiled and abandoned, living among criminals on the island of Patmos?
It’s almost as if John tries to draw the risen Jesus out of heaven, praying with all his might. The barren, rocky ground beneath his knees was more than a prison; it was a model of the curse, twenty square miles overrun with the consequences of sin. Suffering does this. It opens our eyes wider to all that sin has ruined; to just how much pain and havoc it has wrought in the world. And, in a strange way, suffering can also awaken us to the promise of His coming.
Weakness and illness make us long all the more for new bodies. Prolonged relational conflict makes us long all the more for peace. Wars and hurricanes and earthquakes make us long all the more for safety. Our remaining sin makes us long all the more for sinlessness. “Come, Lord Jesus!” is the cry of someone who really expects a better world to come — and soon. Suffering only intensifies that longing and anticipation.
The prayer “Come, Lord Jesus!” is really many prayers in one. What will happen when Christ finally returns? The opening verses of Revelation 21 tell us just how many of our prayers will be answered on that day.
Come, Lord Jesus, and dry our tears. Followers of Jesus are not spared sorrow in this life. In fact, following him often means more tears. Jesus himself warned us it would be so: “In the world you will have tribulation” (John 16:33). But one day, “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes” (Revelation 21:4). In that world, we will not have tribulation, or sorrow, or distress, or persecution, or danger. When he returns, we’ll never have another reason to cry.
Come, Lord Jesus, and put an end to our pain. Revelation 21:4 continues, “…neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore.” Can you imagine someone who has battled chronic pain for decades waking up one morning and feeling no more pain? For anyone in any pain (which is all the time for some of us, and at least some of the time for everyone), the absence of that pain will free our senses to enjoy the world like never before.
Come, Lord Jesus, and put death to death. Jesus came to defeat death. We are enslaved to the fear of death, but death lost its sting when Jesus died and rose from the dead. And one day, death itself will die, and “death shall be no more” (Revelation 21:4).
Come, Lord Jesus, and rid us of sin. John writes, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man” (v. 3). God comes to and will eradicate the sin that remains in us. The sin that hides in every shadow and behind every corner will be suddenly extinct. “When he appears, we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is” (I John 3:2).
Come, Lord Jesus, and make it all new. In other words, anything not included in the prayers above will be made right too. “Behold! I am making all things new” (Revelation 21:5). Nothing here will go untouched. Whatever aspect of life on earth afflicts you most, it will be different. Whatever fears have plagued you, whatever trials have surprised you, whatever clouds have followed you, they all will be transformed — in the twinkling of an eye — and stripped of their threats. In the world to come, we will have nothing to fear, nothing to mourn, nothing to endure, nothing to confess. Can you imagine?
More than a prayer for relief, or safety, or healing, or even sinlessness, though, “Come, Lord Jesus!” is a prayer for Him. The burning heart of John’s three-word plea is not for what Jesus does, but for who he is. This is clear throughout the book of Revelation. The world to come is a world to want because Jesus lives there. John’s prayer is, after all, “Come, Lord Jesus!” This is a response to Jesus promising three times in the previous verses, “Behold, I am coming soon… Behold, I am coming soon… Surely, I am coming soon” (Revelation 22:7, 12, 20).
While the apostle wasted away in prison, he could see Jesus on the horizon (Revelation 1:12-16). The man he had walked with, talked with, laughed with, and cried with, now fully glorified and ready to receive and rescue his people.
Even the vision of the new heavens and new earth in Revelation 21 makes God himself the greatest prize of the world to come: “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God” (Revelation 21:3). Yes, we want a world without grief, without pain, without fear, without death. But better to have a world like ours with God, than to have any other world without him. His presence defines paradise.
Randy Alcorn writes in his book Heaven:
Nothing is more often misdiagnosed than our homesickness for Heaven. We think that what we want is sex, drugs, alcohol, a new job, a raise, a doctorate, a spouse, a large-screen television, a new car, a cabin in the woods, a condo in Hawaii. What we really want is the person we were made for, Jesus, and the place we were made for, Heaven. Nothing less can satisfy us… We may imagine we want a thousand different things, but God is the one we really long for. His presence brings satisfaction; his absence brings thirst and longing. Our longing for Heaven is a longing for God.
The Bible doesn’t end only with a desperate plea for Christ to return, but also with a warm invitation to the weary, the suffering, the spiritually thirsty: “(The Lord) says, ‘Come!’ …Let the one who is thirsty come; and let the one who wishes take the free gift of the water of life” (Revelation 22:17). As John anticipates Christ’s returning, his last thoughts are not of judgment, but of mercy. He ends with a free and overflowing fountain held out to all who would come.
When Jesus comes, we will eat and drink and enjoy without end. Hunger and thirst will become distant memories. If sorrows have robbed you of sleep, if pain has made even normal days hard, if death has taken ones you love, if life has sometimes seemed stacked against you, if you can’t shake a restless ache for more, then come and eat with him. This world may be the only world you’ve known, but a better world is coming — and there’s still room at the table.
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Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!
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“I Can Only Imagine” by Mercy Me / Bart Millard, 2001:
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