Jesus is coming back—not for a complacent congregation playing romance with Babylon, nor for a lukewarm assembly sipping watered-down gospel from golden chalices of compromise. He is coming in clouds of glory, not to negotiate, but to separate. The line is already drawn, not in sand, but in spirit. The final trumpet will not ring for the careless nor sound for the casual. It will be a divine interruption, a holy invasion—a shout that will split the sky and split destinies (1 Thessalonians 4:16–17).
He’s not returning for a bride still flirting with Delilah, nor for a church that mistakes smoke machines for Shekinah glory. The midnight cry will not wait for the drowsy or the double-minded (James 1:8). This is the hour where lamps must be trimmed, and the oil of intimacy bought—not with silver and gold, but with brokenness, repentance, and fiery devotion. Many are asleep in Zion. The wedding banquet is prepared, but the virgins are divided. Five are wise. Five are fools (Matthew 25:1–13). The King delays, not because He is slack concerning His promise (2 Peter 3:9), but because mercy is still pleading with those who are too busy building kingdoms of clay instead of seeking the Kingdom of God.
The shaking has begun. Nations are groaning. Earthquakes beneath our feet mirror earthquakes in our pulpits. Families fractured, churches entertaining goats while starving sheep. This is not just tribulation—it is the threshing floor. The wheat is being separated from the chaff, and many are discovering they are more straw than stone.
The end-time ecclesia must be fire-branded, not fan-based. Bishop David Oyedepo thundered once: “We are not on a playground. We are on a battleground. It takes spiritual violence to stay relevant in this generation.” But too many pastors are spiritual pacifists, preaching padded messages to itching ears (2 Timothy 4:3–4). They offer motivational bandages for sin-wounds that only the blood can cleanse (Hebrews 9:14). The altar has become a platform. The cross, a prop. The anointing, a product.
Juanita Bynum once wept on stage, saying, “This is a generation that has learned how to church, but not how to travail. They know how to gather, but not how to groan.” True. The holy hush that once fell on congregations has been replaced with light shows and loud flesh. There is no weight of glory, no kabod. The fear of God has been edited out of our theology. But the Lion of Judah is not coming back as a therapist. He is returning as Judge, with eyes like flames and a voice like many waters (Revelation 1:14–15).
The sacred is now scarce. We entertain more than we intercede. We shout louder but pray less. In many sanctuaries, Ichabod is already written over the doorposts—“The glory has departed.” Yet we still dance. Like Israel before the captivity, we say, “The temple of the Lord! The temple of the Lord!” (Jeremiah 7:4), unaware that judgment begins in the house of God (1 Peter 4:17).
The cross demands crucifixion, but we prefer convenience. We want resurrection without Gethsemane. We want Pentecost without Calvary. But there is no crown without a cross, no glory without a grave. Christ did not bleed to make us popular. He died to make us pure (Ephesians 5:25–27). He gave Himself not to produce events, but to raise a remnant—holy, set apart, uncompromising, and watchful.
Pastor Chris Oyakhilome declared: “When Jesus returns, He’s coming for a Church that is victorious—not weak, not uncertain, not worldly.” Yet what do we see? Many pulpits filled with hirelings, not shepherds (John 10:12–13). Sheep without discernment. Songs without the Spirit. Sermons without Scripture. We preach grace, yet forget that grace teaches us to say No to ungodliness and worldly passions (Titus 2:11–13). We shout “Jesus is Lord” but live like Caesar is king.
This gospel is a call to die. It demands the death of ego, sin, secret compromise, and surface Christianity. In this hour, the Holy Ghost is looking for altars, not stages. For intercessors, not influencers. For prophets, not performers. For those who carry the burden of Zion like fire shut up in their bones (Jeremiah 20:9).
Arc. Pastor Raymond Duke Haruna recently declared, “We are in the last lap of the final race. And God is not looking for speed but for surrender.” Yes. Heaven is not scanning for talent but for tears. Not for platforms but for posture. Those who tremble at His Word (Isaiah 66:2), those who cry in secret, those whose garments are not stained by the world (Revelation 3:4).
Let the Church return to the secret place. Let her weep between the porch and the altar (Joel 2:17). Let her wash her robes in the blood of the Lamb (Revelation 7:14). The world may mock, but eternity watches. Angels are recording. The Spirit and the Bride say Come, but is the Bride really ready? Or has she traded her wedding dress for a business suit?
This is the hour of decision. The valley of Jehoshaphat. Multitudes stand at the crossroads (Joel 3:14). Heaven is no longer silent. The clock of prophecy is ticking. The fig tree has blossomed. The signs are everywhere. Persecution rises. Love wanes. Lawlessness multiplies. But the faithful must endure (Matthew 24:12–13).
You cannot afford to be neutral now. Neutrality is betrayal in the Spirit. The line has been drawn between the consecrated and the carnal, the watchful and the worldly. The return of the King is not fable—it is imminent. The heavens will crack open, and every eye shall see Him, even those who pierced Him (Revelation 1:7). For the prepared, it will be glory. For the unready, it will be terror.
So what shall we say then? Prepare the way of the Lord. Repent, for the Kingdom is not coming—it is already here, and its King is riding swiftly. Make straight the crooked paths. Blow the trumpet in Zion. Warn the saints. Wake the sleepers. The Lord whom we seek shall suddenly come to His temple (Malachi 3:1), but who shall stand when He appears?
Even now, as these words are written, the Spirit knocks. Even now, the cry rings out: Behold, the Bridegroom comes. Go ye out to meet Him. Trim your lamp. Buy your oil. Light your fire. Purify your robe. Watch and pray. For the Son of Man comes at an hour you do not expect (Luke 12:40). Are you ready to meet your King?
I invite you to join latter Glory Kingdom Assembly, Inachalo Road, Idah, Kogi State.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah – Igalamela/Odolu LGA, Kogi state.
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