Read Revelation 1:12–16
ALSO IN SCRIPTURE
“Go now, leave your bonds and slavery. Put Babylon behind you, with everything it represents, for it is unclean to you” (Isaiah 52:11 NLT)
The Book of Revelation opens not with beasts or bowls, but with a voice—a call that echoes through time and space to a Church both ancient and present. These seven letters, delivered to communities scattered across Asia Minor, are more than historical artifacts. They are loaded with truth, urgency, and love. They speak to us, challenge us, and strip away illusions. In every age, Christ’s words to the Church still ask us to listen—and respond.
Part 1: Babylon Beneath Our Feet. We walk through the world like fish swim through water—so immersed in it, we rarely notice what surrounds us.
When we think of Babylon, we imagine some far-off, ancient place—one we’d surely recognize if we saw it. But friends, Babylon rarely looks like Babylon. It looks like progress. It looks like security. It looks like a flag we can salute and a paycheck we can count on. Babylon is beneath our feet. It hides in the systems that seduce us with comfort and conformity. It thrives in the compromises we’ve been trained not to question. And if we’re honest, it stares back at us in the mirror.
Revelation doesn’t begin with monsters and wrath—it begins with a voice. A voice like a trumpet that calls John to turn. And when he turns, he sees not the horrors of empire but the glory of Christ. Hair white as wool. Eyes like flames. A sword from his mouth. A voice like rushing waters. A presence so holy it undoes him.
But notice what Christ is standing among: seven lampstands. The churches. The body of Christ, still present in the world, still called to reflect the light of God in a land that has forgotten what light looks like.
It’s easy to think Revelation is about somewhere else, somewhen else. But John’s vision is profoundly present-tense. It begins in worship, on the Lord’s Day, in exile. It begins where we are. And it begins with a hard truth: Christ is not absent. He is walking among the lampstands. He sees our fatigue, our wavering faith, our fear. He sees the cracks we cover with pious paint. And he speaks—not to condemn but to call.
“Come out from Babylon,” the prophets cried. Not with swords, but with faithfulness. Not with force, but with truth. Isaiah’s command to leave Babylon behind wasn’t about geography. It was about allegiance. About identity. About holiness.
That call echoes still.
Babylon beneath our feet means we must examine the foundation we’re standing on. Are we building on the words of Jesus—or the values of empire? Have we made peace with power, comfort, and control? Or are we willing to be disturbed, undone, reformed?
Revelation 1 isn’t just about the majesty of Jesus. It’s about his authority to speak to his Church. To us. Before we hear his words to Ephesus or Laodicea, we are invited to see him again. To hear him. And to let him read us.
The Church today faces many of the same seductions as the churches of Asia Minor did: cultural accommodation, spiritual apathy, misplaced identity, and the temptation to blend in rather than shine. But Christ walks among us still. And he speaks.
We don’t have to name Babylon to know it. We feel it. In the dissonance. In the headlines. In the gnawing pull between comfort and conviction. In the small voice that whispers: “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”
But Christ calls us not to despair, but to courage. Not to resignation, but to repentance. The lampstands remain. So does the fire.
So let us rise—not as keepers of comfort, but as bearers of the light.
THOUGHT OF THE DAY
Babylon isn’t just out there—it’s beneath us, around us, within us. But so is Christ. And he still speaks. Are we willing to turn and listen?PRAYER
Holy God, help us see the ways Babylon clings to our hearts and minds. Wake us from comfort and complacency. Give us ears to hear your voice, and the courage to follow—even when it costs us what we once called home. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
