Before It Gets Better
By Pastor Justin Cooper
I was driving home the other night and the radio was running through the same headlines on a loop. Wars rumbling. Politicians arguing over a peace deal somebody on the other side of the world is going to break before the ink dries. Prices climbing. Friends sick. Somebody you love walking through a hospital hallway right now.
You ever feel like the world is unraveling a little faster than it used to?
Y'all worry about stuff?
I do. I'd be lying if I said I didn't. And then I open my Bible to Revelation 19 and something settles in me.
"The world's not going to get better until it gets worse. But after it gets worse, it's going to get better because Jesus will come."
That sentence will preach to you on a Tuesday morning. Read it again. Slow.
The trouble we're walking through isn't the end of the story. It's the middle. And the middle is loud.
Look at Psalm 2 verse 4 with me. The kings of the earth are shaking their fists at God. They're plotting. They're scheming. They're acting like they're in charge. And what does God do?
"He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh."
God isn't pacing the floor of heaven. He isn't wringing His hands over the next news cycle. He isn't surprised by the chaos. He laughs.
You and I were never promised a quiet world. We were promised a coming King.
Listen — Pastor Cooper said it like this Sunday night:
"History does not quietly and gradually enter into the kingdom of Christ."
It comes with fury. It comes with thunder. It comes with a King on a white horse who steps out of eternity and invades time.
So here's the Monday morning move:
The next time the news is loud — and it will be loud — push back from the table. Open your Bible to Revelation 19. Read it out loud. Not in your head. Out loud, where you can hear it. Let the rhythm of the chapter settle on your soul. The dragon doesn't win. The Antichrist doesn't win. Death doesn't win. Jesus wins.
Then put the phone down. Hug your people. Go to work. Live like somebody who knows how the book ends.
Because you and I do.
Father, when the news is louder than my faith, remind me you're still on the throne. Remind me you laugh at the noise. Remind me the King is coming. And until He does — keep me steady. In Jesus' name, amen.
Reflection: What headline, what diagnosis, what argument has been louder than your faith this week — and what would change if you preached Revelation 19 to it before bed tonight?
