240 The Unknown Hour: A Call to Steady Vigilance

Why Our Focus on When Christ Returns Is the Wrong Question

May 07, 2026

“But concerning that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only.”
(Matthew 24:36, ESV)

The words are as clear as they are frustrating. No one knows. Not the angels. Not the Son. Only the Father.

And yet, we keep asking. We keep calculating. We keep scanning headlines and aligning them with verses, trying to decode the divine timetable. There are smart people very smart people with exact dates, or at least a confident range of years. They map blood moons, they decipher numbers, they plot the course of nations against prophetic templates. And there are others, like me most days, who simply feel it in their bones: It’s imminent. Satan’s Little Season, It has to be now.

But here is the uncomfortable truth that sits between the two camps: We are all wrong until we are right. And our focus on the when is the very distraction the enemy loves.

So I ask you, and I ask myself, a different question. One that cuts through the speculation and lands in the mud of our daily lives:

What would you do differently if Jesus Christ returned in 6 days?

Your answer is probably immediate. You’d repent of that secret sin. You’d call that estranged family member. You’d give away what you’ve hoarded. You’d fall on your face in worship. You’d burn with urgency.

Now, what would you do differently if He returned in 6 years?

The urgency cools a little, doesn’t it? The timeline allows for a more “responsible” approach. You’d get your finances in order first. You’d plan that difficult conversation for next month. You’d start that ministry next year. The fire banked, replaced by planning.

And if it were 60 years? Or 600?

The flame of urgency gutters and dies. It’s replaced by the long, slow burn of “normal life.” The cosmic event recedes into a doctrinal footnote for future generations. Our posture shifts from a watchman on the wall to a settler building a permanent homestead in Babylon. Or in my case, somewhere in the high desert of Arizona.

This is the trap. Our faithfulness becomes contingent on a timeline we were never meant to know.

Jesus didn’t tell us to figure out the date. He told us a story: “Then the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom.” (Matthew 25:1, ESV). Five were wise. Five were foolish. The difference wasn’t in their expectation of if he would come, but in their preparation for whenever he might come. The foolish ones had oil, but not enough. Their lamps went out in the delay. The wise had extra. They were ready for the long, dark wait.

Our prayers should stop begging for a date. They should start asking: “What should I be doing differently right now?”

How does my heart’s posture change if the Return is tomorrow versus three centuries from now?

It shouldn’t.

If my love for Christ, my obedience to His commands, my love for my neighbor, my integrity in secret, and my public witness are only vibrant under the pressure of an imminent deadline, then they are not rooted in Him. They are rooted in fear, or excitement, or religious performance. They are the oil that burns bright for a moment but has no reserve.

I believe we are in Satan’s “little season.” The evidence of systemic deception, the spirit of the age, the feeling of a coiled spring ready to snap it all points to it for me. But what if I’m wrong? What if the “little season” is 3,000 years away? Does that mean I should relax? Does that mean I should build a legacy here, cozy up to the world’s systems, and let my lamp sputter?

No.

The call is to steady vigilance. The call is to live every day as if it could be the day, not with a frenzied panic, but with a settled, prepared heart. To have enough oil the oil of the Spirit, of prayer, of faithfulness, of scripture-saturated living to last through a long night or a short one. The wise virgins didn’t know how long the wait would be. They just knew they needed enough oil to be ready, regardless.

Our mission does not change with the calendar. Preach the gospel. Make disciples. Love God. Love your neighbor. Do justice. Love mercy. Walk humbly. Be the light in the darkness, whether that darkness lasts a night or a millennium.

The unknown hour is not a puzzle to be solved. It is a gift to be stewarded. It is the divine pressure that keeps our faith authentic, our love active, and our eyes on the eastern sky, not on the speculations of men.

So stop asking “when.”

Start asking “how.”

How will I live today, in this moment, so that whenever He comes in 6 days or 600 years He finds me faithful, my lamp lit, my heart awake, and my hands busy with the work He gave me?

That is the only timeline that matters.

That is all, and thank you for reading.

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