Gracious God, send us your Spirit to guide our understanding as we listen to the Scriptures so that we may follow you more closely, know your truth more fully, and share in your gift of life more abundantly, through Christ, your Living Word. Amen.
Gospel Reading: Mark 13:24-37
In our last look at the thirteenth chapter of Mark’s gospel, we had left Jesus and four of his closest disciples on the Mount of Olives, which is a ridge opposite the city of Jerusalem, separated from it by the Kidron valley. They had just left the Temple and the disciples commented on its grandeur. Jesus had shocked them in his reply to their comments, saying, “‘…Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.’” (Mark 13:1) He then began to teach them about the coming end times when the entire world would be thrown into turmoil.
Jesus warned the disciples, saying, “‘As for yourselves, beware; for they will hand you over to councils; and you will be beaten in synagogues; and you will stand before governors and kings because of me, as a testimony to them… For in those days there will be suffering, such as has not been from the beginning of the creation that God created until now, no, and never will be.’” (Mark 13:9,19)
But after these dire warnings, Jesus then offers this promise of hope; that he will return to offer salvation and relief to all mankind, he says, “‘But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see “the Son of Man coming in clouds” with great power and glory. Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.’”
And while Jesus doesn’t deny the reality of the suffering that will take place, he does promise that for those who have faith in him, it will end upon his return. Jesus acknowledges that suffering will take place, but he refuses to let it have the final word. He says, “After that suffering…” Not “instead of suffering.” Not “avoiding” suffering. But “after”. That single word carries hope.
Jesus is realistic. He does not promise his disciples a smooth road. The darkened sun and falling stars remind us that there are moments when it feels as though even the foundations of life are shaking. Faith does not shield us from illness, grief, injustice, or uncertainty. The early disciples would face persecution. Jerusalem itself would fall. But suffering, in Jesus’ teaching, is never final. It has an end. It has an “after.” The darkness is not endless night — it is the shadow before dawn.
And then comes the turning point: “Then they will see the Son of Man coming in clouds with great power and glory.” The One who once came in humility will return in majesty. The One who was rejected will be revealed. The One who suffered will reign. And for those who have faith in him, his return is not terror — it is relief. It is restoration.
Notice what Jesus does when he comes: he gathers, he does not scatter his people in fear. He gathers his elect from the four winds. Every tear shed in faith, every quiet act of endurance, every whispered prayer offered in the dark — none of it is forgotten. His coming marks the end of separation, the end of struggle, the end of waiting. So, the promise is not that believers escape suffering. The promise is that suffering does not define their future. Jesus never promises us a world without trouble, but he does promise a future beyond it. The suffering is real — but it is not forever. The glory that follows is.
Jesus then tells his disciples, “‘From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. … Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.’”
Just as the fig tree begins to show signs in the spring that summer is drawing near, so Jesus teaches us to be attentive to the signs of his coming. We are not given the exact day or hour, that remains in the Father’s hands, but we are not left without awareness. We are called to recognize the season.
Christian hope is not built on surprise or speculation, but on readiness. The return of Christ will not catch his faithful people unprepared, because watchfulness is meant to shape our lives long before that day arrives. We live in expectation, not in panic.
The fig tree reminds us that God’s purposes often unfold quietly and gradually. Winter does not endure forever. Beneath the surface, life is already at work. The tender branch and the first small leaves may seem almost unnoticed, yet they announce that change is underway.
So, it is with the kingdom of God. What appears dormant is not dead. What seems delayed is not abandoned. In God’s time, the season turns — and those who have been watching will recognize it. Just as surely as spring follows winter, so surely Christ’s purposes will come to completion. The seasons of history are in his hands. And while heaven and earth may one day be transformed, the promises of Jesus will never fade.
Jesus then tells his disciples, “‘But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come.’” Those words can sound surprising — even startling. How can it be that the Son does not know?
Yet this statement takes us into the mystery of the Incarnation. When the eternal Son of God took on our humanity, he truly entered into the limitations of human life. Scripture tells us that he humbled himself. He did not cease to be divine, but in becoming fully human he willingly accepted the conditions of our humanity. In his earthly ministry, Jesus lived in dependence upon the Father. He prayed. He learned obedience. He grew in wisdom. And in that self-giving humility, certain things remained within the Father’s authority alone — including the timing of the final day.
This does not mean that Jesus stopped being fully God. Rather, it shows us the depth of his love. The One who possessed all authority chose to walk the path of trust and obedience. So, this saying should not shake our confidence in who Christ is. Instead, it invites our reverence. The Son who will come again in glory is the same Son who humbled himself for our salvation — fully divine, fully human, and perfectly united with the Father in purpose.
In his final brief parable, Jesus says, “‘It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his servants in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly.’” Here he describes a household entrusted to servants while the master is away. Each servant has a responsibility. Each has a task. Even the doorkeeper has a specific role — to stay watchful at the door.
The household remains prepared for the master’s return not because anyone knows the exact hour, but because everyone is faithfully carrying out the work assigned to them. Their readiness is expressed through shared responsibility and steady cooperation. Together, in community, they remain alert.
That is the heart of the image. When a homeowner entrusts his house to servants, those servants are expected to act on his behalf. The house does not belong to them. They cannot live carelessly, behave as though they are owners, or distract themselves with their own agendas. Their calling is to be faithful.
Rather than wondering about the day or hour of the master’s return, they are to live in such a way that whenever he arrives, he finds them doing exactly what he asked of them.
Jesus compares his departure to a man going on a journey who leaves his servants in charge, each with assigned work. And notice what he does not say. He does not tell them to stand at the window, anxiously watching the road. He does not call them to idle anticipation. He gives them work to do.
And that is why Jesus concludes with this solemn word: “‘And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.’” That command is not limited to the first disciples. It reaches across the generations — and it reaches us. Watchfulness is not mere waiting. It is not sitting still and scanning the horizon. It is active faithfulness. It is living each day as careful stewards of what belongs to Christ, so that whenever he comes — whether sooner or later — he finds us engaged in his work.
Jesus calls us to live as loyal servants of our Lord. He calls us to lives shaped by devotion in the ordinary rhythms of daily life. Faithfulness is not only found in dramatic moments, but in small decisions, quiet obedience, steady love, and consistent prayer. He wishes for a church community that truly reflects his gospel — a fellowship that makes Christ visible in the way we treat one another, in the sincerity of our worship, and in the choices we make. To “keep awake” is to follow him in the real world of our lives, trusting him, serving him, and showing his grace until the day when he appears once again.
And we don’t know that day or hour. But we do know the One who holds the day and the hour. The Son of Man who will come in glory is the same Lord who calls us to faithful living now. So, we do not live in fear of the end. We live in faithfulness in the present. We watch — not with anxious eyes fixed on the sky, but with steady hearts engaged in love, service, and hope. And when He comes, may He find us not fearful, not idle, not asleep in spirit —but faithfully at the work he has given us to do.
And just as the disciples didn’t know the day or hour of the return of Jesus when they were telling everyone of the Good News of forgiveness of sins through faith in Christ, neither do we know the day or hour in our world today. Yet, not knowing when Jesus will return should only heighten our responsibility to stay alert for the purpose of being faithful. We’re on a great journey. We know there’s a final destination. We just don’t know how close we are. All we do know is that we’re closer today than we were yesterday.
Let us Pray:
Faithful and sovereign God, you are the Lord of time and eternity. The seasons rise and fall at your command. We confess that we do not know the day or the hour of your Son’s appearing. At times we grow impatient. At times we grow distracted. At times we grow weary. Yet you remain steadfast. Keep us watchful, O Lord —not with anxious hearts, but with faithful ones. Amen