Daily devotion – soon and very soon!
The Trumpet Yet to Sound
There is a day appointed in the calendar of God — a moment fixed in eternity — that will eclipse every joy we have ever known on earth. It is nearer now than when we first believed. It has not yet arrived, but it is certain. And at the very centre of that hour stands our Lord Jesus Christ.
The apostle Paul the Apostle writes in First Epistle to the Thessalonians 4:16–17:
“For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of an archangel, and with the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first.
Then we who are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And thus we shall always be with the Lord.”
What a scene this will be.
The Lord Himself will descend. Not an angel. Not a representative. Jesus — the same One who walked the dusty roads of Galilee, who bore our sin, who rose in triumph — will come for His church. There will be a shout. The voice of the archangel. The trumpet of God. Heaven will not whisper this event; it will announce it.
And in that instant, the dead in Christ will rise first.
Those loved ones we have stood beside at gravesides… those tears we have shed in quiet rooms… the ache that still visits when a memory surfaces — all of it will meet its answer in that moment. They will rise in glorified bodies. Whole. Radiant. Free from pain, sorrow, disease, and death forever.
Then we who are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them.
Together.
What a reunion that will be. Not merely a reunion with loved ones, but a united ascent to meet the Lord in the air. The joy will not simply be restored relationships — it will be perfected fellowship in the presence of Christ. And thus we shall always be with the Lord.
Always.
Every funeral of a believer brings heaven closer. Every goodbye in Christ is only temporary. The separation is real, the grief is real, but it is not final. There is a trumpet yet to sound.
So let us be patient in sorrow. Let us endure in hope. Let us lift our eyes above the present shadows. That hour of wonder, joy, and amazement is not imagination — it is promise.
And when it comes, grief will vanish into glory.