𝘈 𝘊𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘪𝘭𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘮 𝘊𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘙𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘨𝘦

“If the foundations are destroyed, What can the righteous do?” — Psalm 11:3 (NKJV)

There is a question that rises from the eleventh Psalm with a peculiar urgency for the generation in which we live. It is a question born in the midst of danger, spoken when the wicked had bent their bows and made ready their arrows against the upright in heart. It is a question that echoes down through the centuries, through the ruins of fallen kingdoms, through the ashes of persecuted churches, through the lonely valleys where the righteous sought refuge, and along the wilderness paths worn by the feet of those who would rather abandon everything than abandon their Lord.

We are living in days when this question demands our most serious consideration. The foundations of righteousness within our societies have been profoundly compromised. Truth is increasingly treated as a matter of personal preference, moral restraint is despised, and the ancient boundaries that once distinguished righteousness from wickedness are being systematically dismantled. There have been dark and terrible periods throughout history, and we should not imagine that ours is the first generation to witness the collapse of moral order. Yet the speed and reach with which the modern world is departing from biblical truth ought to awaken every serious follower of Jesus Christ.

We have become accustomed to thinking of persecution as something that happens elsewhere, in distant lands under oppressive governments, or as something belonging to the darker chapters of Christian history. We read of the martyrs, the exiles, the persecuted Waldensians, the Huguenots, and the believers who fled from one country to another, and we admire their courage from the relative comfort of our own homes. But what if the hour is approaching when we ourselves shall be called to walk in their footsteps? What if the foundations upon which our societies have been built are not merely weakening, but have already been destroyed? What if the wicked have already bent their bows, and the arrows are being prepared against those who refuse to bow before the spirit of this age?

I believe that such a time lies before us. Not because I claim to know the day or hour of our Lord’s return, but because the prophetic Scriptures speak plainly of a great and terrible persecution of the saints, a persecution of such severity that our Lord Himself declared that unless those days were shortened, no flesh would be saved.

“And unless those days were shortened, no flesh would be saved; but for the elect’s sake those days will be shortened.” — Matthew 24:22

These are not the words of an alarmist. They are the words of Jesus Christ. And if we believe them, then we must begin to consider what they mean for the people of God. For the question is no longer merely what the righteous can do when the foundations are destroyed. The question is whether the righteous are prepared to leave those ruined foundations behind.

𝗦𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗕𝗮𝗯𝘆𝗹𝗼𝗻

God’s remnant people are scattered throughout the nations of the earth. They are not gathered together in one geographical location, nor do they dwell within the borders of some earthly sanctuary. They live among the nations, raising their families, laboring in their occupations, purchasing their homes, and growing old among the people of the lands in which they were born. In this respect, they are not unlike the children of Israel who dwelt in Babylon.

The exiles lived in a foreign kingdom. They built houses, planted gardens, raised children, and conducted their daily affairs beneath the authority of a government that did not acknowledge the God of Israel as they did. Yet Babylon was never their ultimate home. They were a covenant people living in a land that was not their inheritance. And so it is with the remnant of God today.

We dwell in the nations, but we do not belong to the spirit of the nations. We live among the people of this world, but our citizenship is in heaven. We may love the lands of our birth, yet we are citizens of another Kingdom, subjects of another King, and heirs of an inheritance that cannot be corrupted or taken away. The tragedy is that many Christians have forgotten this distinction. We have lived so long in the relative security of our earthly surroundings that we have begun to mistake our place of residence for our place of belonging.

We have put down roots in Babylon. We have built our homes, accumulated our possessions, established our careers, and woven our lives so completely into the fabric of our nations that the thought of leaving them seems almost unthinkable. Yet the Word of God declares:

“For here we have no continuing city, but we seek the one to come.” — Hebrews 13:14

No continuing city. Not London, Edinburgh, New York, or any city or nation upon the face of this earth. Our true home lies beyond the kingdoms of men, and the remnant must recover this understanding before the hour of flight arrives.

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗖𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗖𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗟𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗕𝗮𝗯𝘆𝗹𝗼𝗻

There is another remarkable lesson to be learned from the children of Israel who dwelt in Babylon. For seventy years they had lived in exile. They had built houses, planted vineyards, established businesses, raised families, and watched their children and grandchildren grow up in a foreign land. Babylon had become familiar to them. What had begun as captivity had, over the passing generations, become home.

Then the day of deliverance arrived. God stirred the heart of Cyrus, king of Persia, to issue a decree permitting the Jewish exiles to return to Jerusalem and rebuild the house of the Lord. The door was opened, the road home lay before them, and the God who had promised their restoration had moved upon the heart of a pagan king to make their return possible. Yet the astonishing truth is that only a portion of the exiles returned.

The precise proportion is not recorded in Scripture, but it is evident that a great many remained in Babylon. The book of Ezra records the return of a comparatively small company, while substantial Jewish communities continued to dwell in the lands of their captivity. Consider the implications. For generations they had prayed toward Jerusalem. They had remembered Zion. Their fathers had wept by the rivers of Babylon, hanging their harps upon the willows as they remembered the land from which they had been carried away.

“By the rivers of Babylon, There we sat down, yea, we wept When we remembered Zion.” — Psalm 137:1

Yet when the opportunity came to return, many remained. Why? Scripture does not tell us the individual motives of those who stayed, but we can readily imagine the enormous difficulty of leaving behind homes, livelihoods, possessions, and established communities to undertake a dangerous journey toward a ruined city. Jerusalem lay in desolation. Its walls were broken down, its temple had been destroyed, the journey was long, the future uncertain, and the work awaiting those who returned was formidable. Babylon, by comparison, offered familiarity and established ways of life.

And so the call to return became a searching test of earthly attachment and spiritual longing. A remnant arose and went. They left behind the familiar and journeyed toward the city of their fathers, trusting that the God who had opened the door would also sustain them upon the road. Here is a question that ought to trouble the comfortable Church of our generation: When the hour comes for God’s people to leave their own Babylon, how many will be willing to go?

How many will discover that their possessions have become chains, their comforts have become masters, and their attachment to the familiar has become stronger than their willingness to obey? How many will recognize the hour of departure, yet hesitate because the cost of leaving seems too great? The historical return from Babylon was a particular covenant restoration, not a command that every Jew living abroad was necessarily disobedient if he remained. Nevertheless, the contrast between those who departed and those who stayed offers a solemn lesson about the power of earthly attachments.

The remnant of God must cultivate a heart that is free to follow the Lord wherever He leads. We must not become so comfortable in Babylon that we are unable to leave when the call comes, nor become so rooted in the kingdoms of men that we forget the Kingdom to which we truly belong. The greatest obstacle to flight may not be the armies gathered at the gates, but the earthly attachments that hold the heart captive long before the gates are closed.

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝗕𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗕𝗼𝘄𝘀

David writes:

“For look! The wicked bend their bow, They make ready their arrow on the string, That they may shoot secretly at the upright in heart.” — Psalm 11:2

There is something deeply prophetic in the picture painted by these words. The wicked are not merely disagreeing with the righteous. They are preparing their weapons against them. The upright in heart have become their targets. And immediately following this description comes the question: “If the foundations are destroyed, What can the righteous do?”

Consider the nature of these foundations: truth, justice, righteousness, the recognition that there is a moral order greater than the desires of men, and the acknowledgment that good and evil are not merely the inventions of society, but realities established by God. What happens when these foundations are overturned? What happens when the institutions that once restrained wickedness begin to accommodate it, when righteousness is increasingly regarded as evil, and evil is celebrated as righteousness?

Isaiah declared:

“Woe to those who call evil good, and good evil; Who put darkness for light, and light for darkness.” — Isaiah 5:20

We have witnessed a profound departure from biblical righteousness within the societies of the modern world. The restraints that once gave public recognition to the moral law of God have been weakened or cast aside in many places. And while no earthly nation has ever been truly righteous, the increasing rejection of biblical truth presents the faithful with a searching question. How long can a society abandon the foundations of righteousness before those who remain faithful to them become intolerable to it?

Jesus warned that His followers would be hated by all nations for His name’s sake. I believe we are moving toward the fulfillment of that warning in a manner the modern Western Church has scarcely contemplated.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗧𝗲𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝗗𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝘂𝗹𝘁𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗟𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴

There is a historical tragedy that ought to arrest our attention. Consider the Jewish people of Germany during the rise of National Socialism. For generations, Jewish families had lived in Germany. They had established businesses, entered professions, served their communities, contributed to German culture, and regarded Germany as their homeland. Many were deeply assimilated into German society. Germany was not merely where they happened to live. It was home.

Then came the persecution. First came exclusion, humiliation, and the erosion of civil rights. Then came increasingly severe restrictions upon employment, education, property, and participation in public life. The world they had known was disappearing. Many recognized the danger and fled. Hundreds of thousands of Jews emigrated from Germany before the Nazi regime prohibited Jewish emigration in 1941. Others desperately sought escape but found the doors of refuge closed against them.

Many remained. Some could not obtain permission to enter another country. Some were trapped by financial restrictions that stripped them of the means to begin again. Others were elderly, infirm, or responsible for relatives who could not travel. Many could scarcely comprehend that the country they had considered their own could descend into such murderous hatred. Ultimately, for those who remained under Nazi control, the consequences were catastrophic.

We must never speak lightly of their circumstances or imagine that escape was simply a matter of courage. For many, the opportunity to flee was denied altogether. Yet their history confronts us with an almost unbearable question. What would we have done if the country in which we had lived all our lives became a place of danger? What if we were required to leave behind the home we had spent decades paying for? What if our savings could not be transferred, our possessions could not be carried, and the work of a lifetime had to be abandoned? What if the only way forward was to walk away with almost nothing?

Would we go? Would we recognize the danger before the doors were closed? Would our attachment to the familiar prevent us from acting while the opportunity remained? Would we cling to the hope that things might improve, even as the foundations crumbled beneath our feet?

These are not comfortable questions, but they are questions that God’s remnant must be willing to confront. For there is a kind of spiritual preparedness that cannot be acquired in the hour of crisis. It must be cultivated beforehand.

𝗔𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗵𝗮𝗺 𝗪𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗢𝘂𝘁 𝗡𝗼𝘁 𝗞𝗻𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗛𝗲 𝗪𝗮𝘀 𝗚𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴

Consider again the extraordinary faith of Abraham.

“By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to the place which he would receive as an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he was going.” — Hebrews 11:8

He went out. Those three words contain an entire theology of pilgrimage. Abraham left behind the familiar and stepped into the unknown because the Lord had called him. He was not anchored to the soil of his homeland. He was anchored to the promises of God. And the writer of Hebrews reveals the great secret of his faith:

“For he waited for the city which has foundations, whose builder and maker is God.” — Hebrews 11:10

Abraham could leave earthly foundations behind because he was looking for heavenly ones. He could live in tents because he was waiting for a city. He could become a stranger in a strange land because his ultimate belonging was not determined by earthly geography. And this is precisely the faith that the remnant must recover.

We must learn to live with our possessions held loosely and our hearts fixed firmly upon Christ. We must learn that our homes are temporary, our earthly citizenship is temporary, and the present order of this world is passing away. We must learn to be ready to go, not in panic, confusion, or in response to every rumor or fearful prediction, but in that quiet, settled dependence upon God that enables a man to obey when the time for obedience arrives.

𝗣𝗿𝗮𝘆 𝗧𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗙𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗠𝗮𝘆 𝗡𝗼𝘁 𝗕𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗪𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿

Our Lord did not leave His disciples without instruction concerning flight.

“When they persecute you in this city, flee to another.” — Matthew 10:23

And in His prophetic discourse concerning Jerusalem and the tribulation, He declared:

“Then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains.” — Matthew 24:16

Then He added:

“And pray that your flight may not be in winter or on the Sabbath.” — Matthew 24:20

Consider the weight of those words. Jesus spoke of a flight so urgent that those upon their housetops were not to return to retrieve their possessions. Those working in the fields were not to return for their clothes. The circumstances would demand immediate departure. There would be no time to gather the treasures of a lifetime, no time to negotiate the sale of a home, and no time to settle every earthly affair. The command was to flee.

Our Lord specifically instructed His followers to pray concerning the conditions under which their flight would take place. The warning concerning Judea had a particular historical setting, and early Christian tradition records that believers fled Jerusalem for Pella before its destruction in AD 70. Yet the prophetic discourse also contains the solemn warning of tribulation so severe that the days must be shortened for the elect’s sake.

Those who understand these words as pointing beyond Jerusalem to a final worldwide tribulation must consider their implications with utmost seriousness. Flight is not an embarrassment to Christian faith. It is something our Lord Himself commanded under particular circumstances, and the believer who flees in obedience to Christ has not abandoned his testimony. He has obeyed his Master.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗶𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗛𝗮𝘀 𝗔𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗕𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗮 𝗣𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗥𝗲𝗳𝘂𝗴𝗲

David fled into the wilderness and found shelter in caves. Elijah fled from Jezebel. Joseph took Mary and the infant Jesus into Egypt when Herod sought the child’s life. Paul escaped Damascus by being lowered through the city wall in a basket. And the faithful described in Hebrews wandered through deserts, mountains, dens, and caves.

“Of whom the world was not worthy.” — Hebrews 11:38

What an extraordinary description of those who had been driven from the ordinary securities of life! The world regarded them as fugitives, but heaven regarded them as precious. They were destitute, afflicted, and tormented, yet the testimony of God was that the world was not worthy of them.

There is another remarkable passage that speaks directly to the question of refuge in the last days.

“Then the woman fled into the wilderness, where she has a place prepared by God.” — Revelation 12:6

A place prepared by God, a place in the wilderness, a place of preservation during a period of extraordinary spiritual conflict. The identity of the woman is understood differently among interpreters, and many identify her specifically with Israel. We must not claim more from the passage than it reveals. Yet for those considering the prophetic preservation of God’s people, the picture is unmistakably significant.

God is not without resources. He is not dependent upon the favor of earthly governments. He is able to prepare places of refuge beyond the reach of powers that seek to destroy. And the prophet Isaiah declares:

“Come, my people, enter your chambers, And shut your doors behind you; Hide yourself, as it were, for a little moment, Until the indignation is past.” — Isaiah 26:20

What a remarkable invitation. The Lord calls His people to hide themselves for a little moment, until the indignation is past. There is a time to stand in the public square and bear witness. There is a time to endure suffering without compromise. And there is a time to withdraw, to hide, and to seek refuge. The Lord who calls His people to faithfulness is also the Lord who knows how to shelter them.

𝗛𝗲𝗿𝗿𝗻𝗵𝘂𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗣𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲𝘀 𝗧𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗠𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗕𝗲 𝗣𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗱

In the eighteenth century, persecuted Protestant believers from Moravia and neighboring regions found refuge upon the estate of Count Nikolaus Ludwig von Zinzendorf in Saxony. There, a settlement known as Herrnhut began to take shape. These were displaced believers who needed somewhere to go, and Zinzendorf possessed land and resources that could be placed at their disposal.

What emerged was not merely a place where refugees could survive. It became a community of prayer, fellowship, spiritual renewal, and extraordinary missionary endeavor. Those who had fled persecution became those who carried the Gospel across the earth. The refugees became missionaries, and the place of shelter became a place of sending.

Herein lies a lesson for the Church today. God’s remnant is scattered among the nations, but the scattered saints will need places of refuge when persecution comes upon them. There must be those who are prepared to receive them. There must be believers who possess land, property, wealth, and resources who understand that what has been entrusted to them may have a purpose far greater than their own comfort.

Where are the Zinzendorfs of our generation? Where are those who will open their lands to the persecuted? Where are those who will establish places of shelter, not as monuments to themselves, but as acts of love toward the suffering Body of Christ? Where are those who will make provision for families, for children, for the elderly, and for those who have lost everything because they would not deny the name of Jesus?

I believe this work of preparation must go forward, not as a fearful retreat from the world, nor as the construction of isolated kingdoms governed by men, but as an expression of Christian love and foresight. These places should be established with wisdom, lawful stewardship, and accountability, ready to serve the vulnerable without exploiting them.

For the day will come when the fleeing saints will need somewhere to lay their heads. What a testimony it would be if, when that day arrives, the Lord has already raised up men and women whose resources have been consecrated to their preservation.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗣𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗵𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝗖𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘁𝘀

There is a tendency among Christians to read the prophetic Scriptures as though they describe events belonging to some distant and almost unimaginable future. Yet the words of Jesus are too solemn to be treated as mere theological curiosities. He warned of deception, betrayal, hatred, and a great tribulation. He warned that the persecution would become so severe that, unless those days were shortened, no flesh would be saved.

In Revelation, we read of the beast making war against the saints.

“It was granted to him to make war with the saints and to overcome them.” — Revelation 13:7

And in Daniel we read of a power that shall persecute the saints of the Most High. These are grave warnings. I believe the prophetic hour is far nearer than much of the comfortable Western Church is prepared to acknowledge. The foundations of righteousness are being undermined, hostility toward biblical convictions is growing in many settings, and the spiritual character of the age increasingly demands conformity to values that stand opposed to the Word of God.

We must not mistake these observations for proof that we can calculate the remaining years. Our Lord has not entrusted that knowledge to us. But neither should uncertainty concerning the precise hour become an excuse for spiritual slumber. The wise virgins prepared before the bridegroom arrived. Noah prepared the ark before the rain began to fall. Joseph stored grain before the famine descended upon Egypt.

The remnant must learn the difference between fearful speculation and faithful preparation. The coming persecution of the saints is not something to be dismissed because its full dimensions have not yet appeared. It is something for which the Church must be spiritually prepared.

𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗦𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗪𝗲 𝗕𝗲 𝗣𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗟𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗕𝗲𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗱?

And so we arrive at the question that ought to search every heart. What are we prepared to leave behind? Our homes, our possessions, our savings, our country, our familiar surroundings, and the accumulated comforts of an entire lifetime? What if the Lord calls us to leave with little more than the clothes upon our backs? What if the roads are uncertain, the destination unknown, and the future hidden from our sight? Will we go, or will we look back, as Lot’s wife looked back toward Sodom?

There is something deeply revealing about the warning of our Lord:

“Remember Lot’s wife.” — Luke 17:32

She had physically departed, but her heart remained attached to the place she was leaving. And this is perhaps one of the greatest dangers confronting the remnant. We may have separated ourselves spiritually from the world while remaining deeply attached to its comforts. We may reject the wickedness of Babylon while finding ourselves unable to imagine life beyond its walls. We may proclaim that Christ is our all in all, yet tremble at the prospect of losing the things we have accumulated.

The hour of flight will expose where our treasure truly lies. Therefore the time to prepare is now, not necessarily by selling everything or abandoning our homes, but by surrendering our claim upon them before the Lord. By understanding that nothing we possess is ours in an eternal sense. By learning to depend upon Christ rather than the circumstances in which we live. By becoming pilgrims in our hearts before we are required to become pilgrims with our feet.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗙𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗧𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗡𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗠𝗼𝘃𝗲𝘀

And now we return once more to David’s question.

“If the foundations are destroyed, What can the righteous do?”

The wicked may bend their bows, the nations may turn against the saints, the foundations of righteousness may be cast down, and the familiar world may become a place of danger. The people of God may once again be driven into deserts, mountains, wilderness places, and unfamiliar lands. But there is one foundation that the wicked cannot destroy.

“For no other foundation can anyone lay than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ.” — 1 Corinthians 3:11

There is our hope, our confidence, and the Rock upon which the remnant stands. We may lose the ground beneath our feet, but we shall never lose the foundation upon which we stand. For our foundation is not the soil of Scotland, England, America, or any other earthly nation. Our foundation is Jesus Christ.

The same Christ who lifted us from the miry clay and established our feet upon the Rock. The same Christ who promised never to leave us nor forsake us. The same Christ who declared that heaven and earth would pass away, but His words would never pass away. And beneath the feet of every weary pilgrim are the everlasting arms.

“The eternal God is your refuge, And underneath are the everlasting arms.” — Deuteronomy 33:27

The ground may tremble, but His arms remain. The nations may rage, but His throne remains. Our earthly homes may be taken from us, but our heavenly inheritance remains. And though we may walk upon roads that lead to places we have never seen, we shall never walk beyond the presence of the One who redeemed us.

𝗔 𝗙𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗖𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗥𝗲𝗺𝗻𝗮𝗻𝘁

I write these things because I believe the Church must awaken to the realities of the hour. We have spent too long assuming that the relative peace and security enjoyed by generations of Western Christians will continue indefinitely. We have become too comfortable in Babylon. We have forgotten that we are strangers and pilgrims, and we have given too little consideration to the possibility that the day may come when the faithful must leave behind everything they have known.

The prophetic Scriptures warn of a persecution that shall test the saints with extraordinary severity. We must prepare our hearts for that hour. We must learn to recognize that our earthly security is temporary. We must cultivate the faith of Abraham, who went out not knowing where he was going. We must remember the believers who fled Jerusalem, the persecuted saints who wandered through mountains and caves, and the refugees who found shelter at Herrnhut. And those who have been entrusted with resources must consider how they might provide refuge for the saints who will be displaced.

Let the remnant learn to travel lightly through this world. Let our hearts be fixed upon Christ, our possessions remain subject to His purposes, and our love for our earthly homelands never exceed our love for the heavenly country. Let us not imagine that fleeing is necessarily a denial of courage, for sometimes the greatest courage is required of the man who closes the door of his home for the last time, takes his family by the hand, and begins walking toward a destination he cannot see.

He goes because the Lord has called him. He goes because the foundations of the world around him have collapsed. He goes because he knows that remaining would mean surrendering something infinitely more precious than his earthly possessions. And though his feet may tremble upon the unfamiliar road, the Rock beneath his soul remains unmoved. For he is not merely fleeing from persecution. He is following Jesus.

That narrow road, whether it leads through peaceful valleys or terrible tribulation, ultimately leads to the city whose builder and maker is God. There shall come a day when the fleeing is over, when the persecuted shall find rest, when those who wandered in deserts and mountains shall stand before the throne of the Lamb, and when the weary pilgrim shall finally enter the city that has everlasting foundations.

There shall be no more exile, no more persecution, no more fearful departures, and no more wicked men bending their bows against the upright in heart. For the kingdoms of this world shall give way to the everlasting Kingdom of our Lord and of His Christ.

Until that day, let the remnant be ready. Ready to stand, ready to endure, ready to flee, ready to receive those who flee, and above all, ready to follow the Lamb wherever He leads.

For the ground beneath our feet may be shifting, but the foundation upon which we stand shall never move. We are strangers in Babylon, pilgrims upon the earth, and citizens of a Kingdom that cannot be shaken.

“Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom which cannot be shaken, let us have grace, by which we may serve God acceptably with reverence and godly fear.” — Hebrews 12:28

𝗔 𝗖𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗥𝗲𝗺𝗻𝗮𝗻𝘁

The time to learn the faith of Abraham is before the command to depart. The time to prepare places of refuge is before the persecuted arrive. And the time to loosen our grip upon Babylon is before the hour comes when we must leave it behind.