The Forerunner and the Final Trumpet: Preparing for the Coming King (Parts 1 & 2)
October 18, 2025
Dr. Bradford Reaves
Crossway Christian Fellowship
Luke 1:67-80
Somewhere in the halls of our universities, in our capitol buildings, on the glow of our screens, and even inside our sanctuaries, a spiritual revolt is taking place. It isn’t loud. It doesn’t wave banners. It simply erodes truth one compromise at a time. That revolt is called apostasy. This is not a malaise that is catching God by surprise, the Apostle Paul warned this day was coming
Now the Spirit expressly says that in later times some will depart from the faith by devoting themselves to deceitful spirits and teachings of demons, (1 Timothy 4:1)
The latest research from the American Worldview Inventory shows that only 4 percent of American adults hold a truly biblical worldview—and only 6 percent of professing Christians think biblically about God, sin, salvation, and truth. Ninety-four percent of the Church now filters life through the lens of the world instead of the Word. When worldview dies, morality follows. As the biblical foundation crumbles, we see the fruit everywhere—confusion replacing conviction, entertainment replacing worship, feelings replacing faith.
If we do not know Scripture, understand doctrine, and live by the Spirit, then we are drifting into apostasy. The Second Law of Thermodynamics states that in any closed system, energy naturally moves from order to disorder — from structure to decay — unless an external force acts upon it. In other words, if you leave something alone, it doesn’t evolve; it devolves. That’s why engines rust, fires burn out, and houses collapse when neglected. Without continual input of energy and maintenance, everything drifts toward entropy — chaos.
The same law applies to the human soul and to the Church. If we are not daily fed by Scripture, anchored in sound doctrine, and filled with the Spirit, then we are a closed system — slowly cooling, losing spiritual energy, and drifting toward apostasy. Truth, once neglected, always decays. Faith, once ignored, always fades. Churches, once vibrant, always grow cold when the Word of God stops fueling the flame.
That’s why Jude wrote, “Contend for the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints.” (Jude 1:3) And why Paul told Timothy, “Fan into flame the gift of God.” (2 Tim. 1:6)
The Second Law reminds us: the natural direction of a fallen world is down. But when the Spirit of God invades a life — when the fire of His Word and the breath of His Spirit enter the system — entropy reverses, but only through the fire of the Spirit. The Church doesn’t drift into holiness; it must be driven there by the power of God.
But we are watching the Church drift into silence, while other worldviews are anything but silent. Secularism preaches its gospel daily through media and education. Humanism and relativism demand allegiance. False religions are boldly contending for the hearts of our children. Islam is taking over the west. They are immigrating in massive numbers. In Europe Muslims are having babies 10:1 compared to Europeans. In England, Mohammad is the number one name for boys, up 700%. In Minnesota they now broadcast the Islam call to prayer. Antisemitism is on the rise in numbers not seen since WWII, except it is happening world-wide.
So while many believers hesitate to speak the name of Jesus in public, others proclaim their devotion with unapologetic zeal. Pulpits are silent on current events and issues, like abortion, sexuality, paganism, Israel, and much more. All in the name of ‘balance’ but the piety is leading to an erosion in the Church that we’ve never seen before. The ELCA has deem some Scriptures inappropriate, and scoffers in the church barrate pastors who do speak up.
knowing this first of all, that scoffers will come in the last days with scoffing, following their own sinful desires. 4 They will say, “Where is the promise of his coming? For ever since the fathers fell asleep, all things are continuing as they were from the beginning of creation.” (2 Peter 3:3–4)
We’re watching society collapse in real time—shaking our heads and blaming the inmates for running the asylum. When it was the Church that handed them the keys. We are called to be the restraining force against evil, but through silence and compromise, we empowered it. The rot is spreading because the salt lost its flavor. We were commissioned to restrain evil, not to reason with it.
So the message to the Church is clear: Wake up. The battle for truth never sleeps. If ever there were a time to recover our voice, it is now. Our pulpits must be ablaze with truth, not neutered by neutrality. The world doesn’t need more cautious sermons — it needs courageous ones. The time for appeasement is over; the time for awakening has come.
Two thousand years ago, God broke four hundred years of prophetic silence by raising a man named John the Baptist—a forerunner crying in the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord.” Today, the same Spirit is stirring the remnant Church to take up that mantle again. We are the forerunners before the second coming of Christ, calling a drifting world to repentance, to truth, and to readiness.
Zechariah’s song in Luke 1 was not just ancient poetry—it was the trumpet blast that shattered Israel’s apathy and announced the dawn of redemption. And that is our task again: to lift our heads, strengthen our voices, and declare to this generation— “The King is coming. Prepare the way of the Lord.”
Now the time came for Elizabeth to give birth, and she bore a son. 58 And her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown great mercy to her, and they rejoiced with her. 59 And on the eighth day they came to circumcise the child. And they would have called him Zechariah after his father, 60 but his mother answered, “No; he shall be called John.” 61 And they said to her, “None of your relatives is called by this name.” 62 And they made signs to his father, inquiring what he wanted him to be called. 63 And he asked for a writing tablet and wrote, “His name is John.” And they all wondered.
64 And immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue loosed, and he spoke, blessing God. 65 And fear came on all their neighbors. And all these things were talked about through all the hill country of Judea, 66 and all who heard them laid them up in their hearts, saying, “What then will this child be?” For the hand of the Lord was with him.
Exegesis — The Silence Breaks
Luke 1:57–66 recounts the miraculous birth of John the Baptist. Elizabeth, long barren, gives birth in her old age. If you remember, Zechariah was a priest. He was chosen by lot for the honor of serving in the Temple at the Altar of Incense. Right there before the veil into the Holy of Holies, the Archangel Gabriel appears to him to deliver the news: in their old age, Zechariah and Elizabeth would have a son who would be the forerunner to the long awaited Messiah.
Zechariah responds in disbelief, a reflection of Israel’s apostasy. As a result, Gabriel renders Zechariah as mute. Unable to speak, he appears before the awaiting crowd outside of the temple, and instead of pronouncing a blessing over Israel (as was custom), he is silent. Also a reflection of the days he was living in. Mind you this all was the result of Israel’s disobedience, apostasy, and silence in the religious leaders.
Today we come to the joyous celebration of John’s birth. Elizabeth and all her friends and relatives are rejoicing in the Lord’s blessings. Zechariah, however, is still mute. On the eighth day, the circumcision ceremony begins, as prescribed by the Law of Moses. Custom dictated the child would be named after his father, Zechariah, but Elizabeth interrupts: “No, he shall be called John.”
The name John in Hebrew is Yohanan (????????) — from YHWH (Yahweh, the covenant name of God) and chanan (to show grace or favor). It literally means “Yahweh is gracious,” or “The Lord has shown favor.” Every syllable of that name was a sermon.
• It was God’s commentary on Israel’s long night of silence — “Though you have been faithless, I am still gracious.”
• It was a declaration that the coming of the Messiah was not because Israel deserved redemption, but because God delighted to give it.
• It was also a rebuke to Zechariah’s earlier doubt: grace, not unbelief, would have the final word.
The angel told Zechariah what to name his son (Luke 1:13) because this child’s identity would be a testimony to God’s unmerited favor breaking into a world grown cold under legalism and lifeless religion.
The law could diagnose sin, but grace was about to deliver sinners. And when Zechariah finally wrote, “His name is John,” his tongue was loosed — as if Heaven said, “Now that you agree with grace, you can speak again.” That’s what the Gospel always does: it loosens the tongue of those who believe and turns silence into praise. The moment he obeys, his voice returns — and out bursts a song that still shakes the Church awake 2,000 years later: “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has visited and redeemed his people…” (v. 68)
The once-silent priest becomes the prophetic voice. God’s Word breaks the silence — literally — as He did at creation, as He would at the incarnation, and as He will again when the trumpet sounds. Zechariah’s prophecy (vv. 67–80), the Benedictus, is no soft lullaby — it’s a war cry of redemption. He declares that God’s promises through David, Abraham, and the New Covenant are converging in this moment. The horn of salvation has been raised — meaning power, kingship, and deliverance are at hand. Israel’s Redeemer was about to step onto the stage of history.
The Pattern of the Forerunner
When God’s people lose their voice, God raises a forerunner. Israel had been silent for 400 years — no prophets, no fresh revelation. The priests went through the motions, Rome ruled the land, and spiritual apathy ruled the temple. But God was preparing a voice in the wilderness. Zechariah’s restored tongue symbolizes what happens when God’s people return to belief — their silence becomes a sermon. And that’s where we are again. The modern church has been muted by doubt, popularity and entertainment, the fear of offense, and curtailing to the culture. But God is raising forerunners — men and women who will prepare the way, speak truth without fear, and call a drifting people back to repentance - we are a remnant that must speak boldly with a passion to see the lost come to Christ and the backslidden put their hope in him again.
We must understand this clearly. Whenever the true Messiah is near, counterfeit saviors rise up. In Zechariah’s day, Israel longed for deliverance from Rome. They wanted a political Messiah, not a crucified one. Today, the same spirit moves again. Nations cry “peace, peace,” while arming for war. President Trump claims to bring “everlasting peace,” while Scripture tells us that only the Prince of Peace can do that. The return of hostages in Israel brings real relief and tears of gratitude — and yet, even in this mercy, the world’s narrative is turning prophetic. When a political leader proclaims “I will bring everlasting peace” in the Middle East, that’s not diplomacy — that’s deception in rehearsal.1 Thessalonians 5:3 warned us: While people are saying, “There is peace and security,” then sudden destruction will come upon them as labor pains come upon a pregnant woman, and they will not escape.
God’s covenant faithfulness demands our present faithfulness. Zechariah’s prophecy reaches back to David, Abraham, and Jeremiah — covenants separated by centuries, yet united by the promise that every fulfilled covenant is God reminding us today: “I will also keep My promise to return.” Zechariah saw the dawn of redemption; we are watching the twilight before its completion. The forerunner prepared the way for Christ’s first coming. The Church — you and I — are called to prepare the way for His second. “God keeps His word.”
Application — The Forerunner’s Message for the End of the Age
And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,
(Luke 1:76)
John’s birth wasn’t just the start of a ministry; it was the reawakening of a nation. For four hundred years, Israel had known silence—no prophet, no word from heaven. Then, out of the wilderness, a voice thundered where there had only been echoes. His call was simple, powerful, and yet offensive: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” Israel didn’t think they needed to repent and many in the Church today feel the same way
John wasn’t a polished priest in Jerusalem; he was a wild prophet in camel hair, eating locusts and honey, standing knee-deep in the Jordan, preaching to soldiers, tax collectors, and Pharisees alike. He confronted kings and commoners with the same authority because he wasn’t seeking an audience—he was preparing one. Every word he spoke burned through centuries of complacency. His message pierced religious pride, exposed moral decay, and made straight the path for the Messiah to the people.
The birth of John was Heaven’s alarm clock ringing in a nation that had fallen asleep. And today, that same alarm is sounding again. The Church must recover the voice of the forerunner—the courage to cry out in a culture that no longer blushes at sin and to declare with conviction: “Repent, for the King is coming.” That message hasn’t changed. The only difference is time — the kingdom is no longer merely “at hand.” It’s at the door.
So here’s the pastoral and prophetic word to the Church today:
• God is calling His people out of unbelief and back to conviction.
• He’s exposing political idolatry that masquerades as patriotism.
• He’s shaking a generation that confuses nationalism with the Kingdom of God.
• And He’s raising up voices — watchmen, pastors, ordinary believers — who will prepare the Bride for the Bridegroom. You will be a voice for God in the darkness?
The birth of John the Baptist was the wake-up call before the first coming. The events in Israel right now — the hostages’ return, global cries for peace, and a man boasting of “everlasting peace” — are the warning sirens before the second. It’s time for the Church to lift her head again and speak the words of Zechariah, “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for He has visited and redeemed His people.” Because the next time Heaven breaks its silence, it won’t be through a crying baby — it will be through a conquering King.
The Church at the Crossroads
Last week, we witnessed the miraculous birth of John the Baptist — the forerunner of Christ — and the moment when Zechariah’s voice returned, praising the God who keeps His covenants. John’s birth wasn’t just the start of a ministry; it was the reawakening of a nation. His message was simple, powerful, and offensive: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” That cry broke four hundred years of silence and called a complacent people back to God. But just as Israel was asleep when the Messiah came the first time, much of the modern Church is asleep as we await His return. We stand at a similar crossroads — one that determines whether we will remain the prophetic voice of truth or become another echo chamber for the world’s philosophies.
As Jan Markell of Olive Tree Ministries observed, the past two decades have seen a steep doctrinal decline across the Church. Biblical preaching has been displaced by social agendas: climate activism, critical theory, social justice, tolerance redefined, and the idol of “welcoming” without repentance. From pulpits once ablaze with the gospel, we now hear calls to lower carbon footprints, to soften doctrine, and to avoid offense. Markell calls it “the eleventh commandment”: Thou shalt not offend.
The result? The gospel of “What must I do to be saved?” has been traded for “How can I be liked?” Bible prophecy has been replaced by politics. Support for Israel has been silenced by fear of controversy. In many churches, the name of Jesus is still sung, but the truth of Jesus is no longer proclaimed. Markell warns — and she’s right — that this is the same path the mainline denominations walked a century ago. Once they traded truth for tolerance, they became spiritually irrelevant. And now, the evangelical Church teeters on that same edge. The signs of the times are flashing, and yet the pulpits grow quieter.
But friend, Christ has not abandoned His Church. He is still raising voices — forerunners — who will cry out once more: “Prepare the way of the Lord.” Just as John’s birth marked the dawn of grace, the faithful remnant today is called to herald the coming of the King. The question before us is urgent: will we awaken to our calling, or will we drift into the same silence that fell over Israel before John’s voice broke through the wilderness? The Church is at a crossroads. And as we return to Zechariah’s prophecy in Luke 1, we’ll see that God’s faithfulness to His covenants — Abrahamic, Davidic, and New — remains the only hope for a world, and a Church, in desperate need of awakening.
As we open our Bibles to Luke 1, we move from the noise of a compromised church back to the clarity of an unchanging covenant. Zechariah’s prophecy reminds us that while human institutions waver, God’s promises never do. When the Church loses her footing, the answer isn’t innovation — it’s returning to what God has already spoken.
In verse 71, Zechariah begins to sing of salvation from our enemies and the mercy promised to our fathers. He anchors Israel’s hope — and ours — not in political peace or social reform, but in the Abrahamic Covenant, the oath God swore to bless His people and make them a light to the nations. That’s where we begin today: tracing the faithfulness of God from Abraham to John the Baptist — and realizing that the same grace which awakened Israel then is still the only hope to awaken the Church now. Let’s step into the text and watch how God fulfills His word, even when His people have forgotten it.
And his father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and prophesied, saying, 68 “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has visited and redeemed his people 69 and has raised up a horn of salvation for us in the house of his servant David, 70 as he spoke by the mouth of his holy prophets from of old, 71 that we should be saved from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us; 72 to show the mercy promised to our fathers and to remember his holy covenant, 73 the oath that he swore to our father Abraham, to grant us 74 that we, being delivered from the hand of our enemies, might serve him without fear, 75 in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.
76 And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, 77 to give knowledge of salvation to his people in the forgiveness of their sins, 78 because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high 79 to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.”
Zechariah sings that God will save Israel “from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us” (v.71), doing so “to show the mercy promised to our fathers and to remember his holy covenant, the oath… to Abraham” (vv.72–73).
• Abrahamic Covenant (Gen 12; 15; 17): land, nation, blessing to all families of the earth — unilateral, irrevocable.
• Davidic Covenant (2 Sam 7): a king from David’s line, a throne established forever (“horn of salvation,” v.69).
Zechariah is not speaking in vague spiritual metaphors — he’s singing about literal promises made to the nation of Israel. He’s rejoicing that the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob is finally moving to fulfill His ancient word. The “enemies” in view are both temporal (the nations surrounding Israel) and spiritual (Satan’s long war against God’s chosen people). Zechariah sees the birth of John as the opening bell: God is moving from promise to fulfillment for the purpose of deliverance.
Salvation and Covenant (vv.74-75)
The word “saved” (soteria) in verse 71 carries both political and spiritual overtones — deliverance from oppression and redemption from sin. Zechariah sees in the coming of Messiah in the full scope of salvation:
• Deliverance from Israel’s enemies.
• Forgiveness through the New Covenant.
• Restoration to covenantal service in holiness and righteousness.
These were secured and fulfilled on the cross and will be completed in the second coming of Yeshua The cross was the down payment of every divine promise — the moment when covenant grace was sealed in blood. At Calvary, every oath God ever made to Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and David converged in one Person. Jesus didn’t just die for sinners; He died as the covenant-keeper on behalf of a covenant-breaking people.
The resurrection was Heaven’s declaration that every promise still stands — that redemption is not theoretical, it’s finished. Yet the story doesn’t end at the empty tomb. The same Messiah who fulfilled the covenants at His first coming will consummate them at His second. What was secured by His blood will be completed by His reign. The Abrahamic covenant finds its ultimate expression when Messiah sits on David’s throne in Jerusalem and Israel lives in the fullness of her promised peace under the rule of her King.
The cross was the victory; the Second Coming is the vindication. At the cross, He redeemed the people; at His return, He will restore the Kingdom
The Forerunner’s Assignment (76-77)
“And you, child… will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people in the forgiveness of their sins.” Here, Zechariah turns his face, fully understanding the prophetic significance of his life. But even more powerful This is New Covenant language (Jer 31:31–34): forgiveness written on the heart. John’s preaching of repentance clears the highway for Messiah’s atoning work.
“Behold, the days are coming, declares the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah, 32 not like the covenant that I made with their fathers on the day when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt, my covenant that they broke, though I was their husband, declares the Lord. 33 For this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, declares the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts. And I will be their God, and they shall be my people. 34 And no longer shall each one teach his neighbor and each his brother, saying, ‘Know the Lord,’ for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, declares the Lord. For I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more.”
The New Covenant is God’s final and eternal promise — written not on tablets of stone, but on the hearts of His people. It was sealed in the blood of Jesus, the true Passover Lamb, and confirmed by His resurrection. Through it, our sins are forgiven, the Holy Spirit dwells within us, and our relationship with God is no longer distant but personal and permanent. What began at the cross will be completed at His return — when Israel is restored, justice reigns, and the Kingdom of Messiah fills the earth forever.
Mercy as Sunrise, Peace as a Path (vv 78-79)
“Because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high, to give light to those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.”
Zechariah’s prophecy crescendos with a breathtaking image — the sunrise from on high. The Greek term anatole means “rising” or “dawn” and is often translated “Dayspring.” It evokes the picture of light breaking through darkness after the long night of sin and silence. The prophet Isaiah foresaw this moment centuries earlier: “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light” (Isa. 9:2). That light is not a philosophy or moral system — it is a Person, the Messiah Himself. John would later declare, “In Him was life, and the life was the light of men” (John 1:4). The “tender mercy” Zechariah sings about is God incarnate — Yeshua, the dawn of divine compassion stepping into human night.
Zechariah continues, saying this sunrise will “guide our feet into the way of peace.” The Hebrew concept of shalom goes far beyond the absence of conflict; it speaks of wholeness, righteousness, and restored relationship with God. This peace cannot be legislated by governments or brokered through treaties. It is not a geopolitical achievement — it is a redemptive reality purchased at Calvary. As Paul writes, “Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ” (Rom. 5:1). The path of peace is paved not with politics but with repentance and faith.
Here, Zechariah captures the entire gospel in one prophetic sentence: God’s mercy shines into darkness, exposes sin, and then leads the redeemed into the light of reconciliation. The Sunrise has already broken the horizon at the first coming of Christ, and soon the full Sun of Righteousness will rise at His second coming. In that moment, the same light that first dawned in Bethlehem will blaze from Jerusalem, flooding the world with the peace that only the Prince of Peace can bring.
Spiritual Truths
A. Covenant Faithfulness in a Chaotic World
Zechariah ties Jesus’ arrival to Abraham and David. Translation: God keeps time by His covenants, not by the news cycle. That’s our confidence as the headlines swing.
B. There Is No Kingdom Without the New Covenant
Before the crown comes the cross; before reign comes forgiveness (v.77). Any eschatology that chases kingdom benefits without New-Covenant repentance will always settle for counterfeits. We see this happen in Kingdom Now Theology and NAR circles.
C. Mercy Moves First; Repentance Makes Way
The “tender mercy” of God initiates (v.78). John’s call to repent is mercy’s invitation, not menace. God’s light finds people who are sitting in darkness and guides them into peace.
D. Peace Is a Person Before It Is a Program
Zechariah’s “way of peace” is Christ’s path, not a politician’s promise. The Prince of Peace is the only One who can speak “everlasting” without lying. Political peace is, at best, a ceasefire; prophetic peace is reconciliation with God.
E. Forerunners Before the First Coming; Watchmen Before the Second
John “prepared His ways.” The Church now bears that forerunner mantle: prepare the Bride, warn the world, exalt the Son.
Application — From John’s Cradle to Today’s Crisis
So, what does this mean for us today? We rejoice in mercy. Every time a hostage returns home, every life spared, every glimpse of grace in a dark world — we give thanks. Those moments are not random; they’re reminders that God’s mercy still breaks through the madness.
But mercy should never make us naïve. When commentators begin to declare that a political figure is “bringing everlasting peace,” the watchman in your spirit should sound the alarm. The Bible warns that in the last days, “While they are saying, ‘Peace and safety,’ then sudden destruction will come upon them” (1 Thess. 5:3). The world’s peace is a mirage — a flash of calm on the surface while spiritual darkness deepens beneath. True peace isn’t found at a summit or signed on a treaty; it was secured on a cross. It’s not delivered by presidents but by the Prince of Peace. Don’t mistake temporary relief for eternal redemption. Keep your eyes fixed not on the politicians who promise peace, but on the Messiah who is peace.
Guard Your Doctrine, Strengthen Your Roots
Apostasy doesn’t begin with open rebellion — it begins with subtle neglect. When the Church stops teaching sound doctrine, the flock slowly forgets what truth sounds like. When we trade expository preaching for entertainment, theology for therapy, and conviction for comfort, we open the door for deception. That’s why Paul warned Timothy, “Guard the good deposit entrusted to you” (2 Tim. 1:14) and again, “The time will come when people will not endure sound teaching” (2 Tim. 4:3). That time has come. The only antidote to drifting is rooting.
On a personal level, strengthen your roots by anchoring in Scripture daily — not devotionals about the Bible, but the Bible itself. Saturate your mind with the Word of God until falsehoods sound foreign. Know your doctrine, because you can’t defend what you don’t understand. On a corporate level, the Church must recover biblical literacy and doctrinal depth. Small groups should be Scripture studies, not social clubs. Sermons must feed the sheep, not flatter the crowd. Leaders must once again measure ministry success by faithfulness, not by followers. The deeper the roots, the stronger the stand. A shallow Church will always collapse under cultural pressure, but a grounded Church can weather any storm.
Walk in the Spirit, Not in the System
Apostasy isn’t just a crisis of doctrine — it’s a crisis of dependence. When we rely on systems instead of the Spirit, we might keep our programs running, but our power fades. The Church can fill calendars and still be empty of conviction. We can perfect our methods and yet lose our message. Paul warned, “Having begun in the Spirit, are you now being perfected by the flesh?” (Gal. 3:3). The Church that was birthed in fire cannot be sustained by fog machines The same Spirit who filled Zechariah, empowered John, and raised Christ from the dead is the One who fuels our endurance today. Without Him, we drift from revelation to reaction — from divine guidance to human gimmicks. To walk in the Spirit means cultivating daily communion with God — prayer that listens, obedience that acts, discernment that resists deception. It means measuring success not by growth charts but by spiritual fruit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control (Gal. 5:22–23). If we would avoid apostasy, we must return to the power that started the Church in the first place. Systems have their place, but only the Spirit gives life.
Conclusion
Zechariah’s song began with silence and ended with sunrise. God broke four hundred years of darkness with a baby’s cry — a forerunner’s voice announcing, “Prepare the way of the Lord.” Today, that same Spirit is calling His Church to lift its voice again. We are not spectators of prophecy; we are participants in it. The signs are converging — Israel surrounded by enemies, nations crying “peace and safety,” morality collapsing, truth despised, apostasy rising. The stage is set exactly as Scripture foretold. But don’t miss this — before Messiah came the first time, there was a voice crying in the wilderness. Before He comes again, there will be a remnant crying in the wilderness once more. That’s us.
The Church must recover the voice of the forerunner. We must be the watchmen on the wall, the torchbearers in the night, the proclaimers of truth in a culture allergic to it. This is not the hour to retreat; it’s the hour to stand, speak, and shine. The sunrise Zechariah sang about is about to break over the horizon. Every headline, every shaking, every sign points to one reality: Messiah is coming soon for His Church.-
