Today is the 23rd of September 2025. and here at my desk I listen to it – a buzz, a trembling, a whisper among believers: Could this be the day? The air feels charged, like creation itself is holding its breath. Some speak with conviction, declaring that the rapture is near, even imminent. Others respond with caution, quoting rightly that “no man knows the day or the hour” (Matthew 24:36).
Yet beneath the debate, a deeper question pulses through the hearts of the faithful: Are we ready? Not ready in theory, but ready in truth. Ready in love. Ready in surrender. Ready to meet the One who gave everything for us.
Because whether it’s today, tomorrow, or a thousand years from now, the call remains the same: Live as those who watch. Live as those who wait. Live as those who belong to another Kingdom.
This moment, this very breath, is a gift. A chance to realign, to repent, to rejoice. An opportunity to ask ourselves not just when He will come, but how we will be found when He does.
When I first heard the rumours, I felt a jolt of fear – sharp and sobering. What if I’m not ready? What if my family isn’t? The thought gripped me like a sudden wind, stirring questions I hadn’t dared to ask. Had I done enough? Had I loved well? Had I truly surrendered everything? It wasn’t just fear of being left behind – it was the ache of unfinished prayers, unreconciled relationships, and the longing to see those I love safe in His arms.
But then, unexpectedly, joy rose up. Not the fleeting kind, but a holy anticipation. A whisper from heaven that said, “Lift your eyes.” And for a moment, I did. I imagined it: the skies splitting open, the trumpet sounding, and the veil between earth and eternity torn away. I saw us, His bride, caught up in glory, leaving behind the hatred, the pain, the brokenness of this world. No more tears. No more striving. No more waiting.
Just Jesus. Face to face. The One we’ve longed for. The One who knows our name.
What if paradise was only a breath away? What if this very day was the day we stepped into forever? Would we be found watching? Would we be found worshipping? Would we be found ready?
Let’s pause and ask ourselves:
- Have we surrendered fully to our Maker?
- Have we loved deeply, forgiven freely?
- Have we walked the extra mile, turned the other cheek?
- Have we found Him in the trenches and followed Him on the mountaintops?
- Was He the first thought in our morning and the last whisper at night?
- Has the world seen whose we are?
Did the sick know where to find the Doctor? Not just the physically ill, but the soul-sick—the ones whose wounds aren’t visible but run deep. The ones crushed by grief, addiction, shame, or despair. Did they know there was a Healer who doesn’t just treat symptoms but restores wholeness? Did they hear, through our lives, that Jesus still touches lepers, still calms storms, still walks into tombs and calls the dead to rise?
Did the broken know where to find healing? The ones whose hearts have been shattered by betrayal, abandonment, or loss. The ones who sit in silence, wondering if anyone sees them. Did they know that the God who binds up the brokenhearted (Psalm 147:3) is near? That He doesn’t discard the fractured, but rebuilds beauty from ashes? Did our words, our presence, our prayers point them to the One who never turns away?
Did the weary know where to find rest? The mothers carrying burdens too heavy to name. The fathers worn thin by provision and pressure. The children confused by a world that feels unsafe. Did they know that Jesus still whispers, “Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28)? Did they see in us a people who live from rest, not just run toward it? Did they feel safe enough to lay down their load?
“The sick will find the Doctor when the healed remember to point the way.”
– Gwennie
Because if today were the day, if the trumpet sounded and eternity broke through, what would matter most is not how much we knew, but how well we loved. Not how loud we preached, but how clearly we pointed. Not how perfect we seemed, but how available we were.
Let it be said of us: The sick found the Doctor. The broken found healing. The weary found rest. And all of it led them to Jesus.
Whether the trumpet sounds today or not, let this be a day of reckoning – not with fear, but with faith. Not the kind of reckoning that leaves us trembling in dread, but the kind that calls us higher. The kind that invites us to examine our hearts, our habits, our hopes. The kind that whispers, “Live like heaven is real. Because it is.”
Let this be the day we choose surrender over striving. The day we lay down bitterness and pick up grace. The day we stop waiting for “someday” and start walking in obedience today.
Let it stir us – not into panic, but into purpose. Let it awaken us – not to timelines, but to truth. Let it remind us that eternity isn’t far off – it’s pressing in. It’s woven into every act of love, every moment of mercy, every breath of worship.
Whether the skies split open this afternoon or the sun sets quietly on another ordinary day, we are one heartbeat closer to home. And when that trumpet does sound – whenever it may be – may it find us faithful. May it find us loving. May it find us anchored in hope.
“Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come.” — Matthew 24:42
If Today Was the Day
– Gwennie (Woman Anchored In Hope)
If today was the day, would we rise with joy or tremble in delay?
Would our lamps be burning, hearts awake, or would we plead for one more breath to make?
If today was the day, would love be found in all we say?
Did we forgive the wound, release the debt, or hold the pain we should forget?
If today was the day, did we walk the narrow way?
Did we find Him in the dust and climb the heights, or chase the world and miss the Light?
If today was the day, did the sick know where to pray?
Did our lives point to the Healer’s hand, or did we build on sinking sand?
If today was the day, did we live as those who stay anchored
not in fear or fame, but in the power of Jesus’ name?
If today was the day, and the trumpet called us far away,
may we be found – not perfect, but true – ready, surrendered,
longing for You.
Lord Jesus, If today were the day You called us home, may we be found ready, not in perfection, but in surrender. Not in fear, but in faith. Not clinging to this world, but longing for You. Search our hearts, O God. Where we’ve withheld love, soften us. Where we’ve held grudges, free us. Where we’ve grown weary, strengthen us. Where we’ve lost sight of eternity, lift our eyes.
Let Your name be the first on our lips and the last in our thoughts. Let our lives reflect whose we are, in the trenches and on the mountaintops, in the quiet and in the crowd. May the sick find the Healer through our witness. May the broken find the Restorer through our love. May the world see the light of Christ in us, burning, not flickering.
Whether You come today, tomorrow, or in a thousand tomorrows, we choose to live ready. We choose to live surrendered. We choose to live anchored in hope.
Come, Lord Jesus. Amen.
