Maranantha: Our Lord is Coming Soon

The word that beats beneath this hope-filled title is a cry and a confession. Maranatha — Aramaic plea meaning “Our Lord, come” — is the church’s heart-language when she remembers that Jesus may come at any moment and that His appearing is the blessed hope that braces joy and steadies holiness (1 Corinthians 16:22; Titus 2:13). To live by Maranatha is to keep watch with lamps lit, not in fear of a dark world, but in love for a risen Lord who promised to come again and receive His own to Himself, that where He is, they may be also (John 14:1–3).

Believers in our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ live with their eyes up. We expect Him today, and that expectation draws our love toward things above, shapes our daily choices, loosens our grip on passing treasures, and softens our hearts toward one another. “Our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ,” who will transform our lowly bodies to be like His glorious body when He comes (Philippians 3:20–21). The watchword Maranatha gathers that eagerness into one small prayer: Come, Lord.

Words: 2540 / Time to read: 13 minutes

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Historical and Cultural Background

The first Christians learned to pray in the language of their Lord’s homeland, and one of their most treasured words was Maranatha. Paul closes his first letter to Corinth with a sober warning and a bright plea: “If anyone does not love the Lord, let that person be cursed! Come, Lord!” (1 Corinthians 16:22). That final cry, preserved as Maranatha, belongs to a church living between promise and fulfillment. Jesus had been taken up from the Mount of Olives, and the angels had said He would return “in the same way you have seen him go into heaven,” so the people of the Way held His promise near and made it part of their daily speech (Acts 1:9–11). Hope became a habit.

They needed such a habit. The congregations in Judea and the broader Roman world were small, often pressured, and always tempted to settle into the age’s rhythms. Yet their gatherings pulsed with expectation. They met “on the first day of the week” because the Lord had conquered the grave on that day, and they broke bread and prayed, hearing again the words of the Lord who would “not drink of the fruit of the vine from now on until that day” when He would drink it new with them in His Father’s kingdom (Acts 20:7; Matthew 26:29). The Supper itself trained their hearts to look forward. Every time they ate the bread and drank the cup, they “proclaimed the Lord’s death until he comes,” so remembrance and expectation braided together at the Table (1 Corinthians 11:26).

The watchfulness of those early believers did not float free from Scripture. The prophets had promised a day when the Lord would set things right, judge wickedness, and save His people, a day both terrible and beautiful called “the day of the Lord” (Isaiah 2:12; Joel 2:31). Jesus took that promise and taught His followers to stay awake, to be dressed for service, and to keep their lamps burning like servants waiting for their master to return from a wedding banquet, ready to open the door the moment he knocks (Luke 12:35–37). The church’s cry Maranatha therefore stands within a long story: the Lord who came once in humility will come again in power and glory, and His people live as those who have heard and believed that promise (Revelation 22:12; Revelation 22:20).

Biblical Narrative

The Lord Himself planted this hope. On the night before the cross He said, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me… I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am” (John 14:1–3). After the resurrection He appeared to many witnesses, and when He ascended, heaven’s messengers explained that the same Jesus would return in the same way He went (Acts 1:3; Acts 1:11). From the start, then, Christian hope was tied to a Person and a promise, not to a theory about history. The church looked for Him.

Paul gave flesh and bone to that hope for grieving saints. He wrote that “the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet of God,” and that the dead in Christ would rise first, and then those alive and remaining would be “caught up” together with them to meet the Lord in the air, “and so we will be with the Lord forever,” so “encourage one another with these words” (1 Thessalonians 4:16–18). He added that we are not appointed to wrath but to receive salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, “so then, let us not be like others, who are asleep, but let us be awake and sober” (1 Thessalonians 5:6–9). Watchfulness here is not worry; it is alert love.

The letters continue this line. James tells believers to be patient “until the Lord’s coming,” like a farmer who waits for the autumn and spring rains, and he says, “the Judge is standing at the door,” so they should “stand firm” and refuse grumbling (James 5:7–9). Peter explains that the Lord’s seeming delay is not slowness but mercy, because He is “patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance,” and he urges holy and godly lives as we look for and hurry along the day of God (2 Peter 3:9–12). John shows how this hope purifies: “when Christ appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is. All who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure” (1 John 3:2–3). In every voice the same music plays: look for Him, live clean, stand firm, keep loving.

The last page of Scripture ends where the church longs to begin each day. The risen Jesus says, “Yes, I am coming soon,” and the church answers, “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus,” which is Maranatha in the language of prayer (Revelation 22:20). This closing dialogue is not a coda; it is a call to live the whole Christian life under the bright promise of His appearing. The word “soon” trains the heart to measure time by faith rather than by weariness, because with the Lord a day is like a thousand years and a thousand years like a day, yet His promise stands with perfect certainty (2 Peter 3:8–9). He has come once to save; He will come again to gather, to reward, and to reign (Hebrews 9:28; Revelation 22:12).

Theological Significance

Maranatha gathers the doctrine of Christ’s return into a simple, life-shaping cry. It says that our hope is personal and imminent. We are not waiting for an idea to win; we are waiting for the Lord Himself to appear. Imminent does not mean we set dates; it means we live ready, because nothing remains that must happen before the Lord may come for His own as He promised (Matthew 24:42; 1 Thessalonians 4:16–17). This readiness is the church’s posture in the present age. The blessed hope is not escape from duty; it is power for duty, because “the grace of God… teaches us to say ‘No’ to ungodliness” while “we wait for the blessed hope—the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ” (Titus 2:11–13).

This hope comforts grief without minimizing loss. The saints in Thessalonica were taught not to sorrow “like the rest of mankind, who have no hope,” because those who sleep in Jesus will rise, and together we will “be with the Lord forever” (1 Thessalonians 4:13–18). Grief remains real, but it is braided with comfort. The Lord’s coming seals the promise that death will not have the last word over any of His own. That is why Paul ends his teaching with an imperative: encourage one another with these words. Maranatha keeps that comfort near the lips of a church that sits beside hospital beds and graves.

The watchword also guards holiness by turning eyes toward a coming face. John says that seeing Christ will change us fully, and that this future vision purifies now, because those who hope to see Him want to resemble Him when He appears (1 John 3:2–3). Peter ties the same hope to holy conduct and godly character as we look for the day of God; he invites believers to live as those who know that the present order will give way to a new heavens and a new earth “where righteousness dwells” (2 Peter 3:11–13). Holiness becomes less a checklist and more a longing to please the One we love and expect.

Within the wide plan of God, Maranatha fits a dispensational pattern that honors both the church’s present calling and Israel’s future. In this age God is taking from the nations a people for His name and building the body of Christ by the Spirit, gathering Jew and Gentile into one new man in Christ through faith (Acts 15:14; Ephesians 2:14–16). The promises to ethnic Israel remain sure in His wise timetable, so that “all Israel will be saved” in a future turning when the Deliverer comes from Zion, “for God’s gifts and his call are irrevocable” (Romans 11:26–29). The church’s hope looks for the Lord Himself and rests in His promise of deliverance from the coming wrath, even as we pray for the peace of Jerusalem and for the salvation of all who will believe (1 Thessalonians 1:10; Psalm 122:6; Romans 10:1). Maranatha therefore keeps the church distinct in hope while confident in God’s fidelity to every promise.

Finally, Maranatha fuels mission. Peter says the Lord delays in mercy to gather more into repentance, and Paul ties hope to holy ambition so that the gospel may spread while time remains (2 Peter 3:9; Romans 15:20). The church that longs for the Lord does not fold its hands; it opens them. It sends, gives, prays, and goes, because the Lord’s coming will find servants at work and will crown quiet faithfulness that seemed small at the time (Matthew 24:46; 1 Corinthians 15:58). Expectation sharpens focus. We invest in what lasts because our King is at the door.

Spiritual Lessons and Application

Live today like a person who may see Jesus before nightfall. That sentence need not breed fear or frenzy. It breeds love. The One who is coming is the One who loved you and gave Himself for you, the One whose voice you already know from the Scriptures and whose presence you already taste by the Spirit (Galatians 2:20; Romans 8:23). When routine grows heavy or temptation calls for your attention, speak to your own heart with the same short prayer the early church kept on its tongue: Come, Lord. Such a prayer sweeps cobwebs from the mind and draws courage into ordinary tasks, because you are working for a Lord who may knock at any moment and who delights to find you steady at your post (Luke 12:36–37).

Let this hope purify your choices. John’s words are simple and searching: “All who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure” (1 John 3:3). Ask what will matter on the day you see Him. Words will matter; speak them for building up. Thoughts will matter; dwell on what is true, noble, and right. Private choices will matter; walk in the light where His blood keeps cleansing and where fellowship stays real (Ephesians 4:29; Philippians 4:8; 1 John 1:7). This is not the strain of fear; it is the freedom of love that wants to please the Beloved. Holiness becomes a glad dress rehearsal for the wedding day.

Carry comfort into every sorrow with the Lord’s promise on your tongue. In hospital rooms and quiet kitchens, tell the truth that those who fall asleep in Jesus will rise when He calls, and that “we will be with the Lord forever” (1 Thessalonians 4:16–18). Pray that this comfort will land not as a platitude but as a pledge, because it is anchored in the Lord Himself. Remind your own heart that death is not lord over any who belong to the Lord, and that He will wipe away every tear when He makes all things new (Revelation 21:4–5). Grief then becomes a place where hope sings through tears.

Let Maranatha shape your use of time and treasure. “The world and its desires pass away, but whoever does the will of God lives forever,” so spend yourself on what endures with Him (1 John 2:17). Meet with the saints and stir up love and good works “all the more as you see the Day approaching,” because shared hope grows strong in shared worship and service (Hebrews 10:24–25). Open your home and your hands. Practice mercy and justice in Jesus’ name. Lay up treasure in heaven where thieves do not break in and moth does not destroy, because your heart will follow what you value most (Matthew 6:19–21). The nearness of the Lord’s return turns ordinary rooms into places of eternal work.

Keep your confession clear and your eyes kind. “We wait for the blessed hope—the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ,” so say His name with clarity and live His love with patience (Titus 2:13). Speak of His coming without harshness, and refuse mockery when others doubt, remembering that “the Lord is not slow… but patient,” and that you yourself stand by mercy (2 Peter 3:9). Pray for the salvation of neighbors and nations while there is still day. If the Judge is at the door, then the door of grace is still open, and the church should hold it wide.

Conclusion

Maranatha is a small word with a wide horizon. It remembers a promise spoken by the Lord who came once to save and who will come again to gather His own, to reward faithfulness, and to set the world right. It keeps the church awake with a love-shaped alertness that purifies life, comforts sorrow, energizes mission, and steadies fellowship. It also honors God’s larger pattern: in this present age He is forming the church by grace through faith in His Son, while His covenant promises to Israel remain sure in His timing, so that all His words will stand and all His people will rejoice when the Lord appears (Romans 11:28–29; Titus 2:13). Until that day, we live and work and worship with the same short prayer close to the lips and warm in the heart: Come, Lord.

“He who testifies to these things says, ‘Yes, I am coming soon.’ Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.” (Revelation 22:20)