The Indictment of the Silent

The silence that currently blankets the modern pulpit is not a mere lapse in memory; it is a calculated, prophetic treason. As we survey the landscape of the year 2026, we find a church that has become remarkably adept at discussing the psychological comforts of the present while remaining willfully mute regarding the physical reality of the future. This is the Great Falling Away made manifest—not merely in the empty pews of the dying, but in the crowded cathedrals of the comfortable. We are witnessing a generation of leaders who have become as dumb dogs that cannot bark, refusing to warn the sheep that the Sun of Righteousness is about to break through the clouds. They have scrubbed the Blessed Hope from their mission statements to avoid the offense of the cross, but in doing so, they have left the people defenseless against the scoffers who walk after their own lusts. The statistics of our day reveal a church that has traded its birthright for a mess of pottage, preferring felt-needs and social relevance over the unshakeable truth of the Second Coming of Jesus Christ.

These mockers stand in our streets and sit in our pews, sneering with a polished, modern arrogance, Where is the promise of his coming? for since the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as they were from the beginning of the creation. But their ignorance is willful and their judgment is certain. They forget that the same Word which spoke the world into existence also reserved it unto fire against the day of judgment and perdition of ungodly men. We refuse to participate in this conspiracy of silence that treats the return of the King as a fairy tale or a distant metaphor. To remain quiet in this hour is to be complicit in the blindness of the masses. We will not be polite about the end of the world, nor will we apologize for the urgency of our cry. The world is not evolving into a utopia; it is ripening for the sickle, and the harvest of the earth is nearly ripe.

The pulpit was never intended to be a podium for self-help; it was intended to be a watchtower. Yet, the watchmen have fallen asleep at their posts, lulled by the rhythm of a world that promises tomorrow will be just like today. They speak of “best lives now” while the Judge is standing at the door. They build earthly empires as if they intend to stay here forever, forgetting that we are but strangers and pilgrims on the earth. This silence is an indictment of a leadership that fears the face of man more than the face of God. But the Word of God remains unchangeable: For the day of the Lord will come as a thief in the night; in the which the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat, the earth also and the works that are therein shall be burned up. If the shepherds will not cry out this warning, then the very stones will find a voice to declare the majesty and the terror of His appearing.

Our conviction is anchored in a reality so physical, so literal, and so terrifyingly glorious that the modern mind shrinks from it in terror. We do not look for a “vibe,” a “spirit,” or a vague philosophy of love to slowly permeate the earth until a man-made utopia is realized. We look for a King. The modern scholar, draped in the robes of intellectualism, attempts to “spiritualize” the return of Christ, turning the King into a mere influence and His kingdom into a state of mind. They wish to keep Him safely tucked away in the pages of history or the metaphors of the heart, but the Word of God demands a physical footstep on the Mount of Olives. When the Scripture speaks of His “appearing,” it does not speak of a subtle shift in human consciousness or a gradual improvement of the social order; it speaks of a brilliance that shatters the fabric of time and a presence that demands the bowing of every knee.

The early church did not go to the lions for a metaphor; they did not endure the flame for a poetic sentiment. They died for a Man. They understood with a clarity that puts our modern lukewarmness to shame that if the tomb was empty, the throne must be filled. They lived in the constant, breathless expectation of a physical arrival. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first. This is the cornerstone of our faith—the physical, bodily return of the Lord Jesus Christ. If we remove the literal nature of this event, we have no Gospel. A Christ who does not return to claim His creation is a Christ who did not finish His work. But we know that He is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the ending, the one which is, and which was, and which is to come, the Almighty.

We refuse to blend into the shadows of a dying culture that treats the Second Coming like a fairy tale or a symbolic myth used to comfort the grieving. We stand as watchmen upon the wall, crying out that the night is far spent and the day is at hand. The evidence of His appearing is not found in the approval of the world, but in the unshakeable promises of the KJV. Behold, he cometh with clouds; and every eye shall see him, and they also which pierced him: and all kindreds of the earth shall wail because of him. Even so, Amen. This is not a suggestion; it is a summons. The King is not merely “coming in our hearts”—He is coming to the earth to judge in righteousness and to reign in glory. He is coming to put all enemies under His feet, and the last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

The evidence is overwhelming for those who have eyes to see. We see a world groaning and travailing in pain, waiting for the manifestation of the sons of God. We see a political and social order that is crumbling under the weight of its own iniquity, proving that no human hand can steady the ark of this civilization. We must occupy until He comes, and that occupation requires a total reorganization of our lives around the fact that the King is at the door. We do not look for the signs of the times to satisfy a morbid curiosity; we look for the Son from heaven, whom God raised from the dead, even Jesus, which delivered us from the wrath to come. Every heartbeat should be a countdown, every sunrise a reminder that we are one day closer to the shout that wakes the dead.

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The Declaration of the Remnant

We launch this campaign as a formal declaration of war against spiritual apathy. The Great Falling Away thrives on the cold neglect of prophecy, for a people without a vision of the eternal future will always perish in the fleeting pleasures of the present. By removing the Blessed Hope from the center of the faith, the modern church has created a hollow vacuum, a space quickly filled by the rot of worldliness and the vanity of self-serving programs. But we are commanded by a higher authority to be looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ. This “looking” is not a passive observation; it is an active, persistent, and unyielding posture of the soul. It is the cry of the Remnant that refuses to be muted by the crushing pressure of social relevance or the fearful silence of the hireling shepherd. We are not interested in being contemporary; we are interested in being eternal.

We stand in the gap today to proclaim that the doctrine of the Lord’s Return is not a fringe interest for the curious or a hobby for the eccentric, but the very heartbeat of the Christian faith. It is the finish line of history, the moment when every wrong is righted and every knee is forced to bow. Therefore, let it be known to the scoffers, to the lukewarm, and to the silent pulpits of this age: we will not shut up. We will dominate the conversation with the weight of the Word until the atmosphere of this culture is saturated with the warning of His coming. We will repeat the message until our voices fail or the Trumpet sounds, for we are not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ, nor are we ashamed of His return. We do not look for a better version of this fallen system, nor do we seek to build an earthly kingdom with wood, hay, and stubble. We look for the New Jerusalem, whose builder and maker is God.

We look for a Man with nail-scarred hands and a garment dipped in blood, whose name is called The Word of God. This manifesto, and every word that follows it, is our line in the sand. We reject the lukewarm spirit of 2026 and choose instead the narrow, lonely way of expectation. We recognize that the end of all things is at hand: be ye therefore sober, and watch unto prayer. This sobriety is our shield against the intoxication of a world that thinks it has forever. We choose to live as if the King is at the door, for the King is indeed at the door. We will occupy, we will work, and we will witness, but we will do so with our eyes fixed on the clouds. Even so, come, Lord Jesus. The time for whispering has passed; the midnight cry must be heard once more by every soul who has ears to hear.

As the shadows lengthen and the world settles into its final, fatal slumber, will you join us in the watch, or will you allow the silence of the age to muffle the sound of the approaching King? We have made our choice. We stand fast, for the King is at the door.