Saint John and the Revelation

He was told to write what he saw—but what is the Revelation really trying to tell us?

Around AD 95, during the rule of the Roman emperor Domitian, John was the last of the Twelve Apostles.

Christian groups had spread across the Roman Empire. Many believers refused to worship the emperor and spoke openly about Jesus as Lord. This was seen as a threat to Roman order. John was known for that message, and he did not stop teaching it.

Instead of killing him, the authorities chose exile. John was sent to Patmos, a small rocky island used to keep people away from cities and public life. He could not leave. He was cut off from churches, friends, and normal routines.

That is where the Book of Revelation begins.

While living on Patmos, John spent his days in prayer and quiet endurance. On one Lord’s day, while fully awake and praying, he experienced visions. He heard a voice, saw scenes, and was shown things beyond his own time. He was told to write what he saw.

John did not write explanations. He wrote descriptions. Again and again, he uses phrases like “I saw something like…” or “it appeared as…”. This shows that he was trying to describe things he did not have clear names for. John lived in the first century, and his language came from that world.

When someone sees something unfamiliar, the human response is to compare it to what is already known. So when John saw future realities, he described them using images from his own time. This is why Revelation is filled with symbols.

Over the centuries, people have tried to read Revelation in a literal way. Timelines were created. Predictions were made. Each generation believed it had found exact meanings, and each generation reached different conclusions. What remains steady is not the speculation, but the message.

Revelation was written for believers living under pressure. It reminded them that history is not random, that faithfulness matters, and that evil does not have the final word. John was not asked to explain the future. He was asked to witness and to write.

Whatever the images point to in detail, the direction is clear. Be ready. Stay faithful. Live awake.

That is the heart of the Revelation.

⌨ ᴛʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᴏᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʙˡᵘᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵉᵐ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜ ᵇˡᵒᵍ

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A Peaceful Church on New Year’s Eve

A peaceful church. A burned roof. A quiet question.

A quiet night, a burned memory

On the night of December 31, 2007, after the New Year’s Eve Mass, a fire broke out at the Mary Immaculate Parish Nature Church in Moonwalk Village, Las Piñas. A rocket-type firework landed on the roof and started the fire.

The Mass had already ended. The church was empty. No one was inside. No one was hurt.

The church, founded in 1987, was known as a quiet place. It was built using natural materials and designed to feel calm and open. People went there to pray, sit quietly, and think. That night, after everyone had gone home, the church was peaceful—until fireworks from outside reached it.

The roof was damaged by the fire. Later on, the church was repaired and reopened. Life continued.

Fireworks are often used because people believe noise drives bad luck away. The louder, the better. That night showed something else. The noise did not drive danger away. It brought it closer.

It is also good that no one was inside the church when the fire happened. If it had happened earlier, people could have been hurt. Silence, at that moment, kept everyone safe.

Sometimes, when things are very loud, people forget what already went wrong in the past. Injuries. Fires. Close calls. The noise outside becomes so strong that it covers the noise inside—the part that remembers and learns.

The peaceful church shows a simple truth. Loud does not always mean safe. Quiet does not mean weak.

Maybe welcoming the new year does not need explosions.

Maybe it starts better with calm.
Maybe it starts with peace.

⌨ ᴛʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᴏᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʙˡᵘᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵉᵐ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜ ᵇˡᵒᵍ

Digital Albums by Darem Placer on Bandcamp
Listen. Buy. Download.