Even in just a handful of verses from Revelation 1, there is enough truth to preach a sermon from almost every line. Today I want to focus on one statement that sits at the heart of the passage—Jesus’ words: “I am the First and the Last.”
We will look at what those words meant for the apostle John as he heard them, and what they mean for us as we live in the middle of history—between the beginning God has already written and the ending God has already promised.
The words come in Revelation 1:17–18. John writes: “Then he placed his right hand on me and said: ‘Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last. I am the Living One; I was dead, and now look, I am alive for ever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades.’”
To appreciate the comfort and authority in that declaration, we need to remember where John was when he received it.
John was on the island of Patmos—exiled for his faithful witness to the Word of God. Patmos functioned like an Alcatraz of the Roman Empire: a remote outpost, cut off from the mainland, where unwanted prisoners could be controlled and forgotten.
It was rocky and harsh—about ten miles long and six miles wide. John had not chosen a quiet retreat for spiritual reflection; he had been removed from churches he loved and placed somewhere life would be hard.
His “crime” was simple: he kept preaching Christ to anyone who would listen. That kind of faithful testimony unsettled the authorities, so they silenced him the way empires often try to silence believers—by isolating them.
Patmos was also known for its stone and marble. Mining required labour, and prisoners provided it. So exile there was not just loneliness; it was exhaustion. This is the backdrop for Revelation: a faithful servant, pressured by hardship, receiving a vision of the risen and reigning Christ.
John tells us that it was “on the Lord’s Day” that the Spirit carried him into this revelation—God breaking into the hardest setting with the clearest reminder of who truly rules.
Revelation opens by making the source unmistakable: it is “the revelation from Jesus Christ, which God gave him to show his servants what must soon take place.” John is not sharing rumours or private opinions; he is recording what Christ revealed.
John says Jesus “made it known by sending his angel to his servant John, who testifies to everything he saw—that is, the word of God and the testimony of Jesus Christ” (Revelation 1:1–2). In other words, this vision is meant to strengthen the church, not to entertain our curiosity.
But there is a very human question in the story: how did John know the one speaking was Jesus?
The description John gives is not the Jesus he last saw on the roads of Galilee, nor even the same as the appearances after the resurrection. Christ is now revealed in heavenly glory—still Jesus, but unveiled, majestic, and terrifyingly holy.
Yet John must have recognised his voice. We all know that experience: you might not see the person clearly, but you know the voice the moment you hear it. John turns “to see the voice” (Revelation 1:12), and what he sees overwhelms him.
John describes seven golden lampstands, and “among the lampstands was someone like a son of man,” robed in splendour, with a golden sash across his chest. His hair is “white like wool, as white as snow,” his eyes “like blazing fire,” and his voice “like the sound of rushing waters.” From his mouth comes a sharp, double-edged sword, and his face shines like the sun in full strength (Revelation 1:12–16).
It is a different vision of Jesus than many of us instinctively picture—less “familiar friend,” more “King in glory.” And yet, it is still the same Lord John loved and followed.
I confess I take a strange comfort from one detail: in his risen glory, Jesus’ hair is white like wool. For anyone anxious about grey hair, perhaps heaven will settle the debate—we may all match the King.
John calls him “like a son of man”—a title that deliberately echoes Daniel’s vision: one like a son of man coming with the clouds of heaven, receiving authority, glory, and sovereign power, with a kingdom that will never be destroyed (Daniel 7:13–14). There can be no doubt: this is Jesus speaking.
Now we come to the statement itself. Jesus says, “I am the First and the Last.” Let’s take those two halves in turn.
1) “I am the First.” For Jesus to be the First means nothing and no one existed before him. He is not merely a great teacher who appeared in history; he is Creator God. John’s Gospel begins this way: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God… Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made” (John 1:1–3).
Before there was matter, before there was time, before there was a sunrise or a calendar—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit already were. Creation did not bring Jesus into existence; Jesus brought creation into existence.
And because he is the First, everything begins with him. Every life, every breath, every moment of history is dependent on his sustaining word. He does not belong to time the way we do; time belongs to him.
And if Jesus is the First and the Last, then he is also Lord of everything in between. We live in the “middle”—and it can feel messy, confusing, and painful—but the middle is not outside his control.
In difficult circumstances, it’s easy to wonder whether Jesus is absent. Many of us have prayed, in one form or another, “Where are you?” Yet Revelation is given precisely to Christians under pressure. It reminds us that Jesus is working out his plan in history—and also in our lives—whether our days feel “good” or “bad.”
How do we know he cares? Because he went to the cross. Love is not a vague sentiment in Christianity; it is demonstrated at Calvary. Even when we cannot trace his hand in the middle of our story, we can still trust his heart.
Revelation can be a challenging book, but its purpose is not to confuse us; it is to steady us. It tells us that God is not surprised by the turbulence of the last days. Jesus warned of “wars and rumours of wars,” and we see enough in our world to know we need an anchored hope.
John’s response to the vision is to fall at Jesus’ feet. And Jesus’ response is tenderness: “He placed his right hand on me and said, ‘Do not be afraid.’” The One whose face shines like the sun is also the One who reaches out his hand to steady a trembling disciple.
Those words are not only for John. When we face suffering, uncertainty, or fear, Christ still says, “Do not be afraid. I am with you.” The command is not “be brave by yourself,” but “remember who is holding you.”
Because Jesus is the First, he has already begun the story. Because Jesus is the Last, the outcome is already decided. We are, in a real sense, fighting battles he has already won. Like the difference between D-Day and VE Day: the decisive victory has been secured, even though there are still skirmishes before the final celebration.
Scripture puts it plainly: “The one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world” (1 John 4:4). We may not always feel like we are on the winning side, but in Christ we are—and that should reshape how we endure, pray, and hope.
At the same time, this truth gives us urgency. Many people we love—friends, neighbours, even family—are not yet resting their trust in Jesus. The world offers many substitutes, but nothing that can compare with Christ, especially when we stand at the end of our days.
2) “I am the Last.” For Jesus to be the Last means he is in charge of all history. There will be no one before him, and there will be no one after him. He will outlast every empire, every ideology, every ruler, and every season of this world.
Jesus started it all, and he will finish it all. At a time appointed by the Father, this present world will come to its end, and God will bring in the new heaven and the new earth for all who belong to Christ. That is not escapism; it is the Christian hope.
And Jesus gives John one of the most decisive reasons we can trust him with the end: “I am the Living One; I was dead, and now look, I am alive for ever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades” (Revelation 1:18).
John knew Jesus had been dead—he witnessed the crucifixion. John knew Jesus was alive—he saw the resurrected Lord and watched him ascend. Now Jesus confirms: the resurrection is not temporary. He is alive for ever, and therefore all authority belongs to him.
In the ancient world, keys represented control—authority over a house, a city, a prison. Here the image is breathtaking: Christ has rightful sovereignty over the grave itself. Death and Hades are not ultimate powers; they are under the authority of Jesus.
Death was not part of God’s good creation in the beginning. Through human disobedience, sin entered the world and death came with it. But Jesus has ransomed his people through Calvary so that sin and death do not have the final word over us.
I am grateful that Jesus holds the keys. Human leaders can make breathtakingly poor decisions with power and honour. For example, history records that Saddam Hussein was once given a ceremonial “key to the city” of Detroit after making a generous donation to a local cause—an honour that looks deeply misguided in hindsight. How relieving it is that our final Judge is not like that: Jesus judges with perfect justice, integrity, and love.
A key locks and a key unlocks. Jesus is saying: I have the power to open, and I have the power to shut. No one else holds a duplicate key. Authority over life, death, judgment, and eternity belongs to Christ alone.
That changes how we face death. If Jesus is our Lord, death is not something to be feared as the end; it is a doorway into the kingdom of God. Whether Christ returns first or whether we pass through death, the believer’s future is not uncertainty but welcome—“Well done, good and faithful servant.”
But the same image is also sobering. The One who opens can also keep the gate shut. Scripture warns that there will be those to whom Jesus says, in effect, “I do not know you.” That is why we pray for our families and friends, why we speak of Christ with love, and why we do not treat the gospel as a private hobby rather than public hope.
The good news is that entry into the kingdom is not purchased by human effort. Access is free because Jesus has already paid the price in full. “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).
And as the key-holder, Jesus also has authority over Satan and the kingdom of darkness. The evil one still fires arrows, trying to discourage faith and derail obedience, but his defeat is certain. A day is coming when every force of evil will bow the knee before Jesus Christ and confess that he is King of kings and Lord of lords.
So Revelation 1 is not only a prophecy; it is a pastoral letter. To an exiled apostle on a harsh island, Jesus says: do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last. I was dead, and now I am alive for ever and ever. I hold the keys.
If you belong to him, then your life is held inside his story—from the beginning to the end, and every moment in the middle. When you cannot see what he is doing, you can still trust who he is. And if you do not yet belong to him, hear the invitation: come to the One who loved you enough to die and powerful enough to rise. The kingdom is open—because Jesus holds the key.