Scripture does not merely encourage believers to watch—it issues grave warnings about the consequences of spiritual complacency. Paul, in 1 Thessalonians, draws a sharp line between those who are spiritually alert and those who are not. He does not soften this contrast: to be watchful is to walk in the light; to be complacent is to stumble in darkness. The distinction is not academic or optional—it is covenantal and urgent.
1 Thessalonians 5:1-8
“But of the times and the seasons, brethren, ye have no need that I write unto you. For yourselves know perfectly that the day of the Lord so cometh as a thief in the night. For when they shall say, Peace and safety; then sudden destruction cometh upon them, as travail upon a woman with child; and they shall not escape. But ye, brethren, are not in darkness, that that day should overtake you as a thief. Ye are all the children of light, and the children of the day: we are not of the night, nor of darkness. Therefore let us not sleep, as do others; but let us watch and be sober. For they that sleep sleep in the night; and they that be drunken are drunken in the night. But let us, who are of the day, be sober, putting on the breastplate of faith and love; and for an helmet, the hope of salvation.”
Paul’s warning is uncompromising: the day of the Lord will come suddenly, like a thief, upon those who are spiritually asleep—those intoxicated with the world and its false assurances of “peace and safety.” This is not a warning for the irreligious only. Even those busy with religious activity can be lulled into spiritual sleep, their senses dulled by the world’s intoxication. The result is catastrophic: to be overtaken, unprepared, facing sudden destruction. This is not a secondary issue. To treat watchfulness as optional is to treat the warning as empty, and to risk forfeiting the very readiness that marks the children of light.
But Paul does not leave the believer in uncertainty. He insists that those who are in Christ are not in darkness. The expectation of Christ’s imminent return is not meant to produce anxiety, but to catalyze sobriety and readiness. This is the normal Christian life: to live as those who expect the Lord at any moment, clothed with faith, love, and the hope of salvation. Watchfulness is not a special calling for the few, but the covenantal posture of all who belong to the day.
The question is not whether you are busy, but whether you are awake. The world, the flesh, and Satan relentlessly press upon the believer, seeking to induce spiritual slumber. The intoxication of this age is real and increasing. Yet God, in His mercy, has not left us defenseless. He has given us the prophetic scriptures and the awareness of salvation’s nearness as tools to awaken and sober us.
Romans 13:11
“And that, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep: for now is our salvation nearer than when we believed.”
This sense of imminency is not mere rhetoric; it is God’s means of separating us from the world. When the reality of Christ’s return grips the conscience, it produces repentance, a struggle against ungodliness, and a longing to be found ready. Prophetic scripture is not a curiosity—it is a divine instrument for awakening. Every time I have been turned back to these promises, I have found my heart sobered, my priorities reordered, and my appetite for the world diminished.
Let us be honest: none of us is immune to seasons of sleep. Even the wise virgins in Matthew 25 slept and had to be awakened. I have known such seasons myself. But this is no excuse. Rather, it is a testimony to the Lord’s patience and mercy—that He did not come upon me as a thief and catch me unprepared. His mercy is not license for complacency, but a call to renewed watchfulness.
If we ignore these warnings—if we treat spiritual sleep as harmless or inevitable—we lose far more than a sense of urgency. We forfeit readiness itself. We risk being overtaken, unprepared for the Lord’s return, and exposed as those who walked in darkness while calling ourselves children of light. This is not a theoretical loss; it is a collapse of the very assurance and inheritance that belong to the sons of God.
Therefore, let us not sleep as others do. Let us watch and be sober. Let us put on the breastplate of faith and love, and for a helmet, the hope of salvation. The nearness of our salvation is not a threat, but a gift—a continual summons to live as those who are awake, alert, and ready for our coming King. Anything less is to despise the covenant and treat the warning as a mere suggestion. The New Testament will not allow it, and neither should we.
