The Reigning Christ Speaks: Smyrna

Last week, the Reigning Christ examined a church that was doctrinally careful but cooling in love. This week, He speaks to a church that is not cooling… but suffering.

And unlike most of the churches in Revelation 2–3, this one receives no rebuke. There’s no correction, nor warning of lampstand removal. There’s only clarity, comfort, and a call to endure.
“And to the angel of the church in Smyrna write: ‘The words of the first and the last, who died and came to life.’” (Rev. 2:8, ESV)

Before Jesus addresses their circumstances, He reminds them who He is. He is The First and the Last. He is The One who died and came to life.

In other words: The One who speaks has already walked through death and come out the other side. Smyrna does not need speculation about the future. It needs clarity about the present Lord.

Smyrna was fiercely loyal to Rome. It was a city proud of its imperial temple and devoted to Caesar. To refuse emperor worship was not a private religious choice; it was a public act of defiance. Allegiance to Christ carried visible cost.

Jesus names their reality: “I know your tribulation and your poverty (but you are rich)…” (Rev. 2:9, ESV)

The word for tribulation is θλῖψις (thlipsis), and carries the sense of pressure, compression, or crushing weight. It was used of grain under a millstone. Of grapes in a winepress. Of something squeezed until what is inside is revealed.

What they’re experiencing is not inconvenience, nor annoyance, nor minor social discomfort. It’s the feeling of being squeezed from all sides. It’s like when the expectations at work tighten, relationships strain, finances shrink, and reputation erodes… all at once.

It’s not a single hardship. It’s the weight of many pressures pressing together. Graciously, and kindle, the first words they hear are not correction. “I know.” Their suffering is not outside His sight. Their poverty is not outside His care. Their affliction is not outside His rule.

Materially, this church was poor. They were likely excluded from trade guilds, and clearly slandered by those hostile to their confession of Jesus as Messiah. Economic marginalization was not theoretical, it was real. And yet, Jesus inserts a parenthetical recalibration saying: “(but you are rich).”

Heaven’s accounting differs from Rome’s. “Rich” is not defined by stability, status, or civic approval. “Rich” is defined by union with the risen Christ.

Friends, Revelation consistently overturns the world’s categories. You can appear strong and be spiritually hollow. You can appear weak and be spiritually wealthy. Though Smyrna looked small, in Christ they were rich beyond measure.

Then comes the sober clarity: “Do not fear what you are about to suffer… Be faithful unto death, and I will give you the crown of life.” (Rev. 2:10, ESV)

At first glance, “Ten days” sounds short, doesn't it? Especially when compared with the long seasons of suffering we see elsewhere in Scripture.

So what might Jesus mean?

It's widely understood that Revelation is not indicating a specific number of days here, it is giving us reassurance. Throughout this book, numbers carry theological weight. Ten often signals completeness, or a defined span, or a measured period. There is also a likely echo of Daniel 1, where Daniel and his friends were tested for ten days in a pagan empire before being vindicated. The parallel would not have been lost on believers living under Roman pressure.

He doesn’t promise that it will be short… he promises that it will be limited. Though the suffering will be real, the testing will be intense, and the enemy will be active, the suffering will be limited. That means it has a sovereign boundary.

The devil may throw them into prison, but he does not control the duration… Christ does. And whether a trial lasts ten days, ten months, or ten years, it is never infinite, or arbitrary, or outside His authority. Even lifelong suffering, in light of eternity, is still temporary. Ten days compared to forever.

And though suffering will come, we still we hear the repeated refrain of Scripture: “Do not fear.” “Be faithful.”

It’s also interesting that the crown promised is στέφανος (stephanos), which indicates it’s a victor’s wreath given to one who finishes the race. That means it’s not a crown of dominance, but of endurance. Their faithfulness under pressure is not wasted. It is seen. It is remembered. It is vindicated.

Jesus does not promise that they will avoid the first death. He promises that they will escape the second. “The one who conquers will not be hurt by the second death.” (Rev. 2:11, ESV)

While the first death may touch the body, the second death will never touch the soul. That is covenant security. That is resurrection hope. That is why the One who died and came to life speaks first about Himself. Because if He has conquered death, then death is no longer ultimate.

What This Means for Us: Most of us likely will not face imprisonment, but we do face pressure. Pressure to soften conviction. Pressure to remain silent. Pressure to compromise clarity. Pressure to choose comfort over courage. For us, the cost is often subtle: reputation, opportunity, belonging. And still, when that pressure comes, something inside us is revealed.

Smyrna asks a different question than Ephesus. Ephesus asked: Is our love warm? Smyrna asks: Is our allegiance steady when it costs us?

Because pressure has a way of clarifying what we treasure most. If Christ is our true wealth, then loss cannot empty us. If Christ is our life, then even death cannot defeat us.

The Reigning Christ does not speak to frighten His church, He speaks to fortify it. He knows the pressure they’re under and governs its limits. He promises life beyond it.

The world may take many things, but it cannot take Christ. And if we cannot lose Christ, we cannot lose what matters most.

A question to consider this week: If obedience began to cost you something tangible (socially, economically, personally) would you still follow Him?

The Reigning Christ speaks, and His words are meant to make us faithful, not fearful.

Last week, the Reigning Christ examined a church that was doctrinally careful but cooling in love. This week, He speaks to a church that is not cooling… but suffering.

And unlike most of the churches in Revelation 2–3, this one receives no rebuke. There’s no correction, nor warning of lampstand removal. There’s only clarity, comfort, and a call to endure.
“And to the angel of the church in Smyrna write: ‘The words of the first and the last, who died and came to life.’” (Rev. 2:8, ESV)

Before Jesus addresses their circumstances, He reminds them who He is. He is The First and the Last. He is The One who died and came to life.

In other words: The One who speaks has already walked through death and come out the other side. Smyrna does not need speculation about the future. It needs clarity about the present Lord.

Smyrna was fiercely loyal to Rome. It was a city proud of its imperial temple and devoted to Caesar. To refuse emperor worship was not a private religious choice; it was a public act of defiance. Allegiance to Christ carried visible cost.

Jesus names their reality: “I know your tribulation and your poverty (but you are rich)…” (Rev. 2:9, ESV)

The word for tribulation is θλῖψις (thlipsis), and carries the sense of pressure, compression, or crushing weight. It was used of grain under a millstone. Of grapes in a winepress. Of something squeezed until what is inside is revealed.

What they’re experiencing is not inconvenience, nor annoyance, nor minor social discomfort. It’s the feeling of being squeezed from all sides. It’s like when the expectations at work tighten, relationships strain, finances shrink, and reputation erodes… all at once.

It’s not a single hardship. It’s the weight of many pressures pressing together. Graciously, and kindle, the first words they hear are not correction. “I know.” Their suffering is not outside His sight. Their poverty is not outside His care. Their affliction is not outside His rule.

Materially, this church was poor. They were likely excluded from trade guilds, and clearly slandered by those hostile to their confession of Jesus as Messiah. Economic marginalization was not theoretical, it was real. And yet, Jesus inserts a parenthetical recalibration saying: “(but you are rich).”

Heaven’s accounting differs from Rome’s. “Rich” is not defined by stability, status, or civic approval. “Rich” is defined by union with the risen Christ.

Friends, Revelation consistently overturns the world’s categories. You can appear strong and be spiritually hollow. You can appear weak and be spiritually wealthy. Though Smyrna looked small, in Christ they were rich beyond measure.

Then comes the sober clarity: “Do not fear what you are about to suffer… Be faithful unto death, and I will give you the crown of life.” (Rev. 2:10, ESV)

At first glance, “Ten days” sounds short, doesn't it? Especially when compared with the long seasons of suffering we see elsewhere in Scripture.

So what might Jesus mean?

It's widely understood that Revelation is not indicating a specific number of days here, it is giving us reassurance. Throughout this book, numbers carry theological weight. Ten often signals completeness, or a defined span, or a measured period. There is also a likely echo of Daniel 1, where Daniel and his friends were tested for ten days in a pagan empire before being vindicated. The parallel would not have been lost on believers living under Roman pressure.

He doesn’t promise that it will be short… he promises that it will be limited. Though the suffering will be real, the testing will be intense, and the enemy will be active, the suffering will be limited. That means it has a sovereign boundary.

The devil may throw them into prison, but he does not control the duration… Christ does. And whether a trial lasts ten days, ten months, or ten years, it is never infinite, or arbitrary, or outside His authority. Even lifelong suffering, in light of eternity, is still temporary. Ten days compared to forever.

And though suffering will come, we still we hear the repeated refrain of Scripture: “Do not fear.” “Be faithful.”

It’s also interesting that the crown promised is στέφανος (stephanos), which indicates it’s a victor’s wreath given to one who finishes the race. That means it’s not a crown of dominance, but of endurance. Their faithfulness under pressure is not wasted. It is seen. It is remembered. It is vindicated.

Jesus does not promise that they will avoid the first death. He promises that they will escape the second. “The one who conquers will not be hurt by the second death.” (Rev. 2:11, ESV)

While the first death may touch the body, the second death will never touch the soul. That is covenant security. That is resurrection hope. That is why the One who died and came to life speaks first about Himself. Because if He has conquered death, then death is no longer ultimate.

What This Means for Us: Most of us likely will not face imprisonment, but we do face pressure. Pressure to soften conviction. Pressure to remain silent. Pressure to compromise clarity. Pressure to choose comfort over courage. For us, the cost is often subtle: reputation, opportunity, belonging. And still, when that pressure comes, something inside us is revealed.

Smyrna asks a different question than Ephesus. Ephesus asked: Is our love warm? Smyrna asks: Is our allegiance steady when it costs us?

Because pressure has a way of clarifying what we treasure most. If Christ is our true wealth, then loss cannot empty us. If Christ is our life, then even death cannot defeat us.

The Reigning Christ does not speak to frighten His church, He speaks to fortify it. He knows the pressure they’re under and governs its limits. He promises life beyond it.

The world may take many things, but it cannot take Christ. And if we cannot lose Christ, we cannot lose what matters most.

A question to consider this week: If obedience began to cost you something tangible (socially, economically, personally) would you still follow Him?

The Reigning Christ speaks, and His words are meant to make us faithful, not fearful.