There was one thing Peter could not let go of, even as his life was drawing to a close.
He wrote: “This is now the second letter that I am writing to you. In both of them I am stirring up your sincere mind by way of reminder.”
Not to teach you something new. Just to remind you. Because our greatest problem is not that we don’t know — it’s that we forget.
We all know this world did not come into existence by accident. We all know history is not an endless cycle going nowhere — it has an end. We all know Jesus is coming again, that there will be judgment, a new heaven and a new earth.
But somewhere along the way, we forgot.
The pressure of work bears down. The demands of family pile up. The days keep passing, one after another. The sun rises as it always has, and sets as it always has. Seasons come and go, year after year. And gradually, without even noticing, we start living no differently from those who mock and say there is nothing coming —
As if the Lord is never really coming back. As if judgment is just a distant, abstract idea. As if the only thing that matters is getting through today as comfortably as possible.
But Peter calls us to remember two things.
First: God is the Lord of history.
This world was once judged by a flood. That was not God losing control — that was God exercising his sovereignty. The heavens and earth that exist today are being held together by that same word, kept until the day of judgment and renewal. History is not drifting aimlessly. It is in his hands, moving toward the end he has appointed.
Second: His waiting is grace, not weakness.
“The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.”
He is still waiting. Not because he has forgotten, but because he loves. Every single day is a gift he has given us — given to us, and given for the sake of those around us who do not yet know him.
Knowing all of this — how then should we live?
Peter is direct: “Since all these things are thus to be dissolved, what sort of people ought you to be in lives of holiness and godliness, waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God!”
Not in fear, but in hope. Not in avoidance, but in preparation. Not coasting through life, but diligent, holy, and blameless.
Like a student who knows the final exam is coming and does not let a single week slip by carelessly — because we know that day is coming, today looks different. How we spend our time, how we treat the people around us, how we face trials — all of it is shaped by this hope.
Paul reminds us of the same thing:
“You are all children of light, children of the day.”
We are not waiting in the dark for an unknown fate. We know the destination. We know the God who holds history in his hands. So we do not sleep, we do not grow numb, we do not drift with the current — we stay alert, we keep watch, we put on faith and love as a breastplate, and the hope of salvation as a helmet.
Not long after Peter finished writing this letter, he was martyred.
But when you read his words, do you find fear? Do you find despair?
No. What you find is stillness. Faithful instruction. Love.
Because he knew the end of the story. He knew the Lord who was waiting for him.
We know it too.
The question is — do we still remember?
Today, let this reminder land in your heart again.
Not as a doctrine to be filed away. But as a direction for your life.