Remember where we started eight articles ago? I started with a picture of modern-day prophecy conferences that I’m used to attending — big stages, bright lights, packed ballrooms. We said the greatest prophecy conference wasn’t one of those — it was on the Mount of Olives. Jesus, sitting with His disciples, was telling them the end of the age wouldn’t be a mystery. He didn’t give them new information. He confirmed what they already knew — a regional war would rage, Jerusalem would be at the center and the king would return. That war would spill into the world, with incredible astronomical events. But at its core, the end times will be a regional conflict. At that great prophecy conference, the disciples’ questions weren’t about what would happen but about when.
There was another prophecy conference — one just as important, just as intimate and with just one attendee this time. Most would consider such a poorly attended conference a failure. It wasn’t. You’ve likely read the attendees’ notes. You’ve likely caught the “recording” of this second great prophecy conference. This prophecy conference happened on a barren island called Patmos. That one attendee was the last living disciple — John. It occurred 60 years after the one he attended on the Mount of Olives.
John wasn’t surrounded by eager note-takers and slick PowerPoints. He was on Patmos, exiled, alone and cut off from the world because he preached the gospel. And in that place of isolation, his friend, his rabbi, his Lord showed up again — not as the humble teacher from Galilee, but as the roaring, radiant Son of Man. The same voice that spoke across the olive trees of the Mount of Olives now thundered over jagged cliffs and raging sea.
What John received on Patmos would become the most spectacular, misunderstood and sensationalized prophetic vision the church would ever have — the Book of Revelation. And just like every other true prophetic insight given throughout the ages, the core of the end-of-the-age narrative didn’t change. It was still regional, centered in Jerusalem, with the nations surrounding Israel gathering to war against the throne of God.
The modern world loves to turn Revelation into abstract chaos and sensationalism. It sells better that way with global nukes, alien invasions and Hollywood nightmares. But the Word never changed. The battlefield remains exactly where it’s always been — Israel at the center, her ancient enemies surrounding her.
Armageddon isn’t a vague global collapse. It’s a literal real place. It’s the large plain before the ancient city of Megiddo. It’s the valley below Mount Carmel where the prophets of Baal were slain. It’s the Jezreel Valley. It’s the perfect staging area on a march to Jerusalem.
According to Revelation, the armies gather in the Valley of Jezreel (Rev. 16:16), the ancient crossroads of conquest and blood. They set their sights south — 60 miles down the road — on Jerusalem. The Euphrates dries up to open the eastern front (Rev. 16:12), a pathway for ancient enemies to march toward the city of the Great King. The Beast or Antichrist rallies them. The False Prophet deceives them. And the nations rage one last time against Zion, against Jerusalem.
Zechariah saw this same siege — Jerusalem surrounded, half the city taken and the Mount of Olives splitting under the weight of the King’s arrival. Joel saw this same gathering of nations in the Valley of Decision. The sun and moon had darkened, and the Lord was roaring from Zion. Isaiah saw the same Day of the Lord, the nations trampling Jerusalem like a winepress. Daniel saw the same beastly empires rising and falling until the Son of Man came with dominion that would never end.
What Jesus said on Patmos was developed from the same core teaching he told John, sitting with dusty feet on the Mount of Olives. It traced the old lines again — armies, betrayal, tribulation, rescue and kingdom. Nothing had changed. The Bible isn’t scattered visions. It’s a single war map burned into every page. The end begins and ends in Jerusalem. John’s vision makes it clear — the armies muster at Armageddon, they march toward Jerusalem, the city is besieged, the remnant cries out for deliverance, the sky splits and the King rides with fire in His eyes and a sword in His mouth (Rev. 19:11-16). The Jezreel Valley becomes the assembly field. Jerusalem becomes the battlefield. The Mount of Olives becomes the epicenter of impact, cracking under the returning feet of the risen King.
The battle of Revelation isn’t random. It’s not symbolic noise. It’s the same conflict the Law warned about, the same war the Psalms sang about, the same final siege the Prophets bled to describe. It’s one war, one King, one Jerusalem and one End.
The second greatest prophecy conference didn’t bring a new map. It confirmed the old one. The one etched in the deserts of Sinai, sung over harp strings by David, wept over by Jeremiah, burned into the heart of Ezekiel and sealed by the blood of the Lamb. The armies will gather. The siege will come. The city will tremble. The King will ride into Jerusalem.
Revelation does foretell some wild stuff. Often, the focus shifts onto the events of the seals, trumpets and bowls. But even in many of those, real regional geography is mentioned. The two witnesses — they preach in Jerusalem. The 144,000 are an Israeli remnant. The beast and the 10 kings are neighbors of Israel. Again, like all Scripture, we’re told that the center of the end times is a regional conflict.
