A disputed line on a map that two nations had argued about for decades. A small skirmish. The kind that gets twelve seconds on the evening news.
But this time it didn't stop.
This time the neighboring country sent soldiers. And then the country beside that one did the same. And every alliance that had been quietly fraying for years suddenly snapped at once.
Within seventy-two hours, five wars were active on three continents.
The markets collapsed. Airports shut down. Supply lines that fed entire cities dried up overnight.
People killed each other in grocery store lines.
There was something different about this war. Not just the speed of it. The spirit of it.
There was a hunger in people. An old, ugly hunger that no amount of prosperity had ever actually killed. It had only been sleeping.
And there was given unto him a great sword.
That was the thing the rider carried. The second rider. The one on the red horse. Power to take peace from the earth — and that power had been given.
Given.
Not taken. Not earned. Given.
Which meant someone had authorized it. Which meant a seal had been opened that could not be closed again.
The diplomats kept meeting. The peace talks kept happening.
But the sword was already out.
And the world that had greeted the white rider with open arms was now learning what comes after the smile fades.
Scripture — Revelation 6:4
"And there went out another horse that was red: and power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another: and there was given unto him a great sword."
Reflection
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Peace is not a permanent state. In the end times, it is removed like a garment.
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War does not announce itself. One day things are fine. The next day they are not.