Revelation 19:1-10

Engaged to the Lamb: Revelation 19:1-10

Introduction

Last week, we witnessed the dramatic fall of Babylon—the great harlot who symbolized the seductive power of the world in rebellion against God. Revelation 17-18 showed us the collapse of everything that sets itself up against Christ: empires built on greed, pride, idolatry, and exploitation. And as Babylon fell, heaven did not weep—it sang. It rejoiced in God’s justice.

And now, in Revelation 19, the song continues. But the focus shifts. Babylon, the unfaithful harlot, is gone—and in her place, we meet a very different woman: the Bride.

This is one of the most powerful contrasts in all of Scripture. The harlot and the bride. Two women. Two cities. Two ways of life. One calls us into compromise and idolatry; the other into covenant and intimacy. One is clothed in luxury and corruption; the other in fine linen, bright and pure. One is judged and destroyed; the other is loved and welcomed.

The message is clear: you can’t belong to both.

And now the question becomes deeply personal: Will we give our hearts to Babylon, or will we be faithful to the Lamb?

So, this morning let’s look at Revelation 19:1–10. 

The Sound of Hallelujah

I would like to begin by noticing something that jumps out immediately in Revelation 19—something loud, something joyful, something that fills the whole atmosphere of heaven. It’s the sound of a multitude shouting, “Hallelujah!” Not once. Not twice. But four times in just ten verses.

Now that might seem common to us because we sing “Hallelujah” so often in church. It shows up in songs and hymns. But here’s something surprising: the word “Hallelujah” only appears once in the entire New Testament—and it’s right here, in Revelation 19. Four times, and nowhere else in the New Testament.

That should make us pause and ask, Why here? Why does this word appear now, of all places?

“Hallelujah” is a Hebrew word composed of two words: “hallel,” meaning “praise,” and “Yah,” referring to “Yahweh” (the God of the Bible). In essence, it's a call to give praise and glory to the God of Israel. So when we say “Hallelujah,” we’re not offering a vague or abstract shout of joy; we’re issuing a call: “You, praise Yahweh!” We’re naming the God of Israel, the covenant-keeping, rescuing God who revealed Himself to Moses in the burning bush and said, “I AM WHO I AM.”

And the place in the Old Testament where “Hallelujah” is used the most is the Psalms. The whole prayer book ends in a flourish of “Hallelujahs.” Psalms 146-150 each begin with “Hallelujah”, “Praise Yahweh.” Psalm 150, the last Psalm, ends “Hallelujah” = “Praise Yahweh.” 

The place where “Hallelujah” is used the most is Psalm 113-118, the so-called “The Hallel Psalms,” the “You Praise” Psalms. This is significant because the Hallel Psalms were sung at Passover: Psalms 113-114 before the meal, Psalms 115-118 after the meal. Mark tells us in his gospel that after Jesus and his disciples celebrated the Passover meal together, and after he had instituted the new meal—which we call “The Lord’s Supper”—that “after singing a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives” (Mark 14:26). The hymn Jesus sang with the disciples would have been Psalm 115, 116, 117 or 118, or all in a praise package.

Now, here is the important point: the theme that unites and runs through the “Hallelujah Psalms” is God delivering Israel from captivity in Egypt. Psalms 113-118 were sung at Passover, when families would gather around the table to remember how God brought them out of bondage and into freedom. And what ties all these psalms together is this joyful, grateful reflection on who God is—a God who lifts up the poor, who hears the cry of the afflicted, who parts the sea and leads His people through. It’s all about rescue. Redemption. Mercy. These songs reminded Israel, again and again, that they were once slaves—but now they are free, because the Lord acted on their behalf. 

So when we hear “Hallelujah” in Scripture, it’s not just a general word of praise. It’s a word tied to a deep memory of salvation. It’s the kind of praise that comes from people who know what it is to be delivered.

See why the four-fold “Hallelujah” comes where it does in Revelation 19? 

Because in the previous two chapters—Revelation 17 and 18—we witnessed the fall of Babylon. Not literal Babylon, but what it represents: the system of idolatry, injustice, immorality, and arrogance that has opposed God throughout human history. Babylon was the great harlot, the city that deceived the nations. And now she has fallen.

And just as Israel sang songs of deliverance after their liberation from Egypt, now the people of God—rescued, vindicated, and filled with joy—sing a new song after the fall of Babylon.

“Hallelujah! Salvation and glory and power belong to our God!” (v. 1)

“Hallelujah! Her smoke goes up forever!” (v. 3)

“Hallelujah! For the Lord God Almighty reigns!” (v. 6)

This is the language of victory. It’s the language of freedom. It’s the cry of those who have been delivered.

So, again… In the Old Testament, the word “Hallelujah” was often tied to the Exodus story—particularly in the Psalms sung during Passover. Now it is tied to an even greater Exodus—the final deliverance of God’s people. And the song bursts out from heaven itself.

The Marriage Supper of the Lamb

Now… If the “Hallelujahs” in Revelation 19 are the sound of victory, then the next image we see is the celebration of that victory. And not just any celebration—it’s a wedding feast. The most anticipated, joy-filled, relationally intimate celebration you can imagine. And at the center of it is Jesus, the Lamb.

Look at verse 7: “Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his Bride has made herself ready.”

And verse 9 says: “Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.”

This is one of the most beautiful images in all of Scripture. The Lamb—Jesus—is getting married. And the bride is His people. The church. Us.

Let’s pause there. How often do we think about our relationship with Jesus in these terms? We talk about being followers, disciples, children of God, citizens of the kingdom—and those are all true and glorious. But here we’re invited to go even deeper. We’re told that we are His bride. That’s not just an image of obedience or service—it’s an image of love and covenant.

And this wedding has been anticipated for a long time. The Old Testament prophets looked forward to a day when God’s people would be united with Him in a joyful, everlasting marriage. Isaiah 25 speaks of a great feast on God’s holy mountain—a rich banquet for all peoples, where death is swallowed up and tears are wiped away. That’s wedding language. That’s joy.

Jesus picks up on this theme throughout His teaching. In Matthew 22, He tells the parable of a king who prepares a wedding feast for his son. That king, of course, is God the Father. And the son is Jesus. And what does Jesus say the kingdom of heaven is like? A wedding feast! A party! A celebration thrown by the Father in honor of the Son.

And what a feast it will be! This isn’t a potluck or a picnic. This is the culmination of redemption. The fulfillment of every longing. The joy of union with Christ. It is the new Passover—the new covenant—celebrated not in shadow but in full light.

Here in Revelation 19, we see that history ends not with a funeral, not with a battle scene, not even with a courtroom—but with a wedding.

Can you feel the wonder of that? This is the end for which we were made—to be united with the One who loved us and gave Himself for us. The feast is coming. The invitations have gone out. And the call of heaven is echoing through the ages: “Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.” (Rev. 19:9).

Called to Be the Bride

Then we come to something deeply personal and beautiful: we are the Bride.

We, the church—ordinary, imperfect, struggling people, saved by grace—are called the Bride of Christ.

This isn’t a passing metaphor. It’s a consistent and deliberate image that runs from Genesis to Revelation. And here in Rev. 19, it comes to its climactic fulfillment. The story of God and His people has always been a love story. Not a shallow, sentimental one—but a covenantal, sacrificial, enduring love between the Creator and His beloved.

Throughout Revelation, Jesus has been preparing us for this moment. Remember back in chapter 2, when He addressed the church in Ephesus? His one complaint was this: “You have abandoned the love you had at first.” They had the right theology. They were doing good works. But they had lost their heart. Their affections for Jesus had cooled.

And then, think of chapter 3, Jesus speaking to the church in Laodicea: “Behold, I stand at the door and knock…” It’s the voice of a lover calling for his beloved. It echoes the poetry of Song of Solomon: “A voice! My beloved is knocking: ‘Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my perfect one!’” (Song 5:2)

From beginning to end, Revelation has been leading us to this image. Jesus wants His church not only obedient, not only faithful, not only courageous—but in love.

Why? Because He is in love with us.

He’s not interested in a cold, mechanical religion. Jesus isn’t looking for mere rule-keeping, or dutiful attendance, or external performance. He’s after something much deeper—He wants our hearts. He desires a living relationship with us. He longs for our affection, our joy, our worship that overflows not from obligation but from love. He wants to be our first love—not one love among many, but the love that defines and reshapes all others. That’s what He told the church in Ephesus: “You’ve lost your first love.” For Jesus, love isn’t optional—it’s central.

When we reduce Christianity to rules, checklists, and outward conformity, we miss the very heart of the gospel. A legalistic approach may keep us busy doing the “right” things, but it leaves our souls dry and distant from the God who calls us to Himself. Jesus didn’t die to make us better rule-followers—He gave Himself to bring us into communion with God, to awaken our hearts with love, joy, and delight in Him. When we treat the gospel as a transaction instead of a relationship, we may appear faithful on the outside, but inside we grow cold, weary, and joyless. Jesus is not a taskmaster looking for performance; He’s a Bridegroom pursuing His beloved. He wants a church that sings, not just a church that behaves. And when love is at the center, obedience becomes a response of the heart, not a burden. So let us lay aside the weight of self-righteousness and remember: what Christ desires is not just that we serve Him—but that we love Him.

And this desire of God is not a New Testament idea that suddenly appears with Jesus. It’s been the heartbeat of God from the very beginning. The entire Old Testament speaks of the relationship between God and His people in marital terms. In Isaiah 54, God says to Israel, “Your Maker is your Husband.” In Jeremiah 2, God remembers with longing the early days of Israel’s devotion, “the love of your betrothal,” when she followed Him through the wilderness. And in Ezekiel 16, we see one of the most tender, and tragic, portraits in all of Scripture—God rescuing Israel, clothing her with splendor, crowning her with beauty, only to see her chase after false lovers and give her heart to idols. It’s not just disobedience—it’s betrayal.

And yet… God doesn’t walk away. He doesn’t grow bitter or withdraw His promise. He keeps pursuing. He keeps forgiving. He keeps promising that one day, the marriage will be healed, the covenant will be renewed, the love will be restored. That one day, the Bride will come home, and the joy will be full.

And here in Revelation 19, that day arrives.

Friends, the Christian life isn’t just about following commands. It’s about responding to love. It’s about intimacy with the One who calls us “Mine.” Yes, we are called witnesses. Yes, we are priests. Yes, we are citizens of the kingdom. But here, above all, we are called the Bride of the Lamb.

This is our truest identity. And this is what Jesus wants most from His church—not just that we work for Him, but that we love Him. That we prepare ourselves for His return. That we open the door when He knocks.

Because the One knocking is our Bridegroom, Jesus Christ.

Our Bridegroom

And this is another important thing in this passage. Because it’s easy to speak of Jesus as Savior, Lord, King, and Redeemer. But here, in Revelation 19, He is revealed as the Bridegroom. And that title changes the tone of everything. It brings us into the realm of intimacy, affection, and joy.

Remember in John 3:29? John the Baptist—who had quite a following of his own—makes a striking statement: “The one who has the bride is the bridegroom. The friend of the bridegroom, who stands and hears him, rejoices greatly at the bridegroom’s voice. Therefore this joy of mine is now complete.”

John calls himself the friend—the best man. He’s not the main event. Jesus is. John knows that Jesus has come to claim His bride, and John is thrilled just to be there, to hear the Bridegroom’s voice, to know that the wedding is near. That’s how he views his ministry.

Then just one chapter later, in John 4, we meet the woman at the well. She’s been married five times and is now with a man who isn’t her husband. But pay attention: in Scripture, wells were often the place where men met their future wives—Isaac’s servant finds Rebekah at a well, Jacob meets Rachel at a well, Moses meets Zipporah at a well. These aren’t just casual encounters; they’re courtship stories. So when Jesus meets this woman at a well, we’re meant to hear echoes of something deeper. Here is the true Bridegroom, meeting a woman with a broken relational history, and offering her living water—Himself.

In Ephesians 5, the Apostle Paul draws the connection explicitly: “Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave Himself up for her… that He might present the church to Himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle…”

Jesus is the groom who lays down His life for His bride. His love isn’t abstract or distant. It’s personal, sacrificial, purifying.

And in 2 Corinthians 11:2, Paul writes: “I betrothed you to one husband, to present you as a pure virgin to Christ.”

All of this builds toward the moment we see in Revelation 19. The Lamb—who was slain—is now revealed as the Bridegroom. The One who gave His life is now throwing a feast. The One who pursued us through history, through sin, through our wandering hearts, has not given up on His bride.

And that changes everything.

Because now we see the depth of His love. We see that Jesus is not just committed to saving us—He desires us. He wants us to be with Him forever. This is a covenant relationship, not a contract. He is not waiting for us at a distance—He is preparing a place for us in His Father’s house. This is our Bridegroom.

A First-Century Wedding

To fully appreciate what Revelation 19 is telling us—that we are the bride and Jesus is the Bridegroom—we need to understand how weddings worked in the time of Jesus. Because when the early Christians heard about the “marriage supper of the Lamb,” they would have instantly pictured a first-century Jewish wedding.

And those weddings were quite different from our modern ones. They weren’t just a one-day ceremony and a reception in a banquet hall. A wedding in the time of Jesus was a rich event filled with beauty, symbolism, and deep relational meaning. There were three main stages: betrothal, preparation, and the wedding feast.

First, the process began with the betrothal. Betrothal was a legally binding agreement, much like a modern engagement, but considered a part of the marriage.

The groom would leave his father’s house and travel—usually with his best man—to the home of the prospective bride. There, he would meet with the bride’s father to finalize the marriage arrangements, including paying the bride price. This was a formal transaction—more than a proposal. It was a covenant. A legal agreement was made, and from that point on, the couple was considered husband and wife, though they wouldn’t live together yet. It was binding. In fact, if the groom were to die during this time, the woman would be considered a widow.

And here’s something beautiful: the covenant was often sealed with a shared cup of wine. The groom would raise the cup and pronounce a betrothal blessing, saying something like, “This cup is a new covenant.” Sound familiar?

That’s exactly what Jesus said in the upper room. As He raised the cup at the Last Supper, He wasn’t just instituting a sacrament. He was declaring His betrothal to His people. He was pledging Himself to His bride—the church. He was saying, “You are Mine. I have paid the price.”

Second, after the betrothal, the groom would return to his father’s house to prepare a place for his bride.

This usually took about a year. During that time, the bride remained in her family’s home, waiting, preparing herself for the wedding day. She would stay faithful, stay ready, and live in anticipation. And the groom? He would build a room onto his father’s house—a place where he and his bride would one day dwell together.

Again, think of Jesus’ words in John 14: “In my Father’s house are many rooms… I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and take you to myself, that where I am, there you may be also.”

He wasn’t speaking in abstract spiritual metaphors. He was speaking like a bridegroom. That’s wedding language.

Finally, when the time was right—usually about a year later—the groom would return for his bride.

But here’s the thing: the exact day and hour of his arrival were unknown. The bride knew he was coming, but not when. And the groom often came at night, preceded by a shout: “Behold, the bridegroom comes!” Then the bride, veiled and ready, would go out to meet him, along with her bridesmaids holding lamps—just like in Jesus’ parable in Matthew 25.

In Matthew 25, Jesus tells the story of ten virgins—bridesmaids—waiting for the bridegroom. Five were wise and brought extra oil for their lamps. Five were foolish and unprepared. When the bridegroom finally arrived, only those who were ready went in with him to the wedding feast, and the door was shut.

Then, according to the first-century Jewish wedding tradition, came the wedding feast—a joyful, extravagant celebration that could last seven days or more. The bride and groom would enter their new home together, and the entire community would rejoice.

Can you see how this imagery is packed into the New Testament?

We have been betrothed to Christ—He has paid the bride price and sealed the covenant with His blood.

He has gone to prepare a place for us in His Father’s house.

And one day—at a time we don’t expect—He will return to take us to Himself.

And then the feast will begin—the marriage supper of the Lamb!

The Bride Makes Herself Ready

Then, there’s a beautiful and powerful moment in Revelation 19:7–8. The multitude in heaven is singing:

“Let us rejoice and exult and give Him the glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and His bride has made herself ready. It was granted her to clothe herself with fine linen, bright and pure—for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints.”

Now notice the tension here: the bride “has made herself ready”—that sounds like effort. But then it says, “It was granted her to clothe herself.” Her readiness was a gift.

So, which is it? Did she prepare herself, or was she made ready?

The answer is both. Just like in Philippians 2, where Paul says, “Work out your salvation… for it is God who works in you.” We act, but we act through the strength He gives. It’s grace-empowered obedience.

This is good news for weary disciples. Maybe you feel like you’re stumbling your way through faith—struggling with sin or doubt. But the Bride isn’t called to perfection in her own strength. She’s called to be clothed in what He provides.

The “fine linen” is the righteous deeds of the saints. Not works to earn love, but the fruit of love already received—acts of faithfulness, obedience, devotion. It’s not about fearful striving, but about faithful preparation.

So how do we get ready?

We live each day with loyalty to Jesus. We resist Babylon’s temptations—comfort, compromise, distraction. We say “yes” to Him over and over. We pursue holiness not out of fear, but out of love.

And even our preparation is grace. He gives the desire. He gives the strength. He gives the garments.

So yes, the Bride makes herself ready—but only because the Bridegroom made her His. And He won’t stop working in her until she shines.

So we live, not with fear—but with joyful anticipation. Clothed in grace. Prepared in love. Waiting for the shout in the night: “Behold! Here comes the Bridegroom!”

Conclusion

So what does this vision of the marriage of the Lamb mean for us—right now, as we live and love and follow Jesus? Let me offer five simple implications.

First, if we are engaged to the Lamb, then we are deeply loved.

And not just with any kind of love. Not distant or formal or transactional. But with covenantal, affectionate, intimate love. Jesus doesn’t just tolerate you. He doesn’t just accept you into His kingdom as a citizen or recruit you for His mission as a worker. He loves you as a bridegroom loves His bride. Your worth is not found in what you do for Him, but in how He sees you.

Let that truth break through the noise of shame or insecurity. Jesus loves his church with a pursuing, cleansing, everlasting love.

Second, we are secure.

Engagement in the first century wasn’t a “maybe.” It was a covenant. A binding promise. And Christ has sealed that promise with His own blood. “This is the new covenant in my blood,” He said. That means our relationship with Him is not fragile. It’s not dependent on our feelings or our performance. It’s anchored in the unchanging commitment of the Bridegroom.

He will never walk away. He will never stop preparing a place. And if you’ve been betrothed to Him—He will come for you.

Third, discipleship is about loyalty.

If we are engaged to Jesus, we cannot give our hearts to another. Revelation gives us two clear images: the harlot Babylon and the bride of Christ. You can’t sleep with one and be married to the other. That’s strong language, but it’s the language of Scripture. Jesus is jealous for His Bride—not in a sinful and possessive way, but in a holy, covenantal, protecting love.

So the Christian life isn’t just about learning things or serving well—it’s about saying “no” to other loves. It’s resisting the seduction of Babylon’s pleasures and remaining faithful to the Lamb.

Fourth, sin is worse than we thought.

It’s not just failure. It’s not just broken rules. It’s relational betrayal. The prophets didn’t call idolatry “poor choices”—they called it adultery. When we sin, we turn our backs on the One who has loved us with everything. We run into the arms of another while our true Bridegroom is preparing a place for us. That kind of language should stir something in us—not just guilt, but sorrow. And even more, repentance. Because when we see sin for what it really is, we start to see grace for what it really is, too.

Fifth, we are called to readiness.

Not panic. But preparation. Like a bride preparing for the wedding day, every act of love, every faithful decision, every time we say “yes” to Jesus over self—that’s a stitch in the wedding garment. That’s the fine linen of “the righteous deeds of the saints.” We’re not earning the wedding. We’re adorning ourselves with the fruit of the relationship we already have. Every day, in small, unseen ways, we are getting ready.

So, what does all of this mean?

It means your life is part of a love story—one that began before the foundation of the world and will end in a feast of joy. Jesus is not just your Savior. He’s your Bridegroom. And one day, maybe soon, we will hear the cry:

“Behold, the Bridegroom is coming! Come out to meet Him!”

So prepare your heart now. Guard your love today. Live with joy.

Because this isn’t the end of the story.

It’s the beginning of the wedding feast.

Transition to the Lord’s Supper

As we come to the Lord’s Table this morning, let’s not miss the connection between what we’ve just heard and what we are about to do.

This table is more than a memorial. It’s more than a symbol. It is a foretaste—a preview—of the wedding feast to come. On the night He was betrayed, our Bridegroom took a cup and said, “This cup is the new covenant in My blood.” That was a betrothal vow. A covenant sealed with love.

Every time we come to this table, we’re reminded: we belong to Him. We’ve been purchased with a price. We’ve been set apart. We are engaged to the Lamb.

And we come not because we are perfectly ready, but because He is making us ready. He is clothing us in righteousness. He is preparing a place for us. And He is coming again.

So come to the table as the beloved bride. Come with joy. Come in awe. Come in faith. And hear again the invitation that echoes from heaven: “Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.”

(Silent prayer - call the elders)

Prayer

Gracious and faithful God,

We thank You for Your Word this morning—for the vision of glory, for the song of Hallelujah, and for the promise of the marriage supper of the Lamb. Thank You for showing us again who we are: not just servants or followers, but Your beloved Bride.

Lord Jesus, we praise You for Your love—so faithful, so undeserved. You left the throne of heaven to pursue us. You laid down Your life to redeem us. You sealed the covenant with Your own blood. And even now, You are preparing a place for us. What love is this?

Forgive us, Lord, for the times we’ve been unfaithful. For when we’ve flirted with Babylon. For when we’ve let our hearts grow cold. For when we’ve been distracted, complacent, or distant from You. Cleanse us again. Renew our love. Awaken in us the joy of our betrothal to You.

And now, as we come to Your table, prepare our hearts to receive this meal—not as routine, but as a holy reminder. As a foretaste of the feast to come. Feed us with Your grace. Clothe us with Your righteousness. Strengthen us in our loyalty. Help us to long for the day when faith will be sight, and the wedding celebration will never end.

Until then, keep us faithful. Keep us in love. Keep us ready.

In Jesus’s name, we pray. Amen.