When Expectation Leads to Disappointment

I really, really wanted to go to Patmos. I mean, really wanted to go there. If you know anything about the island, you’ll understand why.

This was the place where John the Apostle received the vision that became the Book of Revelation.

This was where one of Jesus' closest friends encountered the risen Christ in an experience that shaped Christianity forever.

So when Lora and I planned our 30th anniversary trip to the Adriatic Sea, Patmos was at the top of my list. I built up the expectation in my mind that God would give me some incredible revelation there, some profound spiritual experience that would change my perspective.

The monastery we visited was amazing. The Monastery of St. John the Theologian, built in the 1100s, sits above the Cave of Revelation. Walking through those ancient halls was like stepping back through a thousand years of history. They had three skulls on display—two apostles, Thomas and Philip, and the third was St. Antipas the Martyr. I'll admit, it was strange seeing that kind of thing displayed as sacred artifacts, but most of them were donations from different kings and rulers over the centuries, and carried historical significance.

I was completely fixated on my expectation of an unbelievable "aha" moment in the cave. And don't get me wrong, it was amazing to be there, knowing that this little community had carved out this cave where a 90-year-old apostle had encountered God. But I'd built up this expectation that something earth-shattering would happen, and... it didn't.

It was neat to see. It was historically incredible. But there was no blinding light, no audible voice, no overwhelming sense of God's presence that knocked me to my knees. Just me, standing in a cave, feeling slightly disappointed that my expectations hadn't been met.

We visited other places, came back home, and about three weeks later, I found myself serving on a team at church. One of the guys was sharing about something that had happened during his quiet time in his study. He'd had what he called a revelation, and he asked a question: "Do we still have the same passion for our relationship with God as we did when we first believed?"

That's when it hit me. That was my gift from the Patmos experience.

There was John, over 90 years old, still pursuing his relationship with God with such intensity that he was willing to walk up the side of a mountain to have that quiet time with the Lord. Because of his faithfulness to talk with God in exile, isolation, even at such an old age, we all received the blessing of the last book of the Bible.

I had to ask myself: Am I living my life with that same purpose? Am I pursuing God with the passion of a 90-year-old apostle who refused to let circumstances, age, or exile impact his faith? That was my AHA moment. Not in the cave, not in the moment I expected it, but weeks later in a church meeting when I least expected it.

The more I learned about John's story, the more impressed I was with his courage. Do you know why John was exiled to Patmos in the first place?

The emperor Domitian in Constantinople had set himself up to be worshipped as a god. When he visited Ephesus, he decreed that everyone should wear white in his presence as a celebration of his divinity. It was a command performance, and the entire city was expected to honor this human emperor as if he were deity.

John, this 90-year-old man, showed up dressed in all black. What a rebel!

Can you imagine? Thousands of people in brilliant white robes, bowing before an emperor who demanded worship, and there's this elderly apostle standing in the crowd, defying the crowd and the emperor. He wasn't just making a fashion statement—he was making a declaration. He was saying, "I will not bow to any god but the true God."

That act of rebellion, that refusal to compromise his convictions, led to his exile on Patmos. When Domitian died, his successor's wife was reportedly a believer and removed John's exile, allowing him to return to Ephesus where he eventually died; he was the only apostle who didn't suffer a martyr's death.

John’s tomb was placed next to where Mary, the mother of Jesus, is believed to have lived. For centuries, pilgrims came from all over the known world to visit this sacred site. But here's what's fascinating: there's a legend that after they buried John, when people came back to the tomb the next day, he was gone. The locals believe he was resurrected, taken up like Elijah. Unlike every other apostle and saint, whose relics are claimed by various churches and cities, John's body has never been claimed by anyone, anywhere.

The truth is, God rarely works according to our timeline or our expectations. John didn't receive the Book of Revelation because he visited a special place; he received it because he lived a special life. His revelation came not from his location but from his dedication.

My Patmos experience taught me something important about expectations and how they can rob us of the very blessings we're seeking. I was so focused on manufacturing a spiritual experience in the "right" location at the "right" time that I almost missed the real gift God had for me.

I wanted a burning bush moment. God gave me a still, small voice moment, weeks later, in an ordinary church meeting, through an ordinary question from an ordinary guy during his ordinary quiet time.