In what is now being called his final gift to the world, evangelist and gospel singer Jimmy Swaggart, 90, left behind a video message so tender, so personal, that it’s brought tears to millions across the globe.
Released just hours after news of his passing, the video—recorded quietly in the sanctuary of Family Worship Center in Baton Rouge—features the beloved preacher seated at his familiar grand piano, bathed in soft golden light, his hands gently resting on the keys. There is no congregation, no choir, no applause — only silence, reverence, and one man speaking from the edge of eternity.
“If you’re watching this,” he begins, “then I’m already home.”
Those seven words were followed by a deep pause, as Swaggart looked into the lens not as a televangelist, but as a father, grandfather, and servant of God saying goodbye.
“I’ve preached thousands of sermons, but none more important than this: Jesus loves you. He always has. And He always will.”
The video, just under five minutes long, contains no production — only a stripped-down gospel melody played softly as Swaggart speaks about regret, redemption, and grace.
He talks about the valleys: the scandals, the shame, the long walk back to the altar. But also the victories: the millions reached, the songs written, the souls saved.
“I have failed. I have fallen. But He picked me up. Every time.”
At one point, visibly emotional, Swaggart places his hand over his heart and whispers:
“Tell Frances… I’ll be waiting at the river.”
Frances Swaggart, his wife of over 70 years, has not yet spoken publicly, but close family friends say the video was recorded with her blessing, as a way of easing the grief that would inevitably follow.
In the final minute of the message, Jimmy turns back to the piano. With trembling fingers, he plays the first verse of “Jesus, Just the Mention of Your Name,” one of his most beloved songs — and the one he said he wanted played at his funeral.
He sings just one line:
“Kings and kingdoms will all pass away… but there’s something about that name.”
Then he closes the lid of the piano, looks up, and smiles — not at the camera, but, as some say, perhaps toward heaven itself.
Now, as this message ripples across churches, homes, and hearts around the world, it has become more than just a farewell. It is a testimony, a reminder, and a final altar call from a man who never stopped believing in second chances.
Jimmy Swaggart may be gone from this earth —
but his final words echo where no microphone could reach:
deep into the soul of anyone still searching for grace.