Doomsday Cult Christianity: Over the past century and a half, much of American Christianity has been shaped by what can only be described as a kind of doomsday cult eschatology. It has trained many to read every troubling event in the world as a sign that the end is immediately at hand, and even to speak of such things with a strange sense of anticipation. Over time, this has shaped not only how Scripture is read, but what the heart looks for, often turning the gaze outward to events, rather than upward to Christ.
It seems that when religion becomes more earthly and centered in man, his experiences, his expectations, his place in unfolding events, its view of last things follows the same pattern. The eye is drawn downward: to earthly cities, earthly temples, earthly fulfillments. Yet the Scriptures consistently lift our view upward to “Jerusalem which is above.” Galatians 4:26. To “mount Sion… the heavenly Jerusalem.” Hebrews 12:22. And to a kingdom not established by human hands.
When it comes to eschatology, I once thought I had these things more clearly mapped out and arranged in my mind, and spoke of them with a greater measure of confidence than I do now. But I’ve since learned that having answers is not the same as understanding, especially when those answers begin to draw the eye away from Christ. Since then, I’ve been slower to speak with certainty where Scripture itself seems to redirect the focus. But this much seems clear: as Christ Himself becomes the focus, many of the questions that once consumed us begin to lose their grip. There is, perhaps, something humbling in that. We are not called to decipher every detail of the future, but to behold the Son of God as He is revealed.
One thing I have noticed over the years is how easily prophecy can become the center of attention. Conversations that begin with Christ often drift toward world events, political developments, wars, rumors of wars, and endless discussions about what might happen next. Before long, the focus is no longer upon the Savior who has come, but upon trying to decipher what may be coming.
I have a dear friend whom I’ve listened to for well over twenty years. He speaks each week to a small congregation and recently began a series through the book of Revelation. A few months into the study, and only several chapters in, he said something along these lines, ‘I’m sure that once I get done with this exposition, you will understand far less about the book than you do even now.’
I thought that was such a classic remark, and just like him to say something like that. But the more I listened, the more I realized that his remark was not really about understanding less. It was about learning what matters most. There is very little effort to explain every detail or unravel every mystery. Instead, the emphasis continually returns to Christ. Whatever else Revelation may contain, it is first and foremost a revelation of Jesus Christ. The result is that you leave thinking less about the endless stream of alarming headlines and anxious speculation concerning the future, and more about the Savior who remains unchanged through it all.
I am not suggesting that prophecy is unimportant, nor that Christians should cease studying those portions of Scripture. Far from it. But perhaps we would do well to remember that prophecy, like the rest of Scripture, was given to bear witness of Christ. John 5:39. And if our study of future things leaves us more occupied with signs than with the Savior, more interested in speculation than in Christ Himself, then something has gone wrong along the way. ‘For the testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy.” Revelation 19:10. MPJ