Welp, we\u2019re still here. Despite dire declarations from doomsday disciples, Tuesday trudged along like every other Tuesday. No trumpet, no cloud-chariot, not even a polite postcard from Heaven. The only mysterious vanishing act at my house was my laundry, which I briefly mistook for divine intervention before realizing my children had raided the dresser again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In case you’re completely in the dark about what I’m talking about — we had ourselves another predicted rapture fall through. This was supposed to be a two day event, straddling September 23 and 24th.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
If you had your heart set on hovering above the current havoc, I am sorry. I know the world is weary and escape is enticing. But perhaps it\u2019s time for a little rapture reality check.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
First, the rapture as popularly preached is a fairly fresh phenomenon. Nobody in the first 1,800 years of Christianity was clutching charts and scanning the skies. It didn\u2019t really get traction until about 1830\u2014in Scotland, of all places. (You\u2019d think they\u2019d have had enough on their hands with the bagpipes.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Second, even if you do buy into it, your own scriptures say no one knows the day or the hour. So why were you treating Tuesday like it had a cosmic \u201creserved\u201d sign? That\u2019s like scheduling a surprise party for yourself and getting mad when nobody jumps out from behind the sofa.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Third\u2014and here\u2019s the clincher\u2014the real rescue already happened. Redemption is done. Salvation is sealed. What\u2019s left is not waiting for Heaven\u2019s helicopter but walking into the world\u2019s wreckage with work gloves on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
See, Jesus never told us to treat this planet like a bus stop. He told us to treat it like a blueprint. The church isn\u2019t supposed to be gazing at the clouds; it\u2019s supposed to be grinding in the gutters. Loving the neighbor. Feeding the famished. Clothing the cold. Welcoming the wanderer. Giving to the poor. He gave us a checklist, not a calendar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And yet\u2014the Venn diagram of those who eagerly expected to be airlifted this week and those who skip those very commands is a perfect circle. Instead of practicing compassion, they\u2019re perfecting countdowns. Instead of doing the hard, holy labor of loving, they\u2019re doodling timelines and hoping the world burns.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I get it. I once walked those same shores. I devoured the Left Behind<\/em> books, I trembled at the Antichrist, I fell for a rapture hoax when I was eight. But the Jesus of Scripture is not the God of the easy out. He doesn\u2019t hand out cloud tickets. He hands out callings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There is no rescue. There is only responsibility. And, if we take Him seriously, there is also relentless, redemptive, roll-up-your-sleeves work that makes this broken world a little more like Heaven.<\/p>\n\n\n\n So hang up the prophecy charts. Put away the cloud-gazing binoculars. Pick up a casserole dish, a coat, a kind word. Heaven isn\u2019t hovering in the distance\u2014it\u2019s supposed to be leaking out of us right here, right now. You know, that whole find the workers in the fields bit. <\/p>\n\n\n\n If you’re expecting a rapture while hoping for havoc on those left behind, you missed the whole message. Maybe go back to Sunday School — and this time, read the red letters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n