Eternal Life

Revelation, the Rapture, and What's Most Important

Revelation 21:1-6

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,

“See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them and be their God; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.”

And the one who was seated on the throne said, “See, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.” Then he said to me, “It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To the thirsty I will give water as a gift from the spring of the water of life.


Do you teach them about the rapture? That’s the question a woman asked me as I sat at Starbucks trying to write a sermon. On Thursdays before I preach, I usually head to a coffee shop or the library to write. It’s not uncommon for someone to strike up a conversation—I guess it’s not every day you see someone sitting in public with a Bible open.

On this day, a woman and her husband sat at the same large table as me. I could feel her eyes on me. I knew what was coming. I made the mistake of looking up from my screen—and she got me.

“So, are you a Bible student?”

No, I’m a pastor here in New Pal.

“Well, you’re awfully young to be a pastor…” (Like I haven’t heard that one before.)

“What’s your church?”

When I said, “Cross of Grace Lutheran Church,” the back-and-forth stopped, and she proceeded to tell me how great her church and her pastor are.

Then, either noticing my intentional body language—literally leaning away—or the way I kept glancing back at my half-written sermon, she ended the conversation with one last question:

“Do you teach them about the rapture?”

The rapture? I thought. I tried to come up with a kind response instead of simply saying, “Uh… no.”

“Well, in my tradition, that’s not something we focus on…” I said.

And goodness, was she disappointed in that answer.

“Well, you gotta teach them about the rapture. It’s the most important thing.”

The most important thing? There’s so much I could have—should have—asked:

  • What do you mean by rapture?

  • Why is it the most important thing?

  • What does your pastor say when preaching about it?

  • Who do you think gets left behind—and why?

    But I had a sermon to finish, after all.

I’ve never preached on “the rapture.” I don’t think I’ve ever even preached on a passage from Revelation. So, wherever you are, lady, this one’s for you. Because you’re partially right—it is important for us to understand what the rapture is, the bad and harmful theology behind it, and what we might imagine in its place when we talk about life after death.

Some of you know all about the rapture. Maybe you grew up in a more fundamentalist church or were terrified by the Left Behind series in the mid 90s. Others of you, good Lutherans that you are, may only have a vague idea of what it means. But all of us have been exposed to some version of this belief.

Usually, when people talk about the rapture, it’s part of a theology called dispensationalism. You may have never heard that word, but you’ve definitely seen signs of it—like every time you pass a billboard like this, now how’d that pan out?

Or this…

Or when you notice our culture’s fascination with the apocalypse and end time predictions.

Not to bore you too much, but the idea of the rapture was invented by a British preacher named John Nelson Darby in the 1830s. He took the traditional understanding of Jesus’ return and split it into two parts. First comes the rapture: Jesus appears in the sky, snatches up born-again Christians, and whisks them off to heaven for seven years. During that time, God inflicts wrath on the earth and Christians watch safely from above. Then, after those seven years, comes the final return of Jesus to fight the battle of Armageddon (mentioned in Revelation) and establish an earthly kingdom.

This whole timeline is a patchwork—stitched together from one verse in 1 Thessalonians, three from Daniel, and a single verse from Revelation. Behind all that is a bad theology and a harmful hermeneutic—a way of reading and understanding the Bible.

First, this approach takes the Bible literally, as if Revelation were some sort of roadmap to the end times. But, as you’ve heard us say before, we mustn't read the Bible literally—we’re called to read it literate-ly and seriously, taking into account the many voices and genres that make up Scripture. Revelation is apocalyptic literature, a kind of writing well known to the seven first-century churches it was written for. It’s not a crystal ball—it’s a prophetic vision full of metaphor and symbolic imagery, not a literal forecast of future events.

Second, this theology takes a few out-of-context verses to offer false certainty about what’s to come, rather than wrestling with the mystery of faith. The Bible gives us many different images of Jesus’ return: a banquet in Luke, a wedding feast in Matthew, paradise, green pastures, even a return to Eden. But none of these say when this will happen. In fact, Jesus says clearly: “About that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” (Matthew 24:36) Jesus doesn’t want us trying to piece together a divine timeline. He wants us to live in hope and with trust.

And perhaps the biggest thing the rapture gets wrong is this: the idea that we’ll float off to heaven and away from all this; that our souls get to finally escape the pain of this world and just be with Jesus. But here’s the thing: the Bible never says we’re just souls that happen to have bodies. We are both—body and soul—and they will not be separated. Resurrection always includes the beautiful body God gave you.

And what if—just hear me out—what if at the end of all things, we don’t go to heaven… What if heaven comes to us?

Which is exactly what Revelation says. God establishes a new heaven and a new earth here, in our midst, and God takes up residence with us. Doesn’t that sound more like the God revealed to us in Jesus Christ? The God who entered into our suffering? The God who heals what is hurt? The God who accomplishes the divine plan through seemingly insignificant people, places, and things.

It should be no surprise, then, that God would come down to this broken world—full of broken people—and heal it until there are no more tears, no more mourning or pain or death, and make a home here with us. That sounds like the God we know in Jesus.

Lutheran theologian Barbara Rossing, an expert on the rapture and end-times thinking, says people are drawn to rapture theology because they want to see the Bible come to life. They want to connect Scripture with their own lives. They want to experience God—and think that can only happen if they leave this place.

But the truth is: the Bible is coming to life and we do experience God—in this world, in our lives.

The Bible comes to life everytime we feed someone who is hungry, give water to someone who is thirsty, wipe the tears trickling down one’s cheek, visit the imprisoned and detained, relieve someone’s pain, or welcome the immigrant.

We are in the presence of God here on earth every time we come to the table, when we share meals with our friends and our enemies, or as Jesus says, when we love others as he loves us.

Those acts—those holy, small, grace-filled acts—create little pockets of heaven on earth. They allow us to experience God right here and now, until that great day when God comes to live among us forever, making God’s kingdom come and God’s will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

So no—the rapture isn’t the most important thing.

But trusting that God will come down, give us new life, and dwell with us in a world made new, free of pain and suffering and death?

Now that sounds more like it.

Amen.




Snakes, Sin, and Eternal Life Now

John 3:14-21

“Just as Moses lifted up a serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life. For God so loved the world that he gave his only son, that whoever believes in him may not perish, but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.

“Those who believe in him are not condemned, but those who do not believe are condemned already because they have not believed in the name of the holy Son of God. And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world and they prefer the darkness to the light because their deeds are evil. For those who do what is evil hate the light and do not come to the light for fear that their deeds might be exposed. But those who do what is true come to the light so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.”


There’s a story way back in the Hebrew scriptures, in the book of Numbers, that tells of a time when the Israelites were making their in the wilderness, after they’d been liberated from slavery in Egypt, on their way to the Promised Land. They were a miserable, lost, wandering, struggling people, complaining about their lot in life, in spite of having recently been freed from slavery and oppression under Pharaoh. They were hungry, unsure about their future, not happy with and doubts about Moses, who had helped to liberate them in the first place.

And then there were snakes. Poisonous serpents. And the people perceived the serpents – as serpents were inclined to be perceived in Scripture – to be God’s punishment upon them for all of their complaining. The snakes bit and killed so many of them that they begged Moses to do something about it. So at God’s direction, Moses made some kind of a bronze snake on a pole – a sign and symbol of their affliction – so that whenever one of them got bit, they could simply look at the snake Moses had raised up on the pole, and they would be healed, and survive.

When Jesus brings this up this ancient story – generations later, as we heard in this morning’s Gospel – the connection is supposed to be obvious. “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him might have eternal life.” In other words, “look at that which plagues you and you will be made well.” “Face your fallen nature and let God raise you up.” “Look at the result of your sinfulness and watch what God will do with it.” “Lay eyes on those things that cause you such suffering, struggle, and strife, trusting that God’s grace … in Jesus … is enough to conquer them.”

For the Israelites in the wilderness, it was snakes. Generations later, it was – and is – the sins of humanity. For the Israelites in the wilderness, Moses gave them a snake on a pole. Generations later – it was Jesus, himself – on the cross, which we’re invited to see, and through which we’re encouraged to trust our healing to come.

(This modern-day sculpture, on the top of Mt. Nebo, in Jordan, was created to bring all of this together in a beautiful way. Not only is it a bronze serpent, maybe something like Moses lifted up, but it’s one in the shape of a cross and the crucified Christ, too.)

Anyway, in the wilderness, with Moses, the Israelites were told to “look and live,” so they do and they did. And our invitation is the same, “look and live,” but I wonder if it always works for us, in the same way.

See, I think the difference for us, too much of the time, is that we forget – or aren’t encouraged often enough – to realize all of this is meant to happen in real time. When we hear about “eternal life,” it seems to me that popular theology has convinced us that that only applies to life after we’re dead and gone from this life, as we know it. But that just isn’t always or only the way Jesus talks about eternal life.

Modern Christianity is obsessed with heaven and hell; with who gets in and who gets left behind; with how wonderful one is and how terrible the other will be. But Jesus came so that we could have life – and have it abundantly – right where we live. Paul preached about “being saved,” as a work in progress, as something that happens and that is happening to those who are trying to follow Jesus in this life – not just something that has happened or that will happen some day in the future.

When the Israelites were out there in the wilderness, suffering with those snakes, God gave them the gift of the serpent on the pole for their healing in the moment. God didn’t tell Moses to wait until they arrived in the Promised Land; until they made it out of the wilderness; until they suffered some more and struggled some more or until more of them died along the way. The command and the promise was that they should look at that bronze serpent, be healed, and live – right then and there.

But for some reason, too much of the time, we get to Jesus on the cross, and think our salvation and new life is all or only about the other side of heaven; that when Jesus talks about “eternal life,” he’s only talking about a gift we receive after we’re dead and gone; after the snakes and our sinfulness have had their way with us in this life. But listen closely to what he says in today’s Gospel. Much like Moses, his words are about what happens to us here and now, right where live, on this side of heaven, too.

He says, “…those who do not believe … are condemned, already…” (Maybe you could say, “those who do not believe are already being condemned.”) And he says, “…this is the judgement, that the light has come into the world and people prefer the darkness to the light, because their deeds are evil. Those who do what is evil hate the light and do not come the light for fear that their deeds might be exposed.”

In other words, our judgement isn’t only waiting for us once we’re dead and gone – in some kind of eternal Heaven or everlasting Hell, whatever that might look like. We also experience our judgment – much like the Isrealites in the wilderness – every day that we forget or deny or refuse to believe that God’s love and grace have already come; that the light has already dawned; that our deliverance – our eternal life – has already begun, in Jesus.

Those who do what is evil … those who commit sin and are slaves to sin … those who are plagued by shame, or troubled by regret, or saddled with sadness, or full of fear, or lacking faith … (do you know anyone like that?) … our judgment comes when any of that keeps us hiding in the darkness, sends us scurrying from the light, keeps us apart from God’s desire and ability to love us on this side of Heaven.

It’s not a judgement that nips at our heels like so many snake bites… It’s not a judgement that feels like punishment from on high… It’s not a judgement that’s waiting for us, either … scaring us with fear and dread for God’s wrath in the afterlife.

It’s a judgement that impacts our life as we know it, now, simply because it keeps us from living lives infused with hope, fully in the grip of God’s grace; lives liberated by the forgiveness, love, and mercy – already delivered – in Jesus Christ our Lord; the kind of “eternal life” that has already begun with his life, death, and resurrection.

And God doesn’t want any of this judgement for any one of us. And ours is a God who loves a visual aid.

Whether that’s a sculpture in the desert; a cross in the sanctuary; water in the font; bread and wine on the table; or a wall of grief on the altar during Lent, even, we need all the help and practice we can get looking at that which plagues us in this life, not fearing the darkness that surrounds us, seeing the source and result of our brokenness and that of the world, so that we can also look and live… see, acknowledge, and hope – with all the faith we can find – that God’s love is bigger. That we are worth it. And that our eternal life is already underway.

For God so loved the world … that we have this Cross and we have this Jesus …

For God so loved the world … that we have been, we are being, and we will be saved …

For God so loved the world … For God so loves the world …. That God didn’t send Jesus to condemn the world, but in order that the world – all of it and all of us – would be saved through him.

So let us see it and believe it and be changed by the blessing of this good news, so that we are not afraid to come to and live in the light of God’s grace and goodness;

…so that we aren’t afraid to come to and live in and share that kind of light with the broken, hurting, scared and scary world around us;

And so that the judgement of God is less like something that comes from a petulant, oppressive tyrant on the other side of eternity and more like something practical and holy – and something that can change us, here and now – thanks to a God who loves and forgives and cares for us, right where live, on this side of heaven, where eternity has already begun – on earth as it is in heaven – thanks to Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen