If there were a Library of Congress for CCM media in the 1990s, the Left Behind series would be selected as first-tier cultural relevance. The infamous novels by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins are an integral feature of 90s evangelicalism and did much to shape the eschatological imagination of my generation. Instead of savoring and harnessing the expectation of Christ's return for the ministry of reconciliation, this narrative helped buoy unhealthy us versus them, escapism mentalities.
Left Behind is a sixteen-part series of novels that follow a handful of characters working together to foil the plans of the antichrist in a post-rapture tribulation scenario. Clutching tightly to premillennial dispensationalism theology, the novels helped popularize a less than two-hundred-year-old eschatological framework into the forefront of evangelical thought. For most of my childhood growing up in the church, to question the two pillars of this belief — the rapture event and the persecutory tribulation event — was anathema. No one questioned it. To disbelieve in the rapture was to disbelieve the Gospel; a separate eschatology implied an assumed loss of faith.
As such, many of us who grew up with such lockstep beliefs around the rapture and the antichrist experienced a paradigm shift upon learning that other narratives were available. The tremors intensified at the realization that these alternatives were not only options but that they dated back to the early Christian church. Agree or disagree with the theological and biblical validity of it, history shows us that rapture theology is more of a modern fad than orthodox Christian belief.
This realization tends to be the first drip in a watershed moment for the Christian who believes the details of the mark of the beast are tightly bound to the validity and infallibility of scripture. If we aren't getting barcodes tattooed on our foreheads, who's to say the resurrection even happened? Of course, that's quite a leap, but if we aren't approaching scripture correctly, we risk equating tertiary things with primary ones.
Whenever someone at church would ask my Dad if he was 'pre-trib or post-trib' (an abbreviated way of asking if rapture will happen before or after the great tribulation for believers), Dad would answer, "I'm pan-trib. It's all gonna pan out somehow." Some would chuckle, but others were offended at Dad's refusal to take it all so seriously.
I won't go into much of the history of these divides (though you should certainly study for yourself). What's most interesting to me about eschatological narratives are the motivations underneath them. Rather than unite on the living hope of Christ's promised return, we prefer to compete for our preferred story. Do our eschatologies say more about us than the hope of glory?
Eschatology really matters. What we believe about the end of all things has serious implications for what we do today. Eschaton fuels telos. So when we take our beliefs to the end, how do they play out? Does belief in the rapture make us more loving? Or does it create a subliminal hierarchy of privileged believers and doomed losers? What about postmillennialism? Does such a positive outlook on Christian earthly destiny motivate or take the fight out of us? The answers to these questions will likely differ based on the individual, but what I hope to generate is more examination of our assumed beliefs. As the Cultish podcast guys say, “Bad theology hurts people.” Not only does it hurt us to believe unhelpful or extrabiblical things, but it impacts the way we treat others, too.
Here's a good litmus test for diagnosing our grip on the tertiary: if this doesn't happen, will it shake my faith? Can we believe with hands closed to the primaries and open to the tertiary things? The reformer Martin Luther has been attributed (probably falsely) as saying, "Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree." The quote may be misattributed, but it has a ring of truth. Rather than a passive approach, the prerogative here is to live in light of the end God has for us, not live for it. It is rebelliously present despite the human impulse to always be angled toward the next thing.
All in all, our best course as we navigate eschatological waters might be to take the advice of singer-songwriter Sondre Lerche: "Baby, be prepared to be surprised." Jesus told us we'd never predict or anticipate the end of days. Why should we spend our days conspiring to guess the details? They aren't for us. But the Great Commission is.
Peter gives us great advice along these lines in 1 Peter 7-11:
The end of all things is near; therefore, be alert and sober-minded for prayer. Above all, maintain constant love for one another, since love covers a multitude of sins. Be hospitable to one another without complaining. Just as each one has received a gift, use it to serve others, as good stewards of the varied grace of God. If anyone speaks, let it be as one who speaks God’s words; if anyone serves, let it be from the strength God provides, so that God may be glorified through Jesus Christ in everything. To him be the glory and the power forever and ever. Amen.
Faithful Christians must find unity in the axiom of Jesus' return as reality. We cannot get caught up in the apocalyptic details as if they live on par with the Gospel. We can smile at the future - whatever it pans out to be.