1 Th 4:13-18, Rv 7:9-17

2 May 2004

4th Sunday of Easter

“Caught Up with the Rapture”

            Some journalists have recently verified the authenticity of a secret survival guide produced by the Vatican.  Written in the form of a document from John Paul II, it’s intended to guarantee the existence of the priesthood when the traumatic events associated with end times prophecies begin to occur.  Allegedly, this was only for the benefit of the clergy, but some Roman Catholic priests have decided to leak this information to the public.

            Certain scholars, after investigating the Papal Letter and the relevant prophecies, have determined that there’s an 83 percent chance that before this summer is over, the end times disasters will have begun.  Reference is made to an upsurge in demonic possessions, terrorist attacks on the scale of 9-11, and recommendations to store away canned goods and water purification supplies.

            You may ask, what is the source of this information?  Who are these journalists reporting on this secret Vatican document?  I’ll have you know…I discovered my source while in the checkout line at Wegman’s!  It is none other than the May 10th issue of the supermarket tabloid newspaper, the Sun!  (Still, I shouldn’t automatically discount the story solely due to its source!)  I mention this as just one example of how our popular culture has a gloomy fascination with things to come.

            Today is the first of four weeks in a row that we’ll be looking at the book of Revelation.  I hope we can better understand this last book of the Bible.  In the process, maybe we can rescue it from the clutches of those who claim that it’s only about the future—a future, by the way, that only they can interpret.  Then there are those who just give up—who say the imagery in Revelation is impossible to understand.  Better stick with other parts of the Bible!

But before looking at today’s reading in Revelation, I’ve included the passage from 1 Thessalonians 4 which is the primary scripture used to support the doctrine of the rapture of the church.  I’m especially referring to verse 17, which says that we “will be caught up in the clouds together with them [that is, the dead in Christ] to meet the Lord in the air; and so we will be with the Lord forever.”

            What has prompted me to include this scripture text is the publication of the twelfth volume of the Left Behind series of novels.  That’s the series of stories co-written by Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins.  Those who are familiar with premillennial dispensationalist theology would be well acquainted with the ideas presented in these books.

            Here’s a quick lesson for those who are not familiar with those two particular terms.  “Premillennial” refers to the belief that Jesus Christ will return before the millennium, that is, the thousand year reign mentioned in Revelation 20.  His second advent will come with warnings:  horrible disasters, great tribulation, and the appearance of the Antichrist, among other things.  (By the way, a postmillennialist maintains that first the whole world will be converted by the gospel, and then Jesus will return.)

“Dispensationalism” is a way of interpreting the flow of history that divides it into a number of sections, usually seven, which are called “dispensations.”  The dispensational pattern I’m familiar with runs like this.  The first, known as the dispensation of innocence, goes from creation to the fall of the human race.  The next one runs from the fall to the rainbow covenant with Noah.  Third, we go from Noah to the covenant with Abraham, and then from Abraham to the law of Moses.  Then the fifth one encompasses the period from the giving of the law up to the ministry of Jesus.  We’re currently in the sixth dispensation, the church era.  The seventh will be the so-called “end times.”

According to this theology, as one dispensation gives way to the next, there’s also a fundamental change in the way God deals with the human race—including multiple plans of salvation.  It’s a complex scheme, unnecessarily so, according to the vast majority of Christian thinking.  Dispensationalism makes sharp distinctions where it need not do so, such as between the Old and New Testaments.  It rejects the notion of God having one plan for the entire human race—a plan which is called by the Westminster Confession of Faith, “the covenant of grace” (ch. 7).

Dispensationalism only appeared in the 1800s.  John Nelson Darby popularized it at mid-century.  And it was with the publication of the Scofield Reference Bible in 1909 that things really took off.  The dawn of the atomic age and the founding of the state of Israel seemed a perfect fit for the dispensational idea.  Later in the century, so-called prophecy experts (such as Hal Lindsey) gained an ever greater audience.  Now, I should say:  not all premillennialists are dispensationalists.  It’s just that they often go together.

I should also say:  I haven’t read any of the books in the Left Behind series.  My concern is not in critiquing the stories themselves.  I’m more interested in their message and what’s behind it.

And I suppose I should also say that I don’t know if the rapture will happen or not.  That is, I don’t know if people will suddenly materialize up in the sky—like being beamed up to the Enterprise on Star Trek—but I won’t exclude the possibility.  My affirmation of the sovereignty of God prevents me from insisting on any particular method.  God is free to act in any way that God sees fit!  I guess I just find it interesting, given the scant scriptural support for such a belief, how tenaciously some people hold on to this idea.

I’m especially skeptical of the folks who whip out their charts of the end times.  You’ve seen these?  They have the exact sequence of events of things yet to come.  The one on our bulletin cover is a bare bones version.  I’ve seen some that go into great detail—they’re real works of art!

There are those who claim to know when all this gets set into motion, whether by rapture of the church or some other mechanism.  We would do well to hear Jesus when he says in Matthew 24:  “about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father” (v. 36).  Surely, a major dose of humility is required when talking about stuff that hasn’t even happened yet!

            One very real danger of belief in the rapture is that it can degenerate into a kind of cynicism; it can become an escapist theology.  Actually, it very literally becomes an escapist theology!  But it doesn’t have to be that way.  Taking the position of those who, as I already said, tenaciously insist on the rapture, the point is made that the expectation of the rapture of the church actually encourages Christians to truly care about what happens here and now.  To that, I say “amen.”

            Unfortunately, practice doesn’t always match theory.  Speaking from my own experience, the people I’ve known who most fervently believed in the rapture also tended to be those who focused on it simply as an escape from suffering—or worse, an escape from responsibility.

            We’ve seen this at the national level in recent years.  A good example is James Watt, who was Ronald Reagan's Secretary of the Interior.  He outlined his environmental policies before a Congressional committee, suggesting that we need not worry too much about exploiting our natural resources, because "I don't know how many future generations we can count on until the Lord returns."[1]  Compare that with the quote attributed to Martin Luther, “that if he knew the world was to end tomorrow, he would plant a tree.”[2]  So those are two options in facing the end of the world as we know it.

            This renunciation of responsibility concerning God’s creation often applies to living together peacefully, as well.  I’ve actually heard ministers “insist on the impossibility of avoiding Armageddon.  The end is near.  Resistance is futile.  Why should anyone support peace in the Middle East, or anywhere else,” for that matter?[3]  That is how a lazy and sloppy reading of scripture becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.  If that’s how we think, we’ll take steps to see that it does happen—or we’ll refrain from taking any steps that may prevent it.

By the way, a couple of those pastors are local folks who aired their opinions during a minister’s meeting here at Westminster some time ago.  And here’s what really blew my mind:  our topic was conflict resolution.

            Anyway, I guess I’ve made my point about the possibility of rapture theology providing cover for a selfish concern to make sure I’ve got my ticket punched to get out before everything goes up in flames!  It also contributes to the sense of despair felt by many Christians.  What a very different picture we get from our scripture text in Revelation 7.

            First, let me quickly set the stage.  In chapter 1, we have the introduction and John’s first vision of the glorified Christ.  Chapters 2 and 3 contain messages to seven churches in Asia Minor.  Visions of the glory of God and of the Lamb occupy chapters 4 and 5.  A scroll sealed with seven seals is introduced, one that only the Lamb is found worthy to open.  In chapter 6, the first six seals are opened, unleashing various kinds of devastation on the earth.  The breaking of the first four seals reveals figures who’ve become known as the four horsemen of the apocalypse.

            With chapter 7, we have two visions that form an interlude before the seventh seal is opened.  The first vision is in verses 1 to 8.  An angel commands that the redeemed be marked on their foreheads before the forces of destruction are let loose.  There is an explicit number given:  144,000.  That’s 12,000 from each of the twelve tribes of Israel.  Attempts to take this number literally miss the point.  It’s a symbol of completeness—not one is missing.  Not one of the faithful is forgotten.

            Then we come to the vision that appears in our text.  In this vision, the number is too vast to be counted.  It’s a “great multitude…from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages” (v. 9).  They’re joined by all the angels, before God, offering a sevenfold praise of “Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might” (v. 12).  It is sevenfold praise; it is perfect.

            We don’t get an image of anyone looking for the easy way out.  We’re told that they “have come out of the great ordeal” (v. 14).  Like the book of Revelation itself, this vision is meant to give assurance to the persecuted faithful.  We hear promises which recall the prophet Isaiah (49:10, 25:8):  “They will hunger no more, and thirst no more…God will wipe away every tear from their eyes” (vv. 16-17).

What does the future hold, for this life and the next?  For some people, that’s a question that gives them joy—for others, it fills them with dread.  And then there are some folks, for whatever reason, who seem unable to think beyond next week.

In 1978, the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church issued a report stating:  “The Cosmos will at last be redeemed in all its fullness from its bondage to sin, decay, and death; not as the end result of any historical process which can now be observed, but purely and only because God has determined that it will be so.”[4]

            We are free to believe in the rapture of the church if we so wish.  But we shouldn’t think that God is compelled to observe any timetable that humans come up with.  There are always those who believe that fear is the best motivation for serving God.  The essence of the gospel of Christ is that we are set free from fear—or control by others—in order to serve.  As Paul says in 1 Thessalonians 4, we are to “encourage one another with these words” (v. 18).

            I’ll close with one other reminder from the apostle.  In 2 Timothy 1:7, he says that “God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline.”  That’s a good one to remember.  A loving God holds our future.

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