Summary: Apocalyptic signs are signs of evil, not of the end of the world; they point us to a person, not to a particular time.

You wouldn’t believe how many internet sites are devoted to Biblical prophecy about the end times. Or maybe you would. Some of them focus on natural disasters, some identify various world leaders as the Antichrist, others see events in Israel and the Middle East as key. One site highlights UFO’s, others concentrate on trends toward world government, from the Kyoto accords to the WTO. What are we to make of it all? How are we to interpret the signs? Are we to ignore them, saying it’s all metaphor, or should we search them for a detailed road map to Armageddon? Should we consider this stage in our history to be a wake-up call from God or just a bump in the road toward universal peace and prosperity?

Jesus begins this passage in Luke with an observation about one of the great structures of the ancient world, the temple in Jerusalem. In Jesus’ day, Jerusalem’s temple was in the midst of a grand rebuilding program. Herod the great started it in about 20 BC and the building wasn’t complete until forty years or so after Jesus’ death. It was decorated with gifts from most of the surrounding countries and had received notice around the entire Roman world. And it was also the center of worship for the Jewish people, not only the sign and symbol of their source of power and meaning, but also its very dwelling place. It’s tempting to think of the Twin Towers, and draw explicit parallels, isn’t it? Of course there are parallels. But which ones are legitimate?

All three of the synoptic gospels - by the way, synoptic means “look-alike” and the term refers to Matthew, Mark and Luke - deal with this set of Jesus’ teachings. Now both Old and New Testament prophecy typically points to a near-term event and an end-time event. Sometimes the prophet deals with both short- and long-term at the same time, and sometimes he moves back and forth between the two; sometimes it’s hard to tell which, since the events mirror and echo one another. Mark’s account has the greatest ambiguity in the time references, Matthew focuses on the long-term realization, while Luke highlights the short-term, in particular the destruction of Jerusalem. The discourse is both prophetic and apocalyptic. The prophecy part comes as Jesus speaks about Jerusalem, and the temple, and what his hearers can expect from this life. Prophetic promise frames itself in terms of everyday history. God works - and will continue to work - through agents already present. The next part of the passage, which we are not going to look at today, is more apocalyptic - that word means an opening up - because it speaks of God’s breaking into history in an unexpected and marvelous way.

The time frame Jesus is dealing with begins with persecution in the early church and ends with the Lord’s return, a time frame we now know represents centuries, even millennia. When the God’s people come to the final showdown between good and evil at the end of time, God will step in through the Son of Man to deliver them. In the meantime, in the short term, the disciples will face persecution. Israel will be overrun. And some aspects of that destruction will be repeated toward the end of time as well.

Jesus gets their attention by declaring that the building which is the heart and soul of their identity is not permanent. “The days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.” [v. 6] This was an absolutely devastating idea. How could God allow his very own sacred place of worship to be reduced to rubble - especially after so much effort had gone into its building? But this is Jesus, not just their rabbi, but the Messiah, who ought to know about these things, and so the disciples ask - sort of gingerly, “Teacher, when will this be, and what will be the sign that this is about to take place?” [v. 7]

So Jesus gives them a list of things to expect. It is, in effect, a chronology of coming events - but in reverse. There will be messianic pretenders. There will be wars. There will be earthquakes and famines. There will be signs and portents. But before any of that happens, there will be persecution. It starts almost immediately after the crucifixion. Enemies will lay hands on the disciples, persecute them, and confine them to prisons. Some of this persecution will come from their own people, the Jews. The disciples will testify before kings and governors. Throughout all of this, the most important role for the disciple is that of witness. As we have seen in the centuries since Jesus first spoke these words, the most effective witnessing usually takes place in the presence of the most intense possible pressure to renounce one’s faith.

Can you imagine how the disciples must have felt? We, after all, have the witness of millennia of martyrs to look to for examples of courage triumphing over persecution... But the Jews, the early Christians, did not. They had had martyrs, certainly, prophets had been put to death throughout their entire history, but not triumphant ones. If we wonder how to defend our faith to friends, how do you suppose the disciples felt at being told they’d have to defend the gospel? In front of priests and kings and governors yet, and faced with the threat of floggings and worse? But Jesus tells the disciples not to worry about what they should say, promising that God will give them the right words when the time comes. Oh, yeah, sure. Not me, Lord. Let this cup pass. And his next words aren’t much more reassuring.

Jesus goes on to tell them that although “they will put some of you to death... But not a hair of your head will perish.” [v. 16,18] They’ll kill some of us, but our hair will survive? Well, I’m being facetious, of course, but it does seem to be a contradiction, doesn’t it. It is a paradox. Jesus is drawing a distinction here between temporary life - this one that we know here, on earth, and eternal life, which only he can give.

What are the parallels between Jesus’ time and ours? Where do the Twin Towers stand - and fall - amid all of these prophecies?

It begins with persecution and it ends with false messiahs. Between the two come wars and earthquakes, famines and revolutions, invasions and eclipses and plagues. All span the centuries. They are present possibilities for the saints as long as Jesus tarries. And as long as there is any doubt, as long as anyone has to look around and say, “Is this the time?” the time has not yet come. Only one main feature has changed, really, from that time to this. We no longer have to fear being hauled in front of the synagogue authorities, do we? Well, I suppose that the Messianic Jew, that is the Jew who accepts Jesus Christ as Messiah and Lord - experiences something like persecution from the synagogue. And of course the ultra-religious parties in Israel are opposed to proselytization. But except for that minor distinction, from the time Jesus departed until he returns again, rejection and suffering have often come hand in hand with the decision to believe. Even from one’s own family members.

What Jesus accomplishes in this discourse is to reassure believers that God is advancing his agenda even when we can’t see it. God’s control of events encompasses all kinds of calamities, and his call to us amid them all is to faithfulness. Disasters warn us of impending judgment. Peace and prosperity lull us into complacency, a complacency not only about the present but a more serious complacency about eternity itself. And as painful as the fall of Jerusalem was to the Jews - and as painful as the fall of the World Trade Center has been for us - it is nothing compared to the judgment to come. Our culture minimizes God’s authority of God to punish unrighteousness - if it acknowledges it at all. Yet that theme is one of the more important notes raised in this passage.

When it comes to God predicting the future, our culture has a love-hate relationship, doesn’t it? It’s one of the odder features of our time that at the same time the popularity of astrology and palmistry and Tarot are soaring, the belief in God’s ability to give his prophets the ability to read the future has waned. Does it mean that people like the idea that the future isn’t random? Does it mean that people actually like the idea that something larger than themselves is operating on their lives? What is it about God that makes them so unwilling to listen to his take on it all? I suspect it’s that very call to be ready to face judgment.

A gypsy’s promise of a dark stranger and a trip across water are a whole lot more titillating than Biblical predictions of doom. Many Christians question whether Jesus actually made any such predictions at all. They attribute his prophecies to a later editor’s attempt to explain all the bad things that were happening in their world, and limit Jesus to the role of religious teacher of wisdom, or perhaps a radical revolutionary, a prophet of social change. If Jesus is a prophet, they say, it’s not because he predicts the future, but because he convicts us in the present, calling us to love instead of hate, to reach out instead of gather in. But why can’t Jesus be both? A prophet speaks for God on all subjects, showing us past and future, judgment and mercy, death and life.

And Jesus does promise life. In the midst of all these dire predictions, Jesus promises his followers that if they only hang on, they will win through. The only word they need, the “Open Sesame” if you will, is the name of Jesus itself. God will give them the strength they will need, God will give them the words they will need, and God will give them their lives back. Not the old broken ones, but the original creation restored.

But this promise of final vindication comes with another important corollary. The church isn’t called to enforce compliance on those around it; rather, we as a community will suffer as Christ did until he returns. If we forget that we bear a cross rather than a sword is to abandon a basic aspect of our calling. When the church resorted to the sword at various times in her history she only set Christ’s cause back. Government may bear the sword against evil, but the church may not. Our calling is to minister to the wounded, to speak the truth, and to hold up the power and hope of the gospel.

The church is in just as much danger of pain and rejection in the present as it has been in other times and places. The persecution of Christians has never been more widespread or pervasive. One source states that 45 million Christians were killed for their faith in the 20th century, mostly at the hands of communist and Islamic regimes. The 21st century shows no signs of a decrease. Of equal concern, however, is the growing secularization of Western society. We must be prepared to witness to Christ before the world even when it is unpopular or dangerous. in fact, persecution is a call us to witness, not to compromise or temporize. As it was in the beginning of Christianity, so it is now, and so it will be until the Jesus returns.

Well. Jesus’ teaching on the end times is specific enough to keep us watching, it is universal enough to keep us constantly reminded of his predictions and promises, but it is also general enough that we should never give in to the temptation to predict exactly when Jesus will appear. We know he is coming back for us, and we should keep watching, living in anticipation of his return. But there is far too much to do for us to spend much time gazing at the heavens.

So what are our lessons?

First, God is in control. Nothing that is happening around us has come as any surprise to him, and since we have been warned, it shouldn’t come as any surprise to us, either. Sometimes we get impatient with God, and with his timing. We complain that God does not hear the cries of his people and that evil seems to be victorious. Jesus is affirming that regardless of the dire events swirling around us that God is in control of history. He calls us to be patient and to use our time witnessing to the good news.

Second, God is righteous. When he judges, it will be comprehensive, far-reaching, inescapable. No defense lawyer will sit at the celestial table to argue the merits of our case on the basis of procedural error, our good intentions or a lifetime of community service, or to dismiss the case on the grounds of failure to read us our rights. The only righteousness that will triumph is that of Christ. A decision to appear before the bar undefended by Christ will result in a guilty verdict.

Third, we are called to reflect on where we have placed our trust. Why did Israel lose her precious temple? Jesus wept over the city of Jerusalem, saying, “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. Indeed, the days will come upon you, when your enemies will set up ramparts around you and surround you, and hem you in on every side. They will crush you to the ground, you and your children within you, and they will not leave within you one stone upon another; because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.” [Lk 19:42-44]

She did not recognize the time of her visitation from God. We must learn how to recognize the times of our visitation from God, or Israel’s story will become ours. Israel paved the way for her own judgment. Have Americans done the same thing?

When one looks at a powerful nation, it is easy to think that it will exist forever. The Jews were sure their temple would last forever, even though it was already the third in their history. Most people at the height of the Roman empire would have found it difficult to imagine that one day it would be relegated to the pages of history. Shelley’s famous poem Ozymandias deals with this very theme.

I met a traveler from an antique land

Who said, “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone stand

in the desert. Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

and wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read.:

“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”

Nothing beside remains.

Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,

the lone and level sands stretch far away.

Where do we place our trust?

One preacher I read this week referred to our society as the great Temple of Judeo Christian culture, beautiful and long in building, built on the foundation of long accepted scriptural principles. He said, and I agree, that it has been undermined at the foundations, and is now shaking down around our heads. The fall of the Twin Towers, real and painful and shockingly visible as it was, is also in a very real way a mirror of the more troubling, self-inflicted destruction that is taking place around us.

Apocalyptic signs are signs of evil, not of the end of the world. Anyone can point to the apocalyptic signs we find in the Bible: false messiahs, wars, insurrections, earthquakes, famines, plagues, strange events in the skies, and link them up with current events. That is because they happen in every age. They may spell the end of the world for many people, but not for all. However, the very existence of evil is a sign that should, indeed must, point us away from the world's promises, and toward Christ's promise that God will, in the end, bring his own safely home.