Advent and the Apocalypse

I used to be terrified of the rapture.

It’s a big deal in the Baptist church. There’s a lot of pulpit time devoted to descriptions of dead bodies popping out of caskets and cars who’s drivers are suddenly taken away to heaven leaving chaos and fiery wreckage on the highways. There are stories of children who are suddenly left without parents because they weren’t among those who had gotten saved.

My biggest fear was this passage from Matthew –

“But concerning that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only. Two men will be in the field; one will be taken and one left. Two women will be grinding at the mill; one will be taken and one left. Therefore, stay awake, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. But know this, that if the master of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.”
—Matthew 24:36;40-44

As a preteen, before getting out of bed in the morning I took a very literal approach to the day by praying the following prayer, “Dear God. I’m really do believe and expect that TODAY is the day for the rapture. In Jesus Name I Pray, Amen.” I thought that should cover me. After all, I was pretty sure the verse meant that if I expected it, it wouldn’t happen!

Fast forward to adulthood – I came to understand that I don’t really believe in the rapture anymore. I began to see it as an invention of self-righteous Christianity to terrify people into submission. Those who are born-again will be taken up into the sky out of harm’s way as the world ends, while all the rest will suffer horribly.

All I can think of is, “Nanny, nanny, foo-foo!”

So, what can all this possibly have to do with Christmas?

Every morning during Advent I’ve been meditating. I light a candle that’s in a jar and kneel in my little meditation corner, facing a window that looks out into our street. It’s dark at that hour. When I sit and hold the candle I see several reflections of the flame dancing in the windowpane. I practice centering prayer and work at emptying my heart and mind of all the junk that they collect.

I want to create space for the holy.

I stay that way, thinking, praying and breathing for about 20 minutes each morning. The very first day of Advent, as I came to the close of my time, the following verse drifted into my head. I prayed it out loud that day. And every day since.

“Even so, come Lord Jesus.” – Revelation 22:20

It’s from the heart of Biblical apocalyptical literature. Maybe this is the only way I can make sense of Jesus coming again into the world. At Christmas.

When I most need a sense of wholeness and peace – even so, come Lord Jesus.

When I get overwhelmed, overcommitted and overwrought – even so, come Lord Jesus.

When selfishness wins the day – even so. . .

See that candle dancing over there in that darkened window? Come, Lord Jesus.

You are welcome here.