Building the Future Now

Tag: faith

  • What is the Kingdom of God?

    The Kingdom of God is one of the central ideas in the teachings of Jesus, yet it is also one of the most misunderstood. Today, many people equate it with heaven or the afterlife. But that is not what ancient Jews generally had in mind, nor is it exactly what Jesus was talking about. To understand how he conceived of the Kingdom of God, we first have to understand the world in which he lived. In this essay, we’ll explore what the Kingdom of God meant in Second Temple Judaism, how Jesus built upon and reinterpreted that tradition, and why I believe his vision still has profound relevance for the challenges facing our society today.

    What Ancient Jews Meant by the Kingdom of God

    When ancient Jews spoke about the Kingdom of God, they were generally not referring to Heaven. They envisioned God intervening in human history to establish his rule on Earth. This kingdom would center on the restoration of Israel, the defeat of evil, and the renewal of creation.

    Much of this expectation was rooted in God’s covenant with David as described in 2 Samuel 7. According to the biblical account, David united the kingdoms of Israel and Judah into a single monarchy. God then promises that a descendant from David’s line will forever rule over his people.

    Most archaeologists today believe that there really was a historical David who lived around the tenth century BCE. This is supported in part by the Tel Dan Stele’s reference to the “House of David.” However, many scholars doubt that his kingdom resembled the vast united monarchy described in the Bible. Instead, it was likely a much smaller highland kingdom whose size and influence were expanded by later biblical traditions.

    Over time, the Davidic covenant took on increasing importance. By the Second Temple period, hopes for a future heir from David’s line had become widespread. Judea had spent centuries under foreign domination by first Babylon, then Persia, followed by Greece, and finally Rome. Many Jews believed that God would soon intervene in history, overthrow these foreign powers, restore the line of David, and reunite Israel under a righteous king.

    For many Jews of this period, this restoration of the Davidic kingdom was one of the primary ways they envisioned the coming Kingdom of God. The expected Messiah would rule as God’s anointed representative. The word Messiah simply means “anointed one,” referring to the ancient practice of anointing Israelite kings with oil as a sign that they had been chosen by God. Jerusalem would once again become God’s holy city, Israel would be restored, and the nations would recognize God’s rule.

    This kingdom would be a true theocracy, with God as the ultimate king and the Messiah governing as God’s representative. Justice would replace corruption and oppression. The wicked would be judged, God’s law would be faithfully observed, and peace would replace violence.

    The coming of God’s kingdom also involved a cosmic renewal. The dead would be raised, the righteous vindicated, and a final judgment would take place. Evil and those forces opposed to God would be defeated, then Creation itself would be renewed. Images such as the Tree of Life, abundant fertility, and harmony within nature recalled the Garden of Eden and pointed toward the restoration of God’s original intention for creation. The prophet Isaiah envisioned a world where nations “shall beat their swords into plowshares,” symbolizing an age of lasting peace.

    Although centered in Israel, this kingdom ultimately had universal significance. God’s reign would extend beyond Israel to all nations, and all creation would acknowledge his sovereignty. For many Jews, this was not simply another era of history but the beginning of God’s final and enduring reign over a restored world.

    Jesus and the Kingdom

    Jesus’ message was deeply rooted in these Jewish expectations of the Kingdom. He did not invent an entirely new concept. Rather, he inherited the hopes of Second Temple Judaism: a Davidic Messiah, the resurrection of the dead, a final judgment, the restoration of Israel and the Twelve Tribes, and God’s reign over the Earth. Matthew 19:28 illustrates this continuity well. Speaking to his disciples, Jesus says:

    “You who have followed me will also sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.”

    This saying makes little sense outside the framework of Jewish restoration theology. Jesus expected God’s kingdom to be established, and his disciples would play a central role in that restored Israel.

    Where Jesus differs is not so much in what he expected as in how he understood the Kingdom to begin. While many of his contemporaries looked almost exclusively to God’s future intervention, Jesus proclaimed that the Kingdom was already beginning to break into the world through his ministry. The coming reign of God might still be in the future, but its first signs could already be seen.

    Jesus also placed remarkable emphasis on the people who would inherit the Kingdom. He repeatedly reverses normal social expectations. The Kingdom belongs not to the wealthy and powerful but to the poor, the meek, children, sinners, and outsiders. This concern for the marginalized has deep roots in the Hebrew prophets, but Jesus places it at the very center of his message.

    Most importantly, Jesus understood the Kingdom as something recognized through action and transformed lives. He calls his followers to love their enemies, forgive others, serve rather than dominate, feed the hungry, care for the poor, welcome children, and visit those in prison. Matthew 25 is perhaps the clearest example, where entrance into the Kingdom is connected not to correct belief alone but to concrete acts of compassion: feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, welcoming the stranger, and caring for those in need.

    Although Jesus’ mission began with Israel, there are strong indications that he envisioned God’s Kingdom ultimately extending beyond ethnic Israel. Stories such as the Good Samaritan, the faith of the Roman centurion, and the image of people coming from every direction to join the heavenly banquet all point toward a kingdom whose boundaries are far wider than many of his contemporaries expected.

    Finally, Jesus emphasizes an inner transformation alongside the outward renewal of the world. Mercy, purity of heart, forgiveness, humility, and love are not merely private virtues. They are the qualities that characterize citizens of God’s Kingdom. The Kingdom, therefore, is not simply a future political order established by divine intervention. It also begins wherever people embody the values of that coming world in the present.

    Why This Matters Today

    Whether or not one shares Jesus’ expectation of an imminent divine intervention, his vision of the Kingdom remains remarkably relevant. The values that Jesus associated with God’s Kingdom are timeless. These include compassion instead of domination, justice instead of exploitation, forgiveness instead of vengeance, and service instead of the pursuit of power.

    Many of the problems confronting our modern world stem from our failure to embody these principles. We are living through an age of increasing loneliness, political polarization, economic inequality, environmental degradation, and rapidly advancing technology. Artificial intelligence, in particular, forces us to ask what kind of civilization we are becoming. As I have argued in a previous essay, the systems we build will inevitably reflect the values of the society that creates them.

    Jesus also understood that lasting change begins with transformed people. A healthier society cannot simply be legislated into existence. It must be built by individuals and communities committed to compassion, justice, mercy, and forgiveness. These are not merely private virtues. They are the foundation of healthy institutions and, ultimately, of civilization itself.

    This is why I believe that the teachings of Jesus remain deeply relevant to the challenges posed by artificial intelligence. As we increasingly entrust decisions to technological systems, the moral character of the society designing those systems becomes ever more important. A civilization driven primarily by greed, fear, and domination will build technologies that reflect those priorities. One rooted in compassion, wisdom, and justice is far more likely to create technologies that support the flourishing of humanity.

    Jesus also taught that the Kingdom was measured by how a society treated its most vulnerable members. The poor, children, prisoners, the sick, widows, and strangers were not peripheral to his message; they stood at its center. Including the marginalized, lifting up the poor, and helping people rebuild their lives does more than alleviate suffering. It strengthens the moral fabric of our society. A community that surrounds its children with healthy relationships, meaningful opportunities, and genuine care is preparing the next generation to lead wisely. In that sense, building the Kingdom is not only about helping people today. It is also about shaping the future.

    Perhaps this is the deepest lesson we can take from Jesus. The Kingdom of God is not merely something to wait for. It is something to begin building. Every act of compassion, every effort to heal injustice, every community strengthened, and every life restored becomes a small budding of the world Jesus hoped was coming.

    Cover image is The Apocalypse Tapestry, 1373–1382. By Bondol, Jean (designer), and Nicolas Bataille (weaver). Château d’Angers, Angers, France. Source image found here.

    This essay is part 4 of a four-part series that deals with apocalyptic thought and its influence on modern society. You can read the other essays from the links below:

    Part 1: The Origins of Apocalyptic Thinking

    Part 2: Who Was the Historical Jesus

    Part 3: Is the Rapture Actually in the Bible?

    This essay develops themes explored more fully in my recently published book, The Last Apocalypse: Consciousness, Revelation, and the Future of Humanity.

    Buy my book here

  • Who Was the Historical Jesus?

    In the previous essay, we explored ancient Jewish apocalypticism and saw that the concept of the apocalypse originally meant much more than simply the destruction of the world. It was a way of understanding history, one in which God would intervene, evil would be defeated, the dead would be raised, and a new age would emerge. In this essay we’re going to continue that discussion by looking at how the message of Jesus fits squarely in the framework of apocalypticism.

    Who was the Historical Jesus

    Specifically, we’re going to ask a question that has occupied scholars for more than a century: Who was the historical Jesus? This may sound like a strange question. After all, haven’t billions of people already answered it? Christians believe Jesus was the Son of God, the Messiah, and the savior of humanity. But historians ask a slightly different question. They want to know who Jesus was within his own historical context, before centuries of doctrine and theology accumulated around him.

    To do that, we need to place Jesus back into the world in which he lived. He was not a modern American Christian. He was not a medieval Catholic. He was not a Protestant reformer. He was a first-century Jew living under Roman occupation during the Second Temple Period. And when we place him back into that world, a different picture begins to emerge.

    The scholar most responsible for this shift was Albert Schweitzer. In 1906, he published a landmark study arguing that Jesus was best understood as an apocalyptic prophet. More than a century later, this remains the dominant view among New Testament scholars. While there is disagreement over some of the details, most scholars agree that Jesus proclaimed the imminent arrival of the Kingdom of God and believed that history was approaching a dramatic turning point.

    That conclusion may surprise many modern Christians, because when people think of Jesus today, they often think of a moral teacher, a miracle worker, or a divine savior. But for Jesus and his earliest followers, the coming Kingdom of God was central to their belief. It was the lens through which they understood the world.

    Reconstructing Jesus

    Before we get to Jesus himself, however, we need to briefly discuss how historians know anything about him at all. Unlike many figures from antiquity, we actually possess a substantial amount of information about Jesus. We have the letters of Paul, written roughly twenty years after Jesus’ death. We have the four canonical gospels. We have the Book of Acts. And we even have a few references outside the Bible, most notably from the Jewish historian Josephus.

    None of these sources are perfect, however. The gospels were not written as modern biographies. They are theological documents written by believers who were trying to persuade others of who they thought Jesus was. But historians work with imperfect sources all the time. The task is to compare these different traditions, identify points of agreement, and reconstruct what is most likely historical.

    When we do that, a handful of facts emerge that are accepted by an overwhelming majority of scholars. Jesus was a real historical person. He was from Nazareth. He was baptized by John the Baptist. He carried out a ministry primarily in Galilee. He traveled to Jerusalem around Passover. And he was executed by the Romans through crucifixion. But the real question for us is not whether Jesus existed, it is instead ‘what was his message?’

    John the Baptist and the Apocalyptic Movement

    To answer this question, it helps to look at another important figure from Jesus’s time, John the Baptist, and Jesus’s relationship with him. John appears not only in the gospels but also in the writings of Josephus, giving us strong evidence that he was a real historical figure. His message was straightforward and urgent: repent, because the Kingdom of Heaven is near.

    In Matthew’s gospel we read:

    “In those days came John the Baptist, preaching in the wilderness of Judaea, and saying, Repent ye: for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”

    And in Luke’s version, John becomes even more dramatic:

    “And now also the axe is laid unto the root of the trees: every tree therefore which bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire.”

    This is classic apocalyptic language. Judgment is coming and the old order is about to be overturned. But what is also noteworthy is John’s response when people ask him what they should do about the coming judgement, his answer isn’t complicated theology. He tells people to share what they have with those in need. If you have two coats, give one away. If you have food, share it.

    In other words, apocalyptic expectation is immediately tied to ethical action. This pattern becomes central to Jesus’s message as well: the Kingdom is coming so we must change how we live.

    The Original Gospel

    Jesus’ public ministry begins immediately after John the Baptist’s. In fact, one of the strongest pieces of evidence that Jesus belonged to the broader apocalyptic movement is that he was baptized by John himself. This was probably an embarrassing fact for later Christians, because if Jesus was sinless and greater than John, why would he submit to John’s baptism? Yet the story appears in all four gospels. Historians often see this as a sign that it is likely authentic.

    After John’s arrest, Jesus takes up the message and begins proclaiming it throughout Galilee. Mark, which most scholars believe was the earliest gospel, summarizes Jesus’ message in just a few lines:

    “Now after that John was put in prison, Jesus came into Galilee, preaching the gospel of the kingdom of God, and saying, The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand: repent ye, and believe the gospel.”

    This is a remarkable passage because it tells us what Jesus himself considered to be the “good news.” Notice that it is not yet about his death, resurrection, or salvation through faith. Those ideas would become central to later Christian theology. Here, the good news is that the Kingdom of God is arriving. The original gospel or good news was an announcement that a new age was breaking into history, that God’s reign was beginning, and the old world was passing away.

    Luke’s gospel preserves a similar moment. Jesus stands in a synagogue and reads from the prophet Isaiah:

    “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor… to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives… to set at liberty them that are bruised.”

    Again, the emphasis is not on escaping the world. It is on the arrival of God’s kingdom within the world.

    This helps explain another aspect of Jesus’ ministry that often confuses modern readers: his miracles. Many people today see the miracles primarily as proof that Jesus was divine. But from an apocalyptic perspective, they served another purpose. They were signs that God’s kingdom was already beginning to break into the present age. When John sends messengers to see if Jesus is the Messiah, Jesus responds:

    “Go and shew John again those things which ye do hear and see: the blind receive their sight, and the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, and the poor have the gospel preached to them.”  

    In Luke 11, Jesus explicitly connects exorcisms to the Kingdom of God when he says:

    “But if I cast out devils by the finger of God, no doubt the kingdom of God is come upon you.”

    For Jesus, these acts were evidence that God’s power was already advancing against the forces of evil. Now, none of this means that Jesus was simply predicting the end of the world. In fact, one of the biggest misconceptions people have about apocalyptic prophets is that they are only interested in destruction. But as we discussed previously, apocalypse was fundamentally about transformation where the old world gives way to a new one.

    Living the Kingdom Now

    Jesus’s response to the coming Kingdom was simple: begin living according to the values of the Kingdom now.  This answer appears throughout his teachings. Love your enemies. Bless those who curse you. Forgive others. Give to the poor. Do not retaliate. Treat others as you would want to be treated. Be merciful. Care for the vulnerable.

    These teachings were not simply timeless moral principles floating in isolation. They were, in Jesus’ view, the way people prepared themselves for God’s coming kingdom. Or perhaps even more importantly, they were the way people began living in that kingdom now.

    One of my favorite examples comes from the Lord’s Prayer. Many of us know the line:

    “Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.”

    Think about what that actually means. The prayer is not asking for escape to Heaven, instead it is committing to implementing God’s will here on Earth. The Kingdom of God is not merely a heavenly destination. It is a vision of a world reordered according to justice, compassion, and the will of God.

    This also helps explain Jesus’ repeated warnings about wealth and power. Again and again, he criticizes systems of domination. He warns that one cannot serve both God and wealth, and he condemns religious leaders who seek status and prestige. He praises generosity. He elevates the poor, the widow, the outcast, and the marginalized.

    In the story of being tempted in the wilderness, Jesus even rejects political domination itself when offered authority over the kingdoms of the world. His vision of the kingdom was not based on conquest, rather it was based on service. Not domination, but compassion. Not power over others, but responsibility toward them.

    A Message for Our Time

    This, I think, is where the historical Jesus still speaks powerfully to our own age. We live in apocalyptic times too. Our anxieties may center on artificial intelligence, climate change, nuclear weapons, pandemics, inequality, and political instability rather than Roman occupation. But the underlying question remains remarkably similar: How should we live during times of uncertainty and upheaval?

    Jesus’ answer was not to withdraw from society. It was not to obsess over dates, predictions, or timelines. It was not to wait passively for rescue. His answer was to begin living the values of the coming kingdom now. We should care for the poor, lift up the vulnerable, love one’s enemies, and build communities grounded in compassion.

    Whether or not Jesus was correct about the timing of God’s intervention, his prescription for navigating turbulent times remains profoundly relevant. As a carpenter myself, I can’t help but appreciate one of the parables attributed to Jesus about two builders.

    “Therefore whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock: and the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock. And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand: and the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell: and great was the fall of it.”

    We can see in this parable what was truly important for Jesus: for people to hear what he was saying and then act on that. For the historical Jesus, his focus was not on his death and resurrection. It was about hearing his message on the Kingdom’s ethics and putting it into practice.

    What strikes me most is that Jesus’ response to apocalyptic anxiety was not fear. It was action. It was to live as though the Kingdom (or the future you hope for) is already beginning to emerge. Whether one is religious or not, that’s a powerful response to uncertainty. 

    Cover image is Sermon on the Mount by Cosimo Rosselli, 1482. Source image found here.

    This essay is part two of a three-part series that deals with apocalyptic thought and its influence on modern society. You can read the other essays from the links below:

    Part 1 – The Origins of Apocalyptic Thinking

    Part 3 – Is The Rapture Actually In The Bible?

    This essay develops themes explored more fully in my recently published book, The Last Apocalypse: Consciousness, Revelation, and the Future of Humanity

    Buy my book here

  • The Origins of Apocalyptic Thinking

    In the past few essays, I’ve primarily focused on secular concerns: artificial intelligence, climate change, pandemics, political polarization, and war. In the next three essays, however, we will turn to the religious and spiritual roots of apocalyptic thinking by exploring ancient Jewish apocalypticism, the historical Jesus, and the modern doctrine of the Rapture.

    Understanding these subjects is important because they continue to shape how millions of people think about the future. Ideas about the end times, divine judgment, the return of Christ, and the ultimate fate of humanity all emerged from this ancient worldview. Yet many modern assumptions about apocalypse differ dramatically from what ancient Jews and early Christians actually believed.

    We have already discussed how the word apocalypse does not originally mean world-ending destruction. In its original sense, the Greek word apokalypsis means an unveiling or revelation. In other words a disclosure of hidden truths. This older meaning is essential not only for understanding ancient Jewish apocalypticism, but also for understanding the ministry of Jesus, which emerged directly from this worldview.

    In this essay, I want to explore how ancient apocalyptic thought developed, what it meant to the people who embraced it, and what it might still have to teach us today. While ancient apocalyptic texts certainly contain visions of destruction and judgment, they are ultimately concerned with transformation. They ask how an upside-down world might be restored and what role human beings play within that process. That question remains just as relevant today.

    The World That Produced Apocalypticism

    To understand ancient Jewish apocalypticism, we first need a basic understanding of the historical world that produced it. Ancient Jewish history is often divided into two major periods: the First Temple Period and the Second Temple Period. The First Temple Period ended in 587 BCE when the Babylonians conquered Jerusalem, destroyed the Temple, and exiled much of the population. This exile became one of the defining moments in Jewish history. Removed from their homeland and surrounded by foreign cultures, Jewish communities were forced to reformulate their identity, traditions, and relationship with God.

    Roughly fifty years later, the Persian king Cyrus the Great conquered Babylon and allowed many Jewish exiles to return home and rebuild the Temple. This began the Second Temple Period, which lasted until the destruction of the Second Temple by the Romans in 70 CE.

    It was during this period that apocalyptic thinking emerged and flourished. Many scholars believe that some of its key features were influenced by contact with Persian religious ideas, particularly Zoroastrianism. Concepts such as cosmic conflict between good and evil, angels and demons, a final judgment, and the resurrection of the dead became increasingly important within Jewish thought.

    These ideas gained additional force during subsequent periods of foreign domination. After the Persians came the Greeks under Alexander the Great, followed by the Romans. As Jewish communities struggled with foreign rule, cultural pressures, and political instability, apocalyptic expectations intensified. Many people came to believe that they were living in the final age of history and that God would soon intervene to establish a new and just order.

    By the first century CE, this apocalyptic worldview had become widespread. It shaped popular expectations, inspired revolutionary movements, and formed the cultural backdrop of Jesus’s ministry. To understand Jesus, early Christianity, and later ideas about the end times, we must first understand this apocalyptic imagination.

    Core Ideas of Apocalypticism

    The Book of Revelation in the Christian New Testament, also known as the Apocalypse of John, is probably the best-known example of apocalyptic literature. As anyone who has ever tried to read it knows, it’s packed full of strange symbols and imagery, and the writing doesn’t quite follow the normal linear path we’re accustomed to with modern literature. While it certainly stands out from the rest of the New Testament, the Book of Revelation was just one of many similarly written texts from the period. 

    One of the defining features of apocalyptic literature is the revelation of heavenly secrets. These revelations typically occur through visions in which a celestial being, often an angel, guides the narrator through the heavens or unveils future events. Through these experiences, hidden truths about God, history, and the structure of reality are revealed.

    The Book of Enoch is one of the best-known examples of this type of literature. Highly influential during the time of Jesus, it illustrates many of the core features of Jewish apocalyptic thought. In Enoch’s visions, the archangel Uriel reveals numerous mysteries: the fall of rebellious angels, the reasons behind the flood, the movements of the heavenly bodies, and future events that will shape human history.

    Importantly, these texts were not focused solely on end-times destruction. While they often contain visions of judgment and catastrophe, these events are only one part of a much larger revelation. The central concern is understanding the hidden structure of reality, God’s purposes in history, and humanity’s place within that story. Reducing apocalyptic literature to just its destructive elements leaves a tremendous amount of meaning by the wayside.

    Another important feature of apocalyptic thought is dualism. By this, I mean the belief that opposing forces of good and evil are actively at work in the world. The forces of good are aligned with God, while the forces of evil are associated with Satan or other hostile spiritual powers. Human beings are caught within this larger cosmic struggle and must decide where their loyalties lie.

    This dualism also had a historical dimension. Ancient Jewish apocalypticists believed they were living in “this age,” a period dominated by injustice, suffering, and evil. Yet they also believed that God would soon intervene in history, overthrow those forces, and inaugurate “the age to come.” This future age would be a renewed creation in which harmony between God, humanity, and the world would be restored.

    This expectation often involved a dramatic social reversal. The powerful would be humbled, the oppressed vindicated, and justice finally established. The destructive aspects of apocalyptic thought emerge from this expectation, but destruction was never viewed as an end in itself. Rather, it was part of a larger process of renewal. If a new structure is to be built where an old one stands, the old structure must first be removed.

    Another central feature of Jewish apocalypticism was the general resurrection of the dead. Ancient Jews did not typically view human beings as immortal souls temporarily inhabiting physical bodies. Instead, a person was understood as a unified whole instead of a body and soul that could be separated from one another. For this reason, their hope was not for a disembodied existence in heaven, but for a future bodily resurrection on Earth.

    Equally important was the belief that this resurrection would be collective. Rather than individuals being judged immediately upon death, the dead would be raised together at the end of the age. At that time, God’s judgment would occur. The righteous would enter the renewed Kingdom of God on Earth, while the wicked would be removed from the new creation.

    This differs significantly from what many modern Christians believe today. In the popular understanding, individuals are judged immediately after death, with the righteous going to Heaven and the unrighteous to Hell. By contrast, the earliest Jewish and Christian apocalyptic expectations centered on the establishment of God’s kingdom on a renewed Earth.

    Conclusion

    So what does all of this mean for us today? One way to think about it is that there are now three very different understandings of what the word apocalypse means.

    For ancient Jews, apocalypse was not primarily about the destruction of the world. Destruction was certainly part of the story, but it was only one part of a larger process of transformation. God would intervene in history, evil would be defeated, the dead would be raised, and a renewed world–the Kingdom of God on Earth–would emerge. The focus was ultimately hopeful. The destruction cleared the way for something better.

    Many modern Christians still retain elements of this older framework, although it has become much more complex over the centuries. Depending on the denomination, there may be a Rapture, a period of tribulation, the return of Jesus, a thousand-year reign, a final battle between good and evil, and then a final judgment. Yet despite the differences, the basic structure remains similar: the present age ends, God intervenes, and a renewed creation emerges in which the faithful live in God’s presence.

    The modern secular understanding is quite different. Here, apocalypse usually means catastrophe without redemption. A nuclear war, climate collapse, zombie outbreak, rogue artificial intelligence, asteroid impact, or some other disaster devastates civilization. The focus is rarely on renewal or transformation. Instead, it is on survival in a world that has become much worse than before. This is the version of apocalypse that dominates modern movies, television shows, and novels.

    And this difference matters. When most people hear the word apocalypse today, they think of destruction. But for ancient Jewish apocalypticists, destruction was never the whole story. Apocalypse was fundamentally about revelation, about hidden truths being unveiled and history moving toward transformation. The catastrophe was only one chapter in a much larger narrative.

    In many ways, I think this older understanding has something important to teach us. We live in an age filled with apocalyptic anxiety. We worry about climate change, artificial intelligence, nuclear war, pandemics, and political instability. These fears are real, and they deserve to be taken seriously. But if we focus only on catastrophe, we risk becoming trapped by it.

    The ancient apocalyptic imagination reminds us to ask a different question: not simply what might end, but what might come after. What kind of future are we trying to build, and what role do we play in shaping it?

    That, ultimately, is the question at the heart of my work, research, and writing.

    Cover image is the Flammarion Engraving by an unknown artist, 1888. Source image found here.

    This essay is part 1 of a three-part series that deals with apocalyptic thought and its influence on modern society. You can read the other essays from the links below:

    Part 2 – Who Was The Historical Jesus

    Part 3 – Is The Rapture Actually In The Bible?

    This essay develops themes explored more fully in my recently published book, The Last Apocalypse: Consciousness, Revelation, and the Future of Humanity.

    Buy my book here

  • What Can We Do About Apocalyptic Anxiety?

    In a previous essay, we examined why it feels like the world is coming to an end. The central point was that while there are serious issues we must confront, we still have time to act.

    Part of the reason I approach apocalyptic anxiety the way I do comes from my work in construction. I’m a foreman for a construction company with seven other employes, we specialize in the renovation of historic commercial spaces. Each project entails its own unique challenges, both big and small. For example, in the project I’m working on right now, there is a structural wall that runs down the middle of a two-story building. We realized that the wall had become unsound over the years and we needed to replace it.

    This was an issue. It wasn’t a barrier. It was a challenge to overcome. That’s the way I have to look at every issue that comes up in a project.

    That’s why I approach the issue of apocalyptic anxiety the way in which I do. I feel it is a subject that many people do not want to address, so sometimes I feel like I’m bringing up something that shouldn’t be brought up.

    But if we truly believe the stakes are this high, then the question isn’t whether others are comfortable talking about it. It’s not about if other people are taking action. It’s whether we are. When the possibility on the table is self-destruction, waiting for broad awareness is a risk we can’t afford. At some point, individual recognition has to give way to action.

    This brings us to the question: What can we do about apocalyptic anxiety?

    My answer is relatively simple: we build a better future that is informed by what I call critical spirituality.

    Critical Spirituality

    We live in a world largely shaped by material concerns both at the surface level and at the level of our underlying worldview. The accumulation of things often drives our lives, and these things can come to define how we see ourselves and how others see us. At a deeper level, scientific thought plays a central role in shaping modern society. While enormously powerful, it is primarily concerned with the material world: the things that can be observed, measured, and tested.

    At the same time, fewer people in the developed world identify with organized religion. The result is a cultural environment in which there is often little room for spirituality. And yet, I believe that ancient wisdom traditions still have an important role to play. They offer insights into meaning, purpose, and human experience that can help us navigate the challenges of our time.

    We don’t have to accept these traditions uncritically. Instead, we can approach them with care and rigor. They are best understood by examining them in their historical and cultural contexts, and understanding how they developed and changed over time. Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Taoism, Buddhism, and many indigenous traditions all offer perspectives worth engaging.

    The goal is not to retreat from the modern world, but to develop our inner lives alongside it. We should cultivate depth, awareness, and a more complete understanding of what it means to be human. If we are to become the builders of a better future, if we are to avert potential catastrophe. then we need a solid foundation. Critical spirituality is an attempt to draw on deep traditions of wisdom while applying them thoughtfully to the realities we face today.

    Putting It into Practice

    Critical spirituality is not just a way of thinking, it is something that has to be lived. It takes shape at three interconnected levels: the individual, the community, and society as a whole.

    Individual
    It begins with our everyday actions: how we treat the people around us, how we respond to stress and uncertainty, and whether we choose compassion over reaction. Small choices matter. Cultivating awareness, patience, and empathy in daily life is the foundation of any meaningful change.

    Community
    From there, it extends into the communities of which we are part, such as our families, workplaces, and local networks. Critical spirituality calls us to engage more intentionally, to listen, to contribute, and to help create spaces where people can connect in more meaningful ways. Real change rarely happens in isolation; it grows through relationships.

    Societal
    At the broader level, these patterns can scale. Individual actions shape communities, and communities shape society. What begins as small, local efforts can grow into larger movements over time. While no single person can solve global problems alone, collective action, grounded in thoughtful and ethical engagement, can shift the direction of the systems we live within.

    Conclusion

    It can be difficult in our modern world to find time for reflection—for meditation, reading, contemplation, and taking a more active role in our communities. But this is what it will take to build a future that does not end in collapse. That future is not going to emerge on its own…it must be built through our everyday actions. This will require effort, intention, and a willingness to act even in small ways.

    In future essays, I will explore how, in the face of specific challenges such as AI, global instability, and climate change, spiritually informed action can help guide meaningful responses.