Tag: Social Change

  • 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

  • Is the Rapture Actually in the Bible?

    If you have spent any time in or around modern Christianity, especially in the United States, you have probably heard of the Rapture. According to this belief, Christians will suddenly be taken by Jesus from the Earth and carried up to Heaven. For most people who hold to Rapture theology, this event will occur before a period of tribulation and, ultimately, the end of the world. While this idea is extremely popular among many evangelical Christians today, it is a relatively modern doctrine. And as we will see in this essay, the Rapture, as it is commonly understood, is not actually taught in the Bible.

    To explore this claim, we need to go back to the world in which Jesus lived and taught. We discussed the apocalyptic worldview of Second Temple Judaism in the first essay in this series and the historical Jesus in the second. As a quick refresher, apocalypticism was centered on a genre of literature and storytelling in which a human narrator is taken up to heaven or receives a vision. Then usually an angelic being reveals the secrets of heaven and God’s plan for humanity to the narrator. These revelations often included a cosmic struggle between good and evil, the destruction of the current corrupt world order, and the establishment of God’s Kingdom on Earth.

    While there were many variations within this worldview, one of the most popular themes was the restoration of the Davidic kingdom through a messiah from the line of David who would rule Judea as God’s representative on a renewed Earth. Another important feature was the expectation of a general resurrection of the dead. In this vision of the future, the righteous would remain and inherit God’s Kingdom, while the unrighteous would be destroyed. This did not involve eternal torture. Rather, many Jews of this period appear to have held what we would today call an annihilationist view, in which the unrighteous are consumed by fire and cease to exist.

    When we look at Jesus, we see him speaking directly within this framework, in a way that was very much in line with Jewish apocalyptic expectations of the day. For him the Kingdom of God was imminent, and he and his disciples had a definite role in it. This would take place on Earth, rather than Heaven.

    But once Jesus was executed, this changed everything. With his death and ascension, Jesus is not on Earth to fulfill the role of the Messiah, he is in Heaven. So he has to come back. This is where the idea for the Second Coming originates, and it is from this impending event that Rapture theology is based.

    With this background, we can evaluate whether the modern doctrine of the Rapture is actually found in the New Testament.

    1 Thessalonians 4 and the Meaning of Apantēsis

    One of the key passages used to support the doctrine of the Rapture is 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18. In this passage, Paul describes what he believes will happen when Jesus returns. He writes that believers will be “caught up” to meet the Lord in the air. The Greek word translated as “caught up” is harpazō. When the New Testament was later translated into Latin, harpazō was rendered as rapiemur, from which the English word “rapture” ultimately derives.

    Yet the most important phrase in the passage may not be “caught up” at all, but rather the verb “to meet.” The Greek word used here is apantēsis. Many scholars note that this was often used as a technical term to describe the custom of a city’s inhabitants going out to greet an arriving king, dignitary, or honored guest and then escorting that person back into the city.

    We see this word elsewhere in the New Testament. In the parable of the ten virgins, people go out to meet the bridegroom. In Acts, believers travel out to meet Paul and accompany him on his journey. The image is not one of people leaving permanently for another destination. Instead, it is a picture of people going out to welcome a returning figure and then accompanying him as he arrives.

    The same observation applies to the word “air.” The Greek word used is aēr, which refers to the lower atmosphere. Paul does not use the more common Greek word ouranos (”heaven”) in this passage. Likewise, the reference to “the clouds” (nephelais) is consistent with this event happening in the Earth’s atmosphere. In fact, there is no point in this passage where believers are taken away to heaven permanently.

    The Days of Noah

    Another passage often cited in support of the Rapture is Matthew 24:40-41, where Jesus says:

    “Then shall two be in the field; the one shall be taken, and the other left. Two women shall be grinding at the mill; the one shall be taken, and the other left.”

    At first glance, many readers assume that the person who is “taken” is one of those being taken up to Heaven. However, it is important to look at the verses immediately preceding this passage, because they provide the context for what Jesus is describing:

    “But as the days of Noah were, so shall also the coming of the Son of man be. For as in the days that were before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day that Noah entered into the ark, And knew not until the flood came, and took them all away; so shall also the coming of the Son of man be.” (Matthew 24:37-39)

    The crucial question is: Who was taken away in the story of Noah? It was not Noah and his family. They were the ones who remained. The people who were “taken away” were the unrighteous who perished in the flood. If Jesus is using the days of Noah as the model for understanding his return, then the passage points in the opposite direction from modern Rapture theology. The righteous remain, while the unrighteous are removed in judgment.

    This interpretation becomes even stronger when we examine other parables Jesus uses to describe the coming Kingdom of God.

    The Wheat and the Tares

    We can see this same pattern in the Parable of the Wheat and the Weeds (or Tares), found in Matthew 13. In the parable, a farmer sows good seed in his field, but an enemy secretly plants weeds among the wheat. When the servants ask whether they should remove the weeds immediately, the farmer tells them to wait until the harvest. At that point, he says:

    “Gather ye together first the tares, and bind them in bundles to burn them: but gather the wheat into my barn.”

    This order is important. The weeds are removed first, while the wheat remains. If there were any doubt about the meaning of the parable, Jesus later explains it directly to his disciples. The field represents the world, the wheat represents the righteous, and the weeds represent the wicked. At the end of the age, Jesus says that the angels will first gather out of the Kingdom “all things that offend, and them which do iniquity.” Only after the wicked have been removed does “the righteous shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father.”

    Once again, the pattern is the same as in the story of Noah. The unrighteous are removed in judgment, while the righteous remain to inherit the Kingdom. This is the opposite of what we would expect if Jesus were teaching the idea of a Rapture in which believers are taken away from the Earth before judgment occurs.

    Where Did the Rapture Concept Originate?

    So where does the rapture idea come from? Surprisingly, it’s not ancient at all. It doesn’t appear in early Christianity. It doesn’t appear in medieval theology. Church fathers like Irenaeus and Augustine never describe anything like it.

    Instead, the idea emerged in the early 1800s. It is most closely associated with John Nelson Darby, an Irish clergyman. In the 1830s, Darby began developing a new system of interpreting biblical prophecy, including the idea of a pre-tribulation rapture. These ideas are what came to be known as dispensationalism.

    During Darby’s life, this particular theological framework was not very widespread. But that changed in 1909 with the publication of the Scofield Reference Bible, which popularized Darby’s ideas. They gained a wide audience through the 1910s and 1920s, especially in the United States.

    From there, the idea spread further through books, preaching, and eventually popular culture. In the late 20th century, works like Hal Lindsey’s The Late Great Planet Earth (1970) and the Left Behind series (1995-2004) brought the Rapture into mainstream awareness. So, what many people today assume is a core Christian belief is, historically speaking, a relatively recent development. But it is a very popular concept in the US, especially among fundamentalist Christians across many Protestant denominations

    Why This Matters

    The reason the modern doctrine of the Rapture deserves careful critique is that it can shift attention away from the responsibilities we have in this world. It can diminish the urgency of Jesus’ message to begin living as if the Kingdom of God were already breaking into the world. At its heart, this is a choice between participating in the work of renewal here and now or expecting to be rescued from the world.

    It is in what I believe to be Jesus’ authentic message that I find hope for our own age. Act now to help create the future we want. Take care of disadvantaged children now. Care for the elderly now. Stand beside those who have been harmed by unjust systems now. Lift up the people around you now. The Kingdom is not built through passive expectation but through the countless everyday choices that shape our communities.

    Many scholars argue that Jesus, as an apocalyptic prophet, was a failed one. The end of the age he expected did not unfold in the way he anticipated. But perhaps the more important question is not whether Jesus failed but whether we did. He gave us a blueprint for a different kind of world with communities grounded in compassion, justice, forgiveness, and care for the vulnerable. Yet for much of the last two thousand years, many Christians have placed greater emphasis on waiting for Christ’s return than on embodying the Kingdom he proclaimed.

    I consider myself a follower of Jesus rather than a Christian in the modern denominational sense. I see Jesus as someone uniquely attuned to what I call the universal consciousness, or the Elohim (see my book for an explanation). He looked at a world marked by injustice, corrupt power, and impending catastrophe. He interpreted those realities through the language of Second Temple Jewish apocalypticism.

    But the lasting significance of his message is not found in the timetable of the end. It is found in his response which was to begin building the Kingdom now. It is within us, it is among us, and it is a task that belongs to every generation. If there is one lesson we should carry forward from Jesus’ apocalyptic message, it is this: don’t wait for a better world or to be rescued from this one. Start building the future you want now.


    Cover image is The Last Judgement by Jean Cousin. Source image found here.


    This essay is part 3 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 2: Who Was the Historical Jesus


    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

  • Building the Future Now: Confronting Our Greatest Challenges

    In the previous three essays, I have been laying out a path for addressing the major challenges of our time. That path begins at the individual level, with the work of developing ourselves spiritually, emotionally, and ethically. From there, it extends outward into our closest relationships, our communities, our workplaces, our institutions, and ultimately society as a whole.

    The emphasis on individual transformation was never meant to imply that our problems are merely personal. Rather, it reflects the belief that large-scale change begins with the people who participate in and shape the systems around them. If we hope to address the immense social, political, economic, and environmental challenges before us, we need individuals who are capable of acting with wisdom, maturity, compassion, and clarity. Because the reality is that we currently face a number of profound challenges, and how we respond to them over the coming decades will determine the course of human history.

    Thanks for reading A Path Through the Apocalypse! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

    The Major Challenges of Our Time

    AI, Work, and Human Purpose

    One of the major challenges humanity may face in the coming decades is the potential for AI-driven unemployment. We are already beginning to see signs of job displacement, particularly in white-collar and entry-level positions. For instance, in the legal profession AI is increasingly performing routine research, document review, and form preparation. A similar pattern is emerging in software development, where AI tools are reducing demand for junior developers while making experienced programmers significantly more productive.

    Other fields are experiencing similar pressures. Translation work, copywriting, customer service, data entry, administrative support, and basic graphic design have all been affected by the growing ability of AI systems to perform tasks that once required human labor. In many cases, the jobs are not disappearing entirely, but fewer workers are needed to produce the same output. A marketing department that once required ten people may now require five. A customer service team of one hundred may be reduced to forty.

    AI may ultimately eliminate a large percentage of existing human jobs, potentially on a scale unprecedented in human history. The deeper issue is not whether AI will eliminate all jobs, but whether society can adapt to a future in which technological progress continuously reduces the amount of human labor required to create goods, services, and information. If productivity continues to rise while employment opportunities shrink, we may be forced to rethink how wealth, opportunity, and purpose are distributed within society.

    A background concern to all of this is wealth inequality. If AI dramatically increases productivity while reducing the need for human labor, who benefits? One possible future is one in which the owners of AI systems–the shareholders, founders, and executives of a relatively small number of companies–capture a disproportionate share of the wealth created. A second group might consist of highly skilled workers who use AI to enhance their productivity to levels we can scarcely imagine today. But where does that leave everyone else?

    This question is particularly important because we already live in a period of severe wealth inequality. Across much of the world, wealth and economic power have become increasingly concentrated in the hands of a small minority. This is already a destabilizing force. If large numbers of people were to find themselves without meaningful employment, reliable income, or a sense of purpose, the social consequences could be profound.

    One of the most commonly proposed solutions is a Universal Basic Income (UBI), in which every person receives a guaranteed income regardless of employment status. UBI may ultimately become necessary in some form, but it raises important questions of its own.

    Who controls the flow of resources? Who determines the amount people receive? Is it enough merely to survive, or enough to live a meaningful and fulfilling life? Does it allow people to travel, pursue education, spend time with family and friends, create art, volunteer in their communities, and explore new possibilities? Or does it simply provide a minimal subsistence while economic and political power become increasingly concentrated elsewhere?

    There is also a deeper question. A society in which most people depend upon a small group of institutions for their livelihood requires a tremendous degree of trust. What happens if political priorities change? What happens if economic crises occur? What happens if those who control the resources come to view the broader population not as fellow citizens, but as dependents, burdens, or obstacles? We already see this sort of ideology right now when it comes to poor and vulnerable communities in our current economy.

    These questions do not mean that UBI is a bad idea. They simply illustrate that income alone may not solve the deeper challenges posed by a future in which human labor is no longer central to economic production. The issue is not only how wealth is distributed, but how power, dignity, purpose, and democratic participation are preserved in an age of intelligent machines. These are profound questions, and I am not sure we are currently prepared to address them with the wisdom and maturity they require.

    AI, Energy, and Environmental Sustainability

    Another immediate concern surrounding AI is its growing demand for energy and water. The data centers that power modern AI systems require enormous amounts of electricity. Large AI data centers can consume as much power as a small city, placing increasing strain on electrical grids that are still largely powered by fossil fuels such as coal and natural gas. As AI development accelerates, so too will the demand for computing power, and with it the demand for energy.

    This raises obvious environmental concerns. If the electricity powering these facilities continues to come primarily from fossil fuels, increased AI adoption could contribute to higher greenhouse gas emissions at precisely the moment when many scientists argue emissions need to be rapidly reduced.

    Water consumption is another issue that receives far less public attention. Data centers generate tremendous amounts of heat and require extensive cooling systems. Many facilities use hundreds of thousands of gallons of water per day, while some of the largest consume millions. Much of this water is lost through evaporation during the cooling process, while the remainder often becomes wastewater that must be treated before being discharged back into the environment.

    These demands place additional pressure on local infrastructure. Supplying large volumes of water to data centers and managing the resulting wastewater can strain municipal systems, particularly in regions already facing water scarcity or aging infrastructure. As AI becomes more deeply integrated into society, questions surrounding energy use, water consumption, environmental sustainability, and environmental justice will become increasingly difficult to ignore.

    There is another aspect of this issue worth considering. Public conversations about climate change have often been shaped by powerful economic interests. Industries whose profits may be affected by environmental regulations have frequently sought to influence public opinion, political decision-making, and the flow of information. This does not mean that every argument made by these industries is wrong, but it does remind us that economic interests often play a significant role in shaping public debate.

    As AI becomes increasingly important to the global economy, the corporations that develop and control these technologies will likely acquire similar influence. They will have strong incentives to shape public policy, public perception, and regulatory frameworks in ways that benefit their interests. Whether the issue is energy consumption, data privacy, labor displacement, environmental impacts, or market competition, we should expect powerful actors to advocate for outcomes that align with their economic goals.

    For this reason, one of the most important skills citizens can develop is the ability to critically evaluate information. We need to become better at distinguishing evidence from propaganda, and at recognizing the interests and incentives that often lie behind public narratives. In an age of increasingly powerful technologies and increasingly sophisticated forms of persuasion, critical thinking is not merely an intellectual virtue, it is also a civic necessity.

    From Climate Change to Global Instability

    These environmental concerns feed directly into broader concerns about climate change. At this point, the central question is no longer whether climate change is occurring, but rather how severe its effects will become and how effectively humanity can adapt to or mitigate them.

    Scientists project a wide range of impacts, including rising temperatures, more frequent and intense heat waves, changing precipitation patterns, increased drought in some regions, heavier flooding in others, sea-level rise, and growing pressure on ecosystems. These changes may place increasing stress on agriculture, water supplies, infrastructure, and public health.

    Climate change may also increase the spread of certain diseases by expanding the range of disease-carrying insects and placing additional strain on health systems. As some regions become more difficult to inhabit due to extreme heat, drought, crop failures, or rising seas, large-scale migration may occur, particularly from equatorial regions and parts of the Global South. Such movements could place additional pressures on receiving countries and contribute to political and social tensions.

    Food security is another concern. Modern civilization depends upon complex and highly interconnected global supply chains. Climate-related disruptions to agriculture, transportation networks, energy systems, or critical infrastructure can create cascading effects that extend far beyond the regions directly affected. Shortages in one area may ripple across continents through trade, markets, and supply networks.

    The result may be increasing societal instability and growing challenges to the resilience of the global system itself. Climate change is therefore not simply an environmental issue. It is also an economic issue, a public health issue, a migration issue, and ultimately a question of political and social stability.

    Political Polarization and Social Fragmentation

    Large-scale migration, economic disruption, rising living costs, resource scarcity, and declining trust in institutions can all place stress on political systems. We are already seeing some of these dynamics emerge in various parts of the world. For example, migration into Europe from Africa and the Middle East has become a major political issue and has contributed to the growth of nationalist and far-right movements in some countries.

    Economic insecurity can produce different political responses. Some people may be drawn toward more collectivist or redistributive economic models, while others may support nationalist, populist, or authoritarian movements that promise stability and order. The specific ideological response often varies from one society to another, but the underlying pattern is similar: periods of uncertainty tend to create fertile ground for political polarization.

    This process can lead to increased conflict and fragmentation within nation-states. Political opponents increasingly come to view one another not simply as people with different opinions, but as existential threats. Compromise becomes more difficult, trust erodes, and institutions come under increasing strain.

    Tribalism plays an important role in this process. As we have discussed elsewhere in this series, human beings have a strong tendency to divide themselves into competing groups. During periods of relative stability, these divisions can often be managed. During periods of crisis, however, tribal identities frequently become stronger and more antagonistic. In such environments, fear and uncertainty can accelerate social fragmentation, making collective action on shared problems increasingly difficult.

    This dynamic also helps explain the rise of apocalyptic thinking. When people perceive that the institutions around them are failing, that their way of life is under threat, or that society itself is becoming unstable, they often begin to imagine the future in catastrophic terms.

    Global Instability, Arms Races, and the Future of War

    Taken together, these trends suggest that we may be moving away from the post-Cold War vision of a rules-based international order and toward a more fragmented world characterized by great-power competition, nationalism, oligarchic concentrations of wealth, and the growing appeal of authoritarian political models. Whether this transition is temporary or long-lasting remains to be seen, but it has become a source of increasing concern for many observers.

    The same insecurities that can drive conflict between individuals can also emerge at the level of nations. Fear, status anxiety, competition for resources, historical grievances, and the desire for recognition do not disappear when human beings act collectively. Instead, they can become embedded within national identities and expressed through diplomacy, economic competition, and, in some cases, military conflict.

    Recent wars have also demonstrated that the nature of warfare is changing. The conflict in Ukraine has revealed the growing importance of drones, autonomous systems, cyber operations, and AI-assisted decision-making. Technologies that were once available only to major powers are becoming increasingly accessible, allowing smaller actors to challenge larger and more technologically advanced opponents through multiple forms of asymmetric warfare.

    At the same time, geopolitical tensions remain high in several regions of the world. Rivalries among major powers, conflicts in the Middle East, disputes over territory and resources, and the continued existence of nuclear arsenals all contribute to an environment of uncertainty. While no one can predict the future, the possibility of escalation remains a persistent concern.

    Most public attention tends to focus on the threat of nuclear war, and for good reason. Yet another emerging concern is the weaponization of artificial intelligence. As AI becomes increasingly integrated into military systems, difficult ethical and strategic questions arise. How much decision-making should be delegated to machines? What happens when autonomous systems make mistakes? And how do nations prevent an arms race in increasingly intelligent and autonomous weapons?

    These questions point to a broader challenge. Humanity’s technological capabilities are advancing rapidly, but it is far less clear that our political institutions, ethical frameworks, and systems of international cooperation are keeping pace.

    From Anxiety to Action

    If the challenges outlined above are real, then addressing them will require changes that go far beyond any single policy proposal. The problems themselves are interconnected, and so must be the solutions.

    A starting point is the growing polarization that characterizes much of public life. We need to become better at evaluating information, distinguishing fact from manipulation, and engaging with people who hold different views. Yet even this is not enough. Throughout this series of essays, I have emphasized the importance of personal growth and what I call critical spirituality. If we are not acting from a place of stability, maturity, self-awareness, and wisdom, then we have little hope of addressing the immense challenges before us.

    There are powerful forces driving many of the trends discussed in this essay. Economic interests, political incentives, media systems, and technological momentum all shape the world around us. It is unlikely that these forces can simply be argued away. In my experience, argument alone rarely changes people. The more effective path is to build something betters that people can see, experience, and participate in for themselves.

    Yet before we can build healthier institutions, we must cultivate the qualities that make them possible. No political system, economic model, or technological solution can substitute for wisdom, compassion, self-awareness, and a genuine concern for the well-being of others. The crises we face are not merely technical problems requiring technical solutions. They are also human problems, rooted in fear, greed, tribalism, and our tendency to prioritize short-term interests over long-term flourishing. If we fail to address these deeper dimensions of human life, we may find ourselves recreating the same problems under new names and within new systems.

    For this reason, I believe that strong communities will be essential in the decades ahead. We need institutions that foster cooperation rather than isolation, mutual aid rather than indifference, and shared purpose rather than endless competition. We need ways of connecting people that are deeper and more meaningful than the forces pulling them apart.

    The challenge posed by AI illustrates this clearly. If automation reduces the need for human labor, then we will need new ways of distributing the wealth generated by increasingly productive technologies. Proposals such as Universal Basic Income, taxes on AI-generated productivity, public ownership stakes in AI companies, or other forms of social wealth-sharing deserve serious consideration. At the same time, we should not lose sight of the value of human craftsmanship, creativity, care, and community. Not everything of value can or should be automated.

    I am also drawn to more localized and cooperative economic models. Worker cooperatives, community-owned enterprises, mutual aid networks, and other democratic forms of economic organization may provide ways of distributing both power and opportunity more broadly. Such approaches will not solve every problem, but they may help create a society in which technological progress benefits everyone rather than a small number of owners.

    These same principles may also help address some of the broader challenges discussed throughout this essay. Strong local communities are often more resilient during periods of disruption. Whether the challenge comes in the form of climate-related disasters, economic shocks, supply-chain disruptions, pandemics, or large-scale migration, communities with strong social ties and local institutions are generally better equipped to adapt. Cooperative enterprises and mutual aid networks can provide support when larger systems become strained, while localized economies may be less vulnerable to disruptions occurring thousands of miles away.

    This does not mean abandoning global cooperation or retreating into isolated localism. Many of the challenges we face, particularly climate change, require coordinated action at national and international levels. Yet resilient local communities can serve as an important foundation upon which broader solutions are built. In an increasingly uncertain world, social cohesion may prove just as important as technological innovation.

    None of this will be easy. Many of these ideas challenge deeply entrenched interests and assumptions. Entire industries are devoted to promoting particular economic and political worldviews. Significant change will require not only new policies, but also a shift in how we think about wealth, work, success, and our obligations to one another.

    Ultimately, the solution to apocalyptic anxiety is not withdrawal, despair, or waiting for someone else to save us. It is the difficult but necessary work of building healthier people, stronger communities, and more humane institutions. If we are entering a period of profound transformation, then the task before us is not merely to survive it, but to help shape what comes next. The future is not something that simply happens to us. It is something we create together, one decision, one relationship, and one community at a time.


    This is part 4 of a four part series on dealing with apocalyptic anxiety. You can find the other parts below:

    Part 1 – Our Fear of AI is Really Fear of Ourselves

    Part 2 – Developing Our Inner Selves: The First Bulwark Against AI Catastrophe

    Part 3 – Putting Critical Spirituality to Work in the World


    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

  • Putting Critical Spirituality to Work in the World

    Introduction

    In the last essay, we explored developing our inner selves as the first bulwark against AI disruption. But inner work alone is not enough. We must put that into action in the world around us–in our relationships, our communities, our institutions, and society as a whole. Our everyday actions and behaviors do not remain isolated. Instead, they accumulate socially and help shape the larger systems of which we are part.

    By rebuilding our communities and strengthening our social fabric, by being involved in the lives of the less fortunate, and by working to address the issues that concern us most, we begin laying the foundation to confront the larger challenges ahead.

    Right now, society is too fractured, divided, distracted, and saturated with misinformation to effectively respond to issues such as environmental degradation, the enormous energy and water demands of AI infrastructure, the threat of mass unemployment, climate change, nuclear escalation, or future pandemics. We cannot meaningfully address these problems without stronger human relationships and healthier communities.

    And if we truly believe that some combination of these threats could place humanity itself at risk, then we should act accordingly.  It is not a question of who is going to go first. If you were in a house that was on fire, you would not stand still waiting to see whether others noticed the flames before deciding to move. You would sound the alarm and begin helping people toward safety. In much the same way, if we genuinely believe our civilization faces profound dangers, then our responsibility is to begin acting now regardless of what others are doing. And perhaps, by acting, speaking, organizing, and building differently, we may encourage others to do the same.

    (Re)Building Community

    In modern society, many of the social bonds that once held communities together have steadily eroded, especially over the last half century. As we work to build healthier communities, we are also rebuilding many of the things people increasingly feel are missing from modern life: trust, belonging, mutual support, resilience, shared meaning, and a greater sense of security and connection.

    One of the most important actions we can take is putting time and effort into our relationships with family and friends. This means being an active listener, showing up for important moments, being present for the good times and the bad. These actions may seem basic, but they form the foundation of strong social ties and deeply influence the people around us.

    Beyond our immediate relationships, there are many ways we can help rebuild the social fabric of our communities. This can include hosting dinners, organizing discussion groups or book clubs, sponsoring neighborhood events, mentoring young people, helping create cooperative enterprises, supporting local art and music scenes, or simply creating spaces where people can gather and genuinely connect with one another.

    Strong communities help reduce loneliness and alienation, foster accountability and mutual care, and weaken the insecurity and tribalism that increasingly dominate modern society. They create support networks that make people and communities more resilient during periods of disruption and instability. Ultimately, healthy communities form the foundation upon which stable and humane societies are built. It is worth the time and effort to get this part right.

    Caring for the Vulnerable

    Another way we can participate in building a better future is by helping lift up vulnerable people within our communities. This not only reconnects us with others–both the people being helped and those doing the helping–but also becomes a way of repairing some of the damage caused by an increasingly fragmented and unequal society. Many of the struggles people face today are deeply interconnected. Addiction, trauma, loneliness, family dysfunction, poverty, and mental illness often reinforce one another rather than existing in isolation.

    There are many different people who need care, support, and human connection: the elderly, the poor, the lonely, the imprisoned, the homeless, the addicted, the mentally ill, people with estranged families, struggling single parents, and many others.  These are people, often with difficult history and circumstances. Understanding and connecting with vulnerable people is important not only because it helps them, but because it helps restore the sense of shared humanity that our increasingly fragmented societies seems to have lost at times.

    This kind of work can take many forms: spending time with isolated elderly people, mentoring young people, supporting addiction recovery, helping struggling families, volunteering in prisons or shelters, or simply being present for people who feel abandoned and unseen. Importantly, this work does not only change the people being helped. It changes us as well. It deepens empathy, emotional awareness, humility, and our understanding of the interconnectedness of human suffering.

    If the future is increasingly shaped by technological systems, then the moral condition of the civilization building those systems matters enormously. A society that abandons vulnerable people, normalizes isolation, and treats human beings as disposable when they no longer fit neatly within the economic system may ultimately reproduce those same values within its institutions and technologies. But a society grounded in compassion, dignity, and mutual care may create something very different.

    Taking Meaningful Action

    One of the most important ways we can push back against helplessness and fragmentation is by directly involving ourselves in meaningful forms of social action. A positive aspect of getting involved is that it helps break us out of the disconnectedness of modern life. It pulls us away, at least in part, from the endless cycle of screens, algorithms, outrage, and passive consumption, and reconnects us with other people and the world around us. Instead of simply drifting anxiously into the future, we begin actively participating in shaping the kind of future we hope to see.

    There are many issues that need people willing to lend a hand: climate work, prison reform and prisoner outreach, food programs, addiction recovery, local organizing, youth mentoring, ecological restoration, elderly care, and the building of mutual aid networks, among many others. The important thing is not that everyone works on the same issue, but that people become engaged somewhere in meaningful ways.

    Many of us may not find deep purpose or fulfillment within our jobs alone, especially within an economic system that often leaves people feeling disconnected from meaningful forms of contribution. But outside of work, we still have the ability to direct our energy toward causes and communities that matter to us. In doing so, we not only help improve the world around us, but also begin reclaiming a sense of agency, connection, and shared responsibility that modern life increasingly erodes.

    Conclusion

    In this essay, I have focused on what we can do as individuals. This is not because I believe the full responsibility rests on ordinary people, but because this is how I have personally learned to deal with my own apocalyptic anxiety.  There needs to be larger systemic change, and ultimately the owners of AI need to be humanity as a whole instead of a few wealthy elites, corporations, and national governments. There ultimately needs to be larger systemic change, and I believe that increasingly powerful technologies like AI should ultimately be governed for the benefit of humanity as a whole rather than controlled by a small number of wealthy elites, corporations, or national governments. But meaningful systemic change rarely emerges out of nowhere. It requires groundwork. It requires relationships, trust, shared understanding, and communities capable of acting together.

    By rebuilding relationships and communities, we begin breaking through the individualistic shell that the digital age has increasingly placed around us. We create spaces where people can talk openly, think together, and resist the distorted and emotionally manipulative information environments created by modern media and social media algorithms. Strong communities make it easier to overcome misinformation, fear, tribalism, and isolation because they reconnect people through direct human relationships rather than purely digital ones.

    Rebuilding community also helps prepare us for some of the immediate disruptions that AI and other technological transformations may bring. Mass unemployment, for example, may eventually require large-scale wealth redistribution, forms of Universal Basic Income, stronger mutual aid systems, and more localized economies capable of supporting people outside mainstream economic structures. There are also major environmental concerns surrounding AI infrastructure itself, including enormous energy demands and water usage that are often pushed onto communities that are poorly equipped to resist exploitation or advocate for their own well-being.

    If we remain fractured, isolated, distracted, and emotionally disconnected from one another, addressing these challenges will become extraordinarily difficult. But if we can rebuild stronger communities grounded in trust, compassion, and shared responsibility, then we may still be capable of shaping a more humane future together.

    ____________________________________________

    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