Recently, the Financial Times reported from Baldwin County, Georgia, on the views of ordinary five-eighth Americans on the current war in Iran. There was a to-be expected mix of voices for and against, some polarised on either side of the argument, others more nuanced in their language. The comments that really stood out to me were from a local Baptist pastor.
‘“Trump is trying to make sure we never have to do this again,” he [the pastor] says. “This is a war to end all future wars.” The conflict in Iran fulfils prophecies contained in the books of Ezekiel and Jeremiah, he continues. “I think it’s building up to the Second Coming of Christ.”
His wife says Iran’s nuclear ambition forced Trump to act. ‘If he waited any longer, they’d soon be shooting at us,” she says. “You need a leader who’s got the fortitude to do what’s necessary to keep us safe.”’
The couple’s views read like a mashup of Bring-on-Armageddon Christian zeal and MAGA nationalism. If you will excuse the pun, what goal trumps what goal: the fulfilment of prophecy, or making America safe?
But perhaps a more important observation is that this is by no means the first article I have read that has referenced some American evangelicals viewing the current conflict as a kind of Armageddon-accelerant, which begs the question, who – really – wants Armageddon? Who actually wants to see a huge final battle full of bloodshed, destruction, and loss of human life? Who gets excited over the prospect of suffering on such an epic scale?
It seems a strange kind of mindset, and one perhaps shaped by the security of knowing that with the Pacific Ocean on one side and the Atlantic Ocean on the other, Armageddon will not come to our shores. It is a Middle East thing that happens to other people – bad people – who are not actually like us anyway. Is the Second Coming about watching cable TV to see my nation’s adversaries have bombs dropped on them, while I await the good bit at the end where Jesus comes through the clouds to bring me and people like me home to him? Would I want Armageddon if it involved my country ‘putting boots on the ground’?
At this point, two confessions are necessary, neither of which show me in a good light. The first is that I must admit that end-times theology and Armageddon and pre-millennial and post-millennial has always been a gap in my Christian knowledge. That’s partly because of conversations I’ve had with people over the years who come across as unhealthily preoccupied with these subjects, who sometimes give-off a slight conspiracy-theorist-cum-theologian-vibe, but who I also have to recognise have thought and read and know – or seem to know – a lot more about the subject than I do.
But then I find myself wondering why I’d invest so much time in reading into a subject where I can’t influence the outcome or make any difference anyway, and I also wonder if some of these experts’ Christian lives might be healthier if they spent less time thinking about Armageddon and more time thinking about grace, justice, mercy and personal forgiveness.
My first confession does not flatter me, and my second shows me up in a much poorer light. It speaks ill of my depth of Christian faith that I rarely if ever think about the second coming of Christ and only very occasionally do I pray… ‘Come, Lord Jesus.’ And the reason for that is quite simple: I am too comfortable and complacent. I am a first-world person living in the year 2026, with my mortgage cleared, and no impediments at all to the liberty with which I practice my Christian faith.
And what’s even more unflattering than that paragraph above, is what my seldom-uttered ‘Come Lord Jesus’ prayers say about my level of solidarity with the suffering of my marginalised and persecuted brothers and sisters in Christ in many parts of the global church, many of whom have cause for a deep, aching longing to see our Saviour come again.
But returning to my first confession, I’ve always been sceptical of the confidence with which some evangelicals make pronouncements about how the last days will play out, given that as Jesus himself said, ‘about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.’
On the one hand, there will be wars and rumours of wars, nations and kingdoms rising against one another, and famine and earthquakes, alongside many false prophets and great persecution of the followers of Christ. But there will also be eating and drinking, marrying, and giving in marriage, just as in the days leading up to Noah entering the ark.
A healthy attitude – it seems to me – is one of less speculation and more intercession. What I should be wanting to understand is why so many people less fortunate than me might pray ‘Come Lord Jesus’ and I should want to join my prayers with them.
But, looking at the parables that Jesus told in Matthew 25 after speaking of the end times – about the Ten Virgins and the Bags of Gold – I should also be resolving to be more committed and vigilant in my Christian life, investing my time and spiritual gifts wisely to grow more for God than that which he has given me. That – rather than abstract theorising that strangely relishes the suffering of others – should surely be our main priority in these times in which we find ourselves.
Colin Neill works in economic development and is a member of Craigavon Presbyterian Church and a PCI accredited Preacher.
Please note that the statements and views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of Contemporary Christianity.
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