Rescue from Apocalypse
Hope to Face a Fearful Future
Isaiah 51
I confess. Disaster movies thrill me. My passion ignited as a teenager with Irwin Allen’s The Poseidon Adventure and Towering Inferno. Apocalyptic stories fascinate me as an adult. I try to imagine how I would survive in The Walking Dead or The Last of Us. I do wonder why this dark genre appeals to me, and why its popularity spreads in current culture. Does it serve as a safety vent from psychological pressure or an instinctive fear of world collapse?
Dread for the Future
Beyond fiction, warning tremors of disaster appear in our headlines. A global pandemic, exponential AI advancement, building tensions toward World War III, intensifying political controversy, endless conspiracy theories—each a plotline for world-ending devastation. Dread clings to us like a foul odor.
I find it increasingly hard to maintain a hopeful view of the immediate future. It’s difficult to ignore the swelling tidal wave of events casting shadows that loom over our heads. As I turn on the news each morning, I brace for what I might hear. I wonder how to prepare my children for a world so different than the one I navigated at their age. I struggle not to let fear dominate my outlook. Instead, I want pragmatic strategies. I want a reliable source to depend upon that transcends the headlines. I want to zoom out my perspective to a bigger picture and find secure footing.
Turning to the Bible narrative affirms humanity’s anticipation of global calamity. From flood to fire, catastrophes erupt throughout the Story spiraling the earth’s inhabitants toward destruction. In one instance, the prophet Isaiah repeats the dire prediction he hears from God: “…the heavens will vanish like smoke, the earth will wear out like a garment, and its inhabitants will die like gnats.” His blockbuster description chills the soul.
The Rescue Plan
God cares enough to deliver it straight. He answers humanity’s repeating chorus of “why?” echoing in the mounting mess around us. He tells the truth about the effects of choosing to do things our own way. We didn’t shape the planet or form our own bodies; rejecting the owner’s manual creates a chain reaction of crash and burn. He wants us properly informed—without spin or soft-selling.
“The ship may sink, and the skyscraper may burn, but they do not determine the final scene for those who grab the Rescuer’s hand.”
God doesn’t leave us cowering under the prediction of doom. He offers comfort for both the shocking news and the foreboding we carry in our DNA. God reveals the bigger picture and most important message through Isaiah’s next words: “But my salvation will last forever, and my righteousness will never be shattered.” With Fatherly tenderness, he invites us to enter the safety of his salvation and goodness. The ship may sink, and the skyscraper may burn, but they do not determine the final scene for those who grab the Rescuer’s hand. According to God’s promise, the utopia we long for and have failed to achieve will rise from the ashes.
How then do we live in the shadow of these coming events as wisps of sulfur seep into our thoughts? We accept God’s rescue invitation through Jesus and affix our souls and minds to God’s future. During the unraveling, we persevere in a secure hope—we are neither alone nor unguided. We anticipate the victorious finale of the Story and our place within it. We share the truth of how events today reveal our choices for tomorrow. And instead of allowing dread to take top billing, we usher it backstage. We make way for the main attraction: the message of grace and the promise of salvation.
What hope do you rest your future upon?
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