I’m not a prophet, but the end of the world is here.
Tomorrow, May 21, 2011, is the day Jesus will come back according to Harold Camping, and the world will be destroyed five months later. Some have spent crazy amounts of money helping to spread the news so that no one gets left behind.
Most people familiar with the Bible know there is a verse in which Jesus states that no one knows the hour or day when time will end except Father God in heaven. So it seems more than a little presumptuous that any minister of the Word of God would be bold enough to name a time. More than a little!
However, think a little longer with me about this.
Walk down a theater ramp, suspend your disbelief, and listen to the movie theme rising as the house lights dim. About 15 minutes into the show disaster erupts and people are dying all over the place without a hero in sight. Tension builds as plot lines intersect until the climax, when civilization is rescued (just barely) by an average guy who cares so much about those in harm’s way, he takes on almost super-human strength and qualities. An emotional domestic scene wraps up the loose ends as lovers, and former enemies, put pettiness behind them for what truly matters.
Now step back into reality with me, trading daylight for the imposed darkness. A little shift has occurred in my mind and heart; I am not the same as I was before I entered the theater. How about you?
So, what if tomorrow is our last day together? How would that change today? What pettiness would become unimportant, and what priorities would become clear as metaphorical dust settles in slow motion through sunrays? Statistically, a pretty big group of people will exit life’s theater tomorrow into eternal reality. I could be in that group. So could you.
Dates and equations, histrionics and drama aside, maybe Rev. Camping isn’t as crazy as everyone is saying he is. And maybe I am a prophet.
