Our Futures

Good morning, and thank you for joining me once again as we continue to navigate the intricate and often challenging terrain of the Book of Revelation. As I said last week, I am no theological expert on this complex text, and though I’ve come to appreciate Dr. Weaver’s warning about the “theological challenges” scattered throughout its pages, I’m still like a bull in a China shop. In fact, I’ll be rampaging through Chinese scripture as well as the Book of Revelation this morning.

Last week, we examined how the sociopolitical upheavals, pandemics, climate crises, and natural disasters of our modern world seem to echo the cataclysms described in Revelation. Today, I’d like to explore three related and interconnected questions:

1. Should the apocalyptic imagery in Revelation be interpreted literally, as I leaned toward last week, or is it primarily a metaphor for spiritual transformation? Could it perhaps serve both purposes?

2. Does understanding the future hold the same significance in the timeless realm of the spirit—where God’s grace assures our ultimate destiny—as it does in our finite, material, and uncertain mortal lives?
   
3. We seem to want control over all aspects of our lives here and hereafter. Why, and how do faith traditions approach it?

Let’s begin with the idea of being “time-bound.” To be “bound” implies being restrained against our will, often by a villain, often tied up in ropes. What if Time itself is our metaphorical villain? In this sense, being “time-bound” means we are constrained by the relentless march of Time, which brings suffering, loss, and anxiety about what lies ahead. If the Devil is the ultimate villain, then perhaps Time is his accomplice—or even his embodiment.

This notion—that “Time is the Devil”—isn’t a mainstream doctrine in any religion, but I find it a compelling metaphor for the darker aspects of our mortal existence: the regrets of the past, the fears of the future, and the sense of being disconnected from eternity.

So, my first question can be reframed: Do the trials and tribulations described in Revelation represent external catastrophes, like the climate crises we discussed last week, or do they symbolize the internal spiritual struggles fueled by fear and anxiety about the future? Could they signify both?

Carl Jung interpreted Revelation symbolically, from a psychological perspective, seeing it as a depiction of the inner conflict between the “ego” (driven by pride and greed, akin to the Antichrist) and the “divine Self,” which we might equate with the Holy Spirit. Using Jung’s approach, we might take the New Jerusalem as symbolizing the soul’s ultimate reunion with God. The “end of time,” then, becomes less about the destruction of the world and more about the restoration of the soul to eternity—a return to Eden, where we are no longer bound by Time or the Devil.

If our ultimate future is to return to Eden and dwell in God’s presence, why do we fear it so much? The answer depends on whether we’re speaking of our mortal lives or our immortal, spiritual existence. In this world, we strive to eliminate uncertainty, to control and shape our future. And perhaps that’s necessary here. But in the eternal realm, we can entrust the future to God, whose grace frees us from the tyranny of time.

Our task is not to predict or control the timeline of Christ’s return or the end of days. It is simply to live faithfully in the present, embodying Christ’s love and serving others here and now. Yet some Christian traditions focus heavily on the timing of Christ’s return, sometimes at the expense of addressing present needs. Grace calls us to be present—to act with love and compassion today, rather than being paralyzed by fear of tomorrow.

Perhaps Revelation isn’t about the literal end of the world but about the end of historical epochs, the turning point into new epochs marked by spiritual renewal: the collapse of corruption, the end of moral decay within the human heart and its replacement by God’s kingdom. As Jesus taught, “The Kingdom of God is within you” (Luke 17:21). In this light, Armageddon becomes a personal, spiritual battle—a struggle to overcome sin, fear, and selfishness. The tribulations in Revelation mirror the “dark night of the soul,” a poetic phrase coined by St. John of the Cross in the 16^th century to describe a profound spiritual process of purification and transformation, where the soul moves through darkness to find grace and achieve union with God.

Last week, Kiran raised an important question: Why is grace so often absent from eschatological narratives? Grace is central to the Christian story, yet it’s frequently overshadowed by fear and judgment, especially in interpretations of Revelation. But grace reframes the apocalypse not as destruction but in its original Greek meaning of revelation, in this case of God’s unwavering love and commitment to humanity. It is grace that carries us through both internal and external tribulations, leading us into the New Jerusalem—not by our works, but by God’s grace.

In an ideal world, we wouldn’t need to worry about the future. But ours is an imperfect world, marred by sin. It is grace that enables us to face global challenges and our personal struggles without losing hope in God’s promises.

Grace allows us to engage with worldly challenges while keeping our spiritual calling in sight. It is a bridge between action and surrender. This dual perspective is essential. In the material world, we must act wisely to address crises. Spiritually, we need only trust that our ultimate future rests in God’s hands. As Reinhard reminded us last week, the call in Matthew 24 to “stay close to God” is timeless. By focusing on our relationship with God, we find the strength to navigate both external trials and the internal battles within our hearts.

Whether Revelation is read as literal prophecy or spiritual metaphor, it challenges us to confront the urgency of our choices. The end of time, spiritually speaking, is the end of living in fear and the beginning of living in grace. It’s an invitation to transcend time and dwell in the eternal now, where God’s presence transforms both our inner lives and our actions in the world. This convergence of our earthly and heavenly futures points us toward the best of all possible worlds.

We should be further heartened by the fact that Christianity is not alone among the world’s faith traditions in reaching that conclusion. For example, the Taiping Jing (Scripture of Great Peace) is a Daoist text that prophecies “cosmic cycles” (epochs), moral decline, and the eventual return to harmony through the intervention of a sage-ruler or celestial force. 

But there’s a problem: These prophetic and apocalyptic elements differentiate the Taiping Jing from the main Daoist works, the Daodejing and the Zhuangzi, which lack them. 

Daoism evolved over centuries. The original, ancient tradition, which began in the 4^th–3rd century BCE, is essentially philosophical. Taiping Jing represents a quasi-religious outgrowth of that philosophy that emerged 5-600 years later, during the chaotic Han dynasty of the 2nd century CE. It reflects concerns of that era, such as social unrest, moral decay, and the desire for cosmic and political harmony in China. Its prophetic and messianic themes are tied to this historical context and were intended to guide rulers and society toward “Great Peace” (“Taiping”). 

The Taiping Jing’s idea of a messianic sage–ruler or salvific celestial force intervening to restore harmony turned Daoism from a philosophy into a religion. Philosophical Daoismemphasizes the ineffability and spontaneity of the Dao, which cannot be grasped or predicted by human intellect. This philosophical conclusion nevertheless closely mirrors the religious ideas of a divinity. Isaiah wrote:

“For My thoughts are not your thoughts,
Nor are your ways My ways,” says the Lord.

“For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
So are My ways higher than your ways,
And My thoughts than your thoughts. (Isaiah 55:8-9)

To me, that passage is strikingly equivalent to the opening line of the Daodejing:

道可道，非常道；名可名，非常名。

…which I interpret to mean:

“The way of the world is not the way of heaven;
The worldly names for things are not their eternal name.”

To me, this line encapsulates all of Daoist philosophy. It suggests that any attempt to define or describe the Dao inherently limits it, as the true Dao is beyond human ability not only to construct but even to conceptualize. Truth and wisdom and right behavior come from going with the natural flow—the Dao—rather than man-made definitions and doctrines.

But the Taiping Jing goes much further, perversely deriving definitions and doctrines from Daoist principles to address specific historical and social challenges. This contradicts Daoist philosophy, which disdains concern with contemporary affairs and efforts to control them. It seems to me the “religious Daoism” of the Taiping Jing was created to concretize the mystical philosophy of original Daoism and make it actionable and applicable to the events of the day. In this sense it was like all religions in aiming to explain the mysteries, to Name them, in order to control them. 

But the desire to explain the mysteries is a part of the general human condition. We feel we must figure out the future not only in order to reduce uncertainty and control our destinies, but also to seek meaning for our existence. The Taiping Jing’s prophetic and messianic eschatological themes can be understood as part of this human tendency to seek meaning, reduce uncertainty, and not just envision but engineer a better future in times of social, moral, and political turmoil. 

We know it’s a universal human tendency because the other major faiths besides religious Daoism and Christianity—Islam, Hinduism, and Buddhism—feature a Day of Judgment, an End Time featuring moral decay followed by the restoration of righteousness through divine intervention, and even (in the case of Buddhism) a Second Coming (of the Buddha.) All faith traditions provide a sense of hope and direction in the face of uncertainty, offering a narrative that explains the present chaos and points toward a better future. 

But they all differ markedly with original Daoist philosophy. All of them issue an un-Daoist call to action—be baptized, uphold the five pillars, do good works; but non-action (wuwei—无为) lies at the very heart of Daoism. Wuwei means to go with the natural flow of the Dao, avoiding unnecessary interference or forceful action. Philosophical Daoism emphasizes spontaneity, simplicity, and allowing things to unfold naturally, whereas religion specifically calls for social reform, moral rectification, and divine intervention. What makes them so different?

A philosophy is a more or less disciplined system of thought that seeks to understand fundamental truths about existence, knowledge, values, reason, and meaning by asking questions about them. If a question can be answered by empirical observation or simple factual inquiry then it’s a scientific question or a question of logic.

Ultimately, a philosophical question invites reflection, argument, and conceptual analysis, whereas a non-philosophical question seeks concrete, testable answers. But some—perhaps many—of the most important questions about the future require both approaches. For instance, the question “What will AI be capable of in 50 years?” takes both scientific forecasting and deep philosophical questions about intelligence and consciousness.

It seems to me that the distinctions between religion, science, and philosophy go to the heart of approaches to satisfying our need to predict the future. Science predicts trends and events, philosophy asks what those trends mean and how they will reshape our understanding of existence; and religion…? Well, I’ll leave that for you to decide. But to anticipate and prepare for the future might require all three.

Summary and Conclusion

Eschatological teachings across all religious traditions from the Book of Revelation to the Taiping Jing reveal a common human longing to understand and shape our futures. They address the fears of our present reality—catastrophes, moral decay, social upheaval—and point us toward some ultimate resolution, be it in God’s Kingdom or cosmic Taiping—“Great Peace.” They remind us that while we inhabit a world bound by time and limitation, we possess an enduring hope that transcends both.

Yet the impulse to reduce uncertainty and explain life’s mysteries isn’t limited to religion. Philosophy and science likewise engage in futures thinking—though from different vantage points. Science pursues concrete data and trend forecasting, while philosophy probes the meanings and values that underlie human action. Eschatological texts, from Revelation to the Taiping Jing, blend these impulses, offering both grand visions (the better world, the just society) and ethical directives (how to align ourselves with the divine, the Dao, or moral law).

Significantly, Daoist philosophy stands apart in its emphasis on wuwei rather than on orchestrating world events or projecting utopian outcomes. By contrast, the religious Daoism of the Taiping Jing tries to codify and direct cosmic forces for immediate societal needs, mirroring the divine plan for humanity’s destiny revealed in Revelation. The tension between a hands-off, contemplative approach and an active, future-oriented one is quite clear.

Ultimately, whether the challenge is coping with climate crises, seeking the Kingdom of God, or harnessing AI in fifty years, we seem compelled to ask: How do we balance an acceptance of life’s mysteries with our equally real obligation to act? The Christian concept of grace, the Daoist principle of wuwei, and the drive of modern science toward discovery all highlight facets of this paradox. We cannot fully control the future, but neither can we afford to ignore it. A wise engagement with tomorrow demands both humility in the face of the unknown and the commitment to act ethically in the present.

Perhaps that is the final lesson: by embracing the tension between letting go and taking action, we keep one foot grounded in the here and now—where grace, compassion, and empathy are urgently needed—while the other foot gently steps into the yet-to-be-known. In doing so, we honor both our mortal striving and our spiritual longings, allowing us to walk faithfully and thoughtfully toward the futures we all share.

I welcome your reflections on my arguments. I have one question: How can we balance our need for control with our need to surrender in the uncertain time we live in? How do we keep that foot in both camps?

Donald: The Bible Study Fellowship men’s group that I’m part of is going through the book of Revelation. My Adventist background with Daniel and Revelation is significantly different from their approach. We don’t come at it from any doctrinaire viewpoint—we just approach it as a book. 

One of the group recently had to change churches because he was moving and was trying to find a church where he felt comfortable. Shopping around for a church is an interesting concept to an Adventist! There’s really not much opportunity for that for us. As he was visiting different churches, he felt quite comfortable in one where the pastor gave a sermon on the end of time. The pastor got into the idea of “once saved, always saved,” and certainly the majority of the men I’m studying with feel that way: once saved, you can’t do anything to push yourself away from the Father. The Father loves you.

He ended up changing churches over that one fairly significant issue because it’s about eternal life and where you find yourself at the end of time. The gentleman in the class just went along with that. These men have their challenges too, but they’re pretty content with their faith journey. 

I think this is a very unique conversation for those of us from a Seventh-day Adventist background. We’ve dabbled in this topic before. I don’t know if we did an “end of time” discussion, but there was another conversation we had some years ago that spoke to very specific points made by Ellen G. White. Those of us in the class didn’t seem to be speaking up in her defense, and it seemed odd to me. In a Seventh-day Adventist class, we don’t bring her into the conversation, even though she has such a significant perspective on how we understand Daniel and Revelation.

That being said, I’m not here to defend her. I’m just saying she is part of our Adventist culture, and lots of other faith groups certainly do not have her as part of that journey. It makes quite a difference in this conversation.

Don: You are certainly correct, Donald, that she has an overwhelming presence in most Sabbath School discussions about the book of Revelation. I’m struck by the fact that in David’s essay, he finds that in all cultures, there’s an interest in the end of time and the Apocalypse. It seems to be part of the human condition. The desire to know is so strong that we’d rather make something up than face the fact that we don’t know. We’re more comfortable being wrong than being uncertain.

I’m interested in the fact that we make things up. We go back and forth between literal and figurative, between symbolic and concrete imagery. It’s amazing that we don’t have much reservation in our interpretation or even much humility. We’re pretty certain that we have it right. Our perspective reflects our culture and position in life and in the world.

But I think that’s the genius of the genre of Revelation. Regardless of where people are in history, they can find themselves in the book of Revelation. Our interpretation is meaningful to us. The only thing I would caution is to be gently humbled because other people can find themselves in there as well.

Reinhard: From a Seventh-day Adventist perspective, the writings of Ellen White are significant. In our educational system, the subjects of Daniel and Revelation are part of our studies. I learned that years ago. But maybe for us in the Seventh-day Adventist Church, we’re not very knowledgeable about other churches. Sometimes I hear things in the news. Some churches don’t talk much about Revelation; they only say there’s a future event. Some just don’t worry about it. But the common belief is that the second coming will happen.

Some don’t worry about cosmic events because they seem beyond explanation. But the point is that the second coming will happen, whether we see it with our own eyes or not. Maybe this is the grace God gives us—the certainty that if we’re close to Him, we don’t have to worry about the future. I like the phrase I’ve heard as a believer: we know we have to prepare as if the end time could happen tonight or tomorrow, very soon. But in terms of our physical, human life, we continue to work as if there’s no end. We keep living our lives, but spiritually, we’re always prepared for the second coming.

I also find it interesting that many Christian churches believe that when someone dies, their soul goes to heaven and looks down on us. That’s a false belief. The second coming and the resurrection of believers will happen in the future. When you die, everything stops physically—our brain stops, but the spirit cannot die. Who knows what happens to it then? Maybe God takes it somewhere we don’t know, but it’s not biblical to say that someone dies and immediately goes to heaven. The state of death remains until the second coming, no matter how long ago someone died.

So we just have to remain faithful, as it says in Revelation 14:12: we must remain faithful and keep the commandments of God. Those are the people who will be saved. When we have grace and faith in Jesus, no matter what the future holds, whatever happens in the world with science and inventions, we can be confident that we can get through it. It’s just part of the process. God gives knowledge to the human mind, the intelligence to navigate this world. Whatever inventions come in the future, it’s from human choice. But for a believer, remaining faithful to God ensures our future is secure.

C-J: I think it makes perfect sense because of the growth spurts in the brain during adolescence. We often say, “Oh, my goodness, you have a teenager—God bless you!” because that’s when they’re asking really big questions. They look around and wonder, “What is this?” They start questioning authority and societal structures. They want accountability—both from those in power and in terms of the choices they make. They want a better world for themselves and their future, whatever that may be.

Like you said, we sometimes don’t know what’s going to happen even at the end of a week, and that uncertainty impacts adolescents differently. They don’t have the same layers of responsibility that adults do, like punching a clock. They have academic mandates and household rules, but it’s not the same level of accountability. They’re at a stage where they’re willing to take risks and think outside the box. Those “what ifs” become possibilities, whereas older people might say, “Nah, that’s the way it’s always been done.”

If you disrupt the status quo, it creates a domino effect, and suddenly there’s a whole new set of challenges. That’s why, when we look at politics, the evolution from revolution to stability, economics, belief systems, and the merging of religion and societal rules, these changes follow predictable patterns. It makes perfect sense that our youth are the revolutionaries. Then, as they grow, they move into a phase of temperance. They realize, “I need to make a living; I can’t just show up like this. There’s a standard I need to conform to.”

David: I certainly do agree with you on balance, but I think one thing that is missing so far in our discussion, in answer to Donald’s question, is that young people know they are living in an end time, whereas we older folks, many of us still really haven’t grasped that. We don’t understand that the world is reaching a tipping point, that something is about to change. Young people can see it in the technology around us, in the growth of AI, and in the social and political chaos taking place around us. We think we’ll wait another four years and then get back to normal. Nothing’s ever going to impact us at all. But we’re in the same end times as the end of the Han Dynasty—all around us we see catastrophe, cataclysm, moral disorder, social disorder, and physical disorder, like the fires in California. Young people, I think, see this from birth, and inevitably, they are more frightened of it than we are. They’ve got so much more life ahead of them, but it’s under threat. Here we are; we didn’t feel that threat when we were young. Now we’re approaching the end of it, and, well, okay, we’ll leave the younger generations to take care of the mess we’ve left. So, I think, Donald, to answer your question, that’s why I’m not surprised that there is great interest among young people in discussing this topic.

Sharon: I was thinking about the airplane from Kansas City that crashed in Washington this week. There may have been Daoists on board, Muslims on board, Christians on board, young people, old people. For them, they had no idea that the end was near. When the reality of your last few moments comes to each of us, as it will, will we be worried about eschatology? Will we be worried about our doctrinal orientations? I love, Donald, what you said—this is really about control and surrender. There are many things in our lives that we can’t control, and many things happen to us that we may have had something to do with, but we certainly can’t control. But in reality, the bottom line is, hopefully, each day that we’re here, the grace of Jesus comes into us through the Spirit and makes something beautiful out of this broken vessel that I am. We can theorize about it, but in reality, it’s about what the grace of God is adorning me to share—His likeness in the hours that I have. I love the idea that you shared, that it’s as simple as surrender or control. We can fight, we can be nervous, we can be stressed about the time we’re in, or we can share with our young people the joy that comes in bathing ourselves in the full surrender to the God of the universe, our Creator, whatever orientation we come from. I just think, seriously, this week, those dear people in their last hours would not be thinking in terms of the complexities of the future, but I pray that my life has amounted to something in some small way to bring light to the world that’s in darkness.

Don: I think we want control because somehow we have the notion that if we can control the future, or if we can at least predict it, we can position ourselves in a better way, or in a more appealing way to God, so that we’ll have eternal life. It’s the beauty of the concept of grace that relieves us of the anxiety of knowing whether or not we have God on our side and whether or not God will prevail in goodness over evil. We have the opportunity, with the understanding of grace, to not be as concerned about the future, and certainly to relieve ourselves of the sense of obligation to make ourselves forgiven or righteous or holy, because we’re concerned about our standing before God and our credentials for getting into heaven. The idea that grace covers us and transforms us from being mortal to immortal is a very reassuring concept that should be a part of the explanation of our understanding of the book of Revelation and the notions of what our standing will be before God at the end of time.

Donald: One thing that Reinhard expressed is something we should also ponder, and that is the prevailing thought of the difference between your spirit and your soul. That was also included in my Monday night’s discussion. The participants all thought that your spirit went right to heaven, and the second coming was to redeem your soul. We certainly don’t see them as separate entities. I don’t believe in terms of one going to heaven or preceding the other in terms of going to heaven, but I do think that, since that’s such a prevailing thought, I’m sure that those people in that treacherous flight to Washington—if you were to attend their funerals—many, if not most of them, would say they are now in heaven. That’s fairly important, I think, as it relates to this conversation.

Reinhard: Donald mentioned again about immortality. Maybe we’re talking about the spirit, because the Bible mentions God gives the spirit to humans when life starts. It’s probably the spirit that returns to God, but in whatever unconscious manner or whatever, that’s something other churches mention—maybe when you go to heaven. But it’s something where we only have trust in God. When we study the Bible, when we look at Israel when they came out of Egypt, I think it’s pretty much the same. Even though they were with God and God was directly involved in their journey, I think that’s the lesson we have to learn in our lives. Even though God directly showed Himself, with physical appearance, with the cloud and the fire, still calamity happened. Some people got killed because they disobeyed. God only mentioned, “If you keep my commandments, you will live, you will reach the promised land.” The same thing applies to us. We don’t see God with our physical eyes, showing Himself in the sky. Maybe through our faith. The Bible explains that. That’s why we know from the Bible, when we have the faith to know that God is with us all the time, we don’t have to worry about the future—unless we forget what God did in the past. In that case, we worry about the future. So, with the historical events that happened to Israel back then, we can learn the lesson that God will always be with us as long as we keep His commandments and have faith in Him.

David: It seems that religion and the church have a wonderful opportunity to reach out to young people in the way that Donald’s friend is already doing. Because the younger generation is so concerned, and there is so much at stake for them, it’s not just an opportunity but an obligation for the churches to meet this situation head-on, to explore what is happening in the world, what are the signs of the end times today, and then explain why people don’t need to worry about it, why grace trumps all of it. I think the younger generation needs more spiritual guidance today than our generation ever did. It was very easy for us, in the steady times we were born into, to accept grace as given because what was there to worry about? The world seemed to be progressing nicely. But that’s not the case today. It is still true that grace is there to help us, but it’s harder for young people to see it. So here’s an opportunity for the church to reinforce that message of grace among younger people.

Don: Next week, we’ll be discussing grace in the book of Revelation and see what message we might be able to derive from that.

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