Sign Of The Times?

I took this photo this afternoon and I have to say my feelings about it are decidedly mixed.

I am not blind to the humor or the irony: I can see that, if May 21, 2011 is indeed "Judgment Day," then it follows -- at least I think it follows -- that the Fire Danger Index would be considerably higher than a mere 2. I also get that if there is a Rapture tomorrow -- something far different than the Final Judgment, by the way -- then those who are indeed taken away will leave lots of things behind (proving, of course, the adage that "you can't take it with you"). I get, too, something perhaps too subtle, namely, that those who think they will be caught up in the Rapture might have second thoughts if they realize someone will be rifling through their forsaken goods. And I further understand the humor and irony in picturing those who are supposed to protect our property -- firefighters -- rushing to the homes of the suddenly departed in order to abscond with everything in sight. I get what's funny; I get the irony. If I didn't, I would not have taken the picture.

But is there something amiss when a town department -- in this case a fire department -- pokes fun at a group's religious beliefs? Granted, those who expect a Rapture -- that Jesus Christ will raise the faithful from a damned planet and leave the faithless behind without hope of redemption -- belong to a rather small group; there are many very devout and orthodox Christians who do not believe in this particular event. Regardless, the Rapture is a distinctly religious belief held by very sincere and devout people. Is this appropriate for a town sign?

Hey, but let me count myself among those who are skeptical about what is prognosticated for tomorrow. Clearly the prophecy possesses one intrinsic problem: it is May 21 somewhere right now, and yet I write this on May 20. Perhaps Jesus was way ahead of His peers (which, to the devout, seems undeniable) when He admitted that even He did not know the "day or the hour" when the earth would come to an end. Perhaps Jesus was well aware that geo-physics -- with a roundish, revolving earth and all -- reveal that a "day" is a rather relative term; and this especially when we consider that today is already tomorrow somewhere east of where I sit (and west, of course). May 21 is today; so, too, is May 20. When, pray tell, is the earth really "within" what we would call "May 21, 2011"? Does the universe itself follow the Gregorian (or Julian) calendar? (What day is it on the International Space Station, by the way, or what day is it on the sun?)

Moreover, at what point in a Christian's life does he or she gain the confidence to KNOW what Jesus Christ claimed not to know? Or is this just another example of the gnostic temptation -- to know and discern what others are too obtuse, dumb or worldly to divine for themselves? Clearly the gnostic temptation is an all too common one, but one would think the last people to fall prey to such an allurement would be the Christians whose Lord admitted the "day [and] the hour" were not something with which He was particularly concerned. 

But, well, whatever. The world keeps spinning. I have been taught since a child to live and love as if each day is my last -- with the emphasis on love. I have been taught to "be ready," and not just in the religious but even in the social or existential sense: I ought to have as few loose ends with my loved ones as possible. In a very real sense every day is Judgment Day. I've got no guarantees I have a tomorrow. Heck, I don't have any guarantees that I have a right now. I can only trust, hope, believe. I can only beg for mercy and grace; and I can give what love, grace, and hope I have to give. 

Is Jesus returning tomorrow? I have no idea. I know that the mystery of the Christian faith is summed up in this triad: Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again. Christians have proclaimed this for 2,000 years, and it is doubtful they will stop proclaiming it after tomorrow. 

But it is good to remember what is recorded as the last prayer written in the New Testament; it is a prayer given in response to Christ's last promise. It is a sober prayer. It is a prayer I can almost hear spoken with a sort of reverent reluctance. Surely it is not offered with great vigor and enthusiasm; surely it is not something proclaimed with a great deal of glee. It is more a prayer of trusting resignation than it is one of eager confidence and unrestrained jubilation. 

"Behold, I return quickly." 

"Even so, return Lord Jesus." 

Peace to you all. May all love be yours. Forever.

©2011/Bill Gnade