Recently, a man named John Allen Chau was apparently killed on North Sentinel Island after attempting to evangelize to the people who live there. I witnessed a great many responses that showed a very clear lack of understanding about what it is missionaries do and how they do it and even who they are, which has prompted me to start working on a post on missions. That will be finished at some point, but today's reading brought the whole matter to mind because of one very specific claim that was being made about missionaries. The statement that had been made, and showed up a few times, was that Christians (or at least Evangelical Christians) believe Christ cannot return until every people group is reached and therefore missionaries are actively attempting to bring about the end of the world.

Now, there's a lot to unpack there, and we really should start with the fact that what they're talking about is a very specific read of Dispensationalism that is not shared by all Evangelicals, and even then it is being somewhat misunderstood in this context. But this is a devotional, and the thought that came to mind as I was reading today in Revelation 14 and Jesus' prophesy about the destruction of the temple in Luke 21 and the rather violent promises in Psalm 110 and even a chapter of Ecclesiastes (which is always such a cheerful experience as it is) was about how much we really do suggest to the world that the end is our whole focus.

See, because, it is easy to read passages about angels reaping the Earth in which human lives almost seem to lose all individual meaning and forget to view it through the Biblical mindset that people matter. It's easy to read Jesus' words quoted above and just kind of take them as though He is reprimanding the disciples for appreciating the beauty in something that will not last. Even just the tone of voice used in the rare occasions I've heard this passage read aloud belie this innate sense that Jesus is really saying, "Don't bother with any of that, it's coming down anyway" rather than considering that Jesus may also think it's beautiful and maybe, just maybe, He's mourning what He knows about it. We can see the promises of God to deliver the peoples into the hands of Christ as the final judge and king of all the world, and divorce it from the knowledge that Jesus defeats death on the cross and that God shows a consistent desire that none should perish. It's so easy for us to look at the world around us and cry with the Preacher, "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity!"

We are told about the end for a reason. It is good that we know about the full extent and power of God's victory. It is good to view this world with some awareness of what awaits us in the age to come and how our actions today impact that. But we are not told about the end so that we can spend all our time there. We are told about the end so that we can live our lives appropriately now. We can have hope now because we know that Christ has taken the victory and that it will be fulfilled.

But what do we do? We talk endlessly about the end times. We invite people into salvation as though it applies to getting into Heaven but not as though it changes us now. What does the world see when we compare world leaders to the Antichrist and talk about this earth passing away as a shroud and do not broadcast that this religion is something that matters every day as we walk this Earth, and not just something that we sign on to now and then get to enjoy later? We are not pre-ordering salvation! We are being asked to lay down our lives, our entire lives, right here and now and let God decide what we will look like going forward. We are commanded to give everything over to Him and let Him decide how much of it will be given back and what we will do with it. How often do we invite people into that? How often do we take seriously that this might include dying for Christ, but it will absolutely include living for Him? And how often do we show that seriousness of purpose to the people around us?

​When we look at passages about the end times, or what is to come in general, let us be a people who read it seeking to know what that means for us today rather than sacrificing our today to dwell on the future.

As I've mentioned elsewhere, I have been in the core team of four church plants, three of which did not yield a church in the end. After the door closed on Crossroads, the specific plant mentioned in the above link, I was eager to get back to work. I kept an eye out for opportunities, I was applying for new positions, I was growing antsy. God, however, had a period of rest planned for me, and I failed to appreciate it fully while it was happening.

When we talk about there being a time for everything, as the author of Ecclesiastes notes, we often think of all the active somethings we can be doing. We read it as though there is a time to act in one way, and a time to act in another way, and a time to act in yet another way, with no spaces between. But as we come near the end of the harvest season in the northern hemisphere, let's consider that there is also a time to rest, and a time to wait, and a time to prepare.

Nothing in nature produces fruit all the time. There is always a period of gathering resources, storing energy, making preparation. The trees here are beginning to lose their leaves to go into a season of waiting, resting, and gathering what little energy they can to return to vibrant life in the Spring. God knows that we need rest. He built a Sabbath into the created order and surrounded us with examples of plants and animals taking rest for a season before returning to their tasks. And sometimes, when we are being stubborn, He will withhold opportunities and refuse to open doors long enough that we get the rest we need, or learn to wait on His timing, or make the preparations He knows we need for the next step.

As a person with a mind toward church planting, it can be very difficult to spend time not working. Our culture, which emphasizes efficiency and constantly moving toward shifting goals, makes it even harder. But we all need to learn to recognize the season in which God has us, and enjoy it for what it is, and give glory to God for the periods where He restores and renews us in quiet rest as much as those where He uses the work of our hands.

Ecclesiastes is generally seen as a pretty depressing book, and for good reason. The author takes a grim view of the state of the world, the value of basically anything done in this life, even the way God allows judgement and blessing to flow. The book is legitimately dark and difficult. But I submit that this is not entirely because of the things the author sees, but because they are allowing themselves the limitation of earthly wisdom. Consider the opening of the book, quoted in part above.

Where the author bemoans that there is nothing truly new on the Earth in chapter one, he does so through the lens of verses 8 and 11. The fundamentally unchanging nature of mankind and the world are, from the perspective used by the author, tiring in their repetition and empty in our forgetfulness of them. But is an unchanging nature inherently tiresome and empty? It is, after all, the unchanging nature of God that allows David to boldly proclaim:

It is on God's unchanging nature that both His faithfulness and judgement rely. He makes promises throughout scripture, both for the joy of His people and the condemnation of those who oppose Him, and it is on the solid rock of His nature that these promises stand. Even that which appears as new in scripture, like the awesome grace of God to remove sins from undeserving people in the New Testament, is seen in the very same psalm.

God is merciful and unchanging in his mercy. He made known His lovingkindness and desire to bring fallen man into relationship with Him from the beginning. And in the process, He actually opposes the author of Ecclesiastes. For where it is true that, under earthly wisdom and through earthly means, the essential nature of fallen mankind is unchangeable, God is able to change it. He promises to put a new heart into His people, to inscribe His law into our very being, making us a reborn people with a basic nature built on His righteousness rather than our sin.

The Earth has nothing better to do with stability than to grow bored with it, and forget it only to discover it again. But we can hope and take joy in the stability of God, and in His unwavering promise that we can yet be made new.