There is a particular kind of popular evangelical end-times theology that has done enormous damage to the Church’s witness. It thrives on charts and timelines. It fuels bestselling novels and “blockbuster” movies. It turns complex apocalyptic literature into a secret codebook for modern geopolitics. And it is, quite frankly, an adventure in missing the point.

The moment someone refers to “Revelations” as a roadmap for predicting current wars, identifying modern political figures as the Beast, or mapping military strategy onto Armageddon, I’ve already drawn a quiet conclusion: we are no longer dealing with careful biblical interpretation. We are dealing with projection.

In what may be shocking to some, the Book of Revelation was not written in or for twenty-first century America. It was written in the first century to seven very real churches living under the crushing weight of the Roman Empire. It was apocalyptic literature, which is a genre full of symbols, coded resistance, cosmic imagery, and prophetic imagination. It was written to suffering Christians tempted either to compromise with the empire or despair under its violence.

It was not written to help Americans decode the United Nations, modern microchips, or Middle Eastern military campaigns.

When we treat Revelation as a literal script for contemporary politics, we do violence to the text itself. We rip it from its historical and cultural context and force it to answer questions it was never asking or trying to answer.

Fear-based end-times theology has been profitable. It creates anxiety and fear. It sells books. It fills conferences. It generates clicks. But fear does not produce the fruits of the Spirit.

Instead, fear often produces suspicion, tribalism, and a dangerous “good vs. evil” narrative that flattens entire nations and turns people into caricatures. The irony is striking (well, at least to me)…in the name of fighting evil, Christians sometimes mirror the very characteristics Revelation warns against: coercion, domination, violence, idolatry.

Revelation is not primarily about predicting the end of the world. It is about unmasking the empire.

Rome claimed to be eternal. Rome claimed to bring peace through violence. Rome demanded allegiance. Revelation dares to say, “that is not the way of the Lamb.”

The central image of Revelation is not a war machine. It is a slaughtered Lamb.

One verse in one chapter of one book features one symbolic image that has helped elevate much of the fear-based theology surrounding Revelation…“Armageddon” (see Revelation 16:16).

Now political and military leaders claim their wars are prophetically necessary. Military aggression becomes “God’s plan.” Violence is sanctified. Entire populations are collateral damage in an apocalyptic script. And, if we are good Christians (and better Americans), we aren’t supposed to question it!

When Scripture is used to baptize war, we should tremble. When leaders speak of geopolitical conflict as divinely mandated, we should ask whether we are witnessing faithfulness or idolatry.

We should remember, Revelation was written to resist the empire, not to justify it.

In our current moment, we are watching something profoundly troubling. We are witnessing the hijacking of Christian faith by political idols. When national identity becomes synonymous with God’s purposes, we have crossed into idolatry.

Some strands of evangelical theology have elevated the modern nation-state of Israel into an untouchable prophetic centerpiece. This has led to near-blind political loyalty, where actions in places like Gaza and the West Bank are shielded from moral critique because of a particular reading of prophecy. But biblical Israel and a modern secular nation-state are not the same thing.

A theology that grants any nation unchecked moral immunity is not biblical. The prophets of Israel never gave Israel a free pass. They called them to justice, mercy, and humility. Why would modern political entities be exempt?

When theology removes our capacity to critique violence or injustice, it is no longer Christian theology. It is propaganda.

One of the great tragedies of shallow end-times theology is how easily it draws lines between “us” and “them.” History and Scripture remind us that evil rarely wears a name tag. Many who loudly claim to stand for “good” exhibit none of the fruit of the Spirit. Where is love? Where is kindness? Where is gentleness? Where is self-control?

If our theology excuses cruelty toward immigrants, shrugs at the suffering of civilians, demeans political opponents, or celebrates domination, then it is not shaped by the Lamb of Revelation. It is shaped by the Beast. And Revelation is crystal clear about which one wins.

A more faithful reading of Revelation sees it as a book of hope. It tells suffering believers that God sees and knows. The empire does not get the final word. In the end, it is the Lamb who reigns. 

The final vision is not annihilation. It is restoration. The ending vision is a new heaven and a new earth coming down. It speaks of God dwelling with humanity. Tears will be wiped away and death will be defeated.

Revelation is not an escape plan. It is a resistance manual wrapped in worship. It calls us to endure, to refuse allegiance to violent systems, to worship God alone, and to embody the way of the Lamb in the middle of empire.

That is profoundly different from using Revelation as a justification for militarism.

Years ago, I found myself in a heated debate among pastors from a variety of theological perspectives about premillennialism, postmillennialism, and amillennialism. People were referencing charts and timelines. Greek verbs were being dissected and voices were rising.

Then a wise elder, Eldon Morehouse, quietly ended the debate. He simply said, “You can argue all you want. But I believe in panism. It will all pan out in the end.”

Mic drop.

There is deep wisdom there. The Christian hope is not in getting the timeline right. It is in trusting that God is faithful.

When I read the headlines that US troops are being told that the war with Iran is “part of God’s plan” to “bring about biblical end times,” I found myself being reminded that lazy theology is not harmless.

When we read apocalyptic texts shallowly, we easily justify war. We excuse inhumane treatment of our neighbors. We sanctify political leaders who bear no resemblance to Christ. We numb ourselves to injustice because, well, “it’s all part of the plan.”

But the plan of God revealed in Jesus is not domination. It is self-giving love. The end of the story is not a Christian empire crushing its enemies. It is a Lamb who conquers by being slain. The question is not whether we can decode the timeline. The question is whether we will follow the Lamb now.

If Revelation teaches us anything, it is this: God is with us. God is for us. The empire will fall. Love will endure. In the end, God wins. Yes, Saint Eldon, it will all pan out!