By Dave McGarrah
Every day the headlines seem to grow darker. Wars and rumors of wars, rising global tensions, economic uncertainty, natural disasters, and moral confusion dominate the news cycle. When we open our phones or turn on the television, we are bombarded with a constant stream of crises breaking across the globe. From shifting geopolitical alliances to fracturing social structures, the world feels increasingly unstable.
For many, conversations about Bible prophecy have become intertwined with fear, speculation, and endless attempts to connect current events to the end times. It is easy to become overwhelmed by the sheer volume of alarming commentary, leading many believers into a state of chronic anxiety or despair about where human history is heading.
Yet when the New Testament speaks about Christ’s return for His Church, its emphasis is remarkably different. Rather than inspiring panic, the promise of the rapture is presented as a source of hope, comfort, and joyful anticipation. The primary purpose of prophetic Scripture is not to drive us into survival mode or cause us to retreat from society in fear. It is not intended to fuel anxiety about tomorrow but to anchor believers in the certainty that Jesus Christ will keep His promise.
When the apostle Paul instructed the believers in Thessalonica regarding the Lord’s return, he concluded with a clear directive: “Therefore comfort one another with these words” (1 Thessalonians 4:18). Prophecy was given to steady our hearts, clarify our purpose, and remind us that history is firmly in God’s hands.
We just returned from a short but significant trip to Israel. There is an undeniable gravity to walking through the land of the Bible, where ancient history and contemporary prophetic fulfillment intersect. While I was there, I had a chance to stand on the Temple Mount and gaze at the Mount of Olives. Looking across the Kidron Valley toward that iconic ridge, it is impossible not to feel the weight of redemptive history.
It was on those very slopes that Jesus wept over Jerusalem, where He prayed in agony in the Garden of Gethsemane, and from where He ultimately ascended into heaven. I found myself recalling the end-times briefing Jesus gave His disciples in Matthew 24-25 – and it was a meaningful thing to consider what He said, while standing right where He said it.
That briefing was heavy with hope, but also carried a warning about how we ought to be living our lives now. Jesus did not give His disciples a breakdown of future events merely to satisfy their curiosity; He gave it to shape their character and sharpen their vigilance. He repeatedly urged them to watch, be ready, and remain faithful stewards while waiting for His return.
I came away with that on my mind, while the current situation in the Middle East was making plenty of noise in the background. The word everyone was using – Iran, the U.S., Israel, and every news outlet covering it – was “escalation.” Meaning we should expect an ongoing and increasing involvement with Iran, not limited to those three nations, but drawing in the surrounding Middle Eastern nations as well. The military movements, strategic alliances, and ideological hostility in the region align with incredible precision with what the prophets foretold millennia ago. I’m reminded again: we are living in Bible times.
It’s these kinds of ingredients, layered on top of the political division and disappointment all around us, that cause us to wonder: Will I ever live in a world that offers real peace and security? Humanity has tried for centuries to construct lasting peace through diplomatic treaties, international alliances, and political movements, yet every human effort eventually falters under the weight of human sin.
The Bible says, “Yes.” Real, lasting peace is coming, but it will not be brought about by human diplomacy or global government; it will be established by the Prince of Peace Himself when He returns to reign.
Deep inside us, there is a sense of something more in life that drives us on. No matter what experiences you’ve had, no matter how wonderful they were, they were just a glimpse of what is still ahead. Even our best moments on earth – moments of profound joy, love, beauty, or accomplishment – leave an underlying whisper that there must be something greater. You are homesick for a place you have never been before, and that place is Heaven. You were wired this way.
The Bible says that God has put eternity in our hearts (Ecclesiastes 3:11). There is a sense inside of us that there is more to life than this. That’s what keeps us moving forward. We were created for an eternal relationship with our Creator, which is why finite earthly pleasures can never permanently satisfy our souls.
It’s something like the homing instinct we see in the animal kingdom – salmon making their way upstream with unshakable determination, or the swallows that return every year to San Juan Capistrano. It’s a homing instinct that drives them. Without maps or compasses, these creatures navigate thousands of miles across vast distances because their Creator coded an innate destination within their very nature.
We have the same thing, but ours is a homing instinct for a place we haven’t seen yet. It is a homesickness for Heaven. Until that day, nothing will completely satisfy our lives. Every longing we experience for perfection, justice, wholeness, and unbroken fellowship is actually a yearning for our true home. No matter what happens to us on earth, it pales in comparison to this great hope.
The apostle Paul wrote: “For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever! So we don’t look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever” (2 Corinthians 4:17–18).
This is the hope of believers – the hope of a place called Heaven. Paul did not minimize human suffering, but he possessed an eternal perspective that contextualized every trial. In light of eternity, even the heaviest earthly burdens become lightweight and temporary. There is a better world ahead. There is something greater than what we’re experiencing now. This is what Jesus was talking about there on the Mount of Olives.
And that briefing on the Mount of Olives raises a question I get often – what did Jesus actually say to His disciples that day about the rapture, the Tribulation, and the Church? It’s one of the most misunderstood passages in all of prophecy, and some teach that Jesus said the Church will endure the full seven years of Daniel’s 70th Week, Great Tribulation included. This view often creates unnecessary dread among Christians, leaving them fearful that they will have to endure the terrible outpouring of divine wrath described in Revelation.
I don’t believe that’s what the text says – the Scriptures consistently teach that believers are saved from the coming wrath of God (1 Thessalonians 5:9), and that Christ will rescue His Bride before the final period of judgment falls upon an unbelieving world. I’ve written a companion piece walking verse-by-verse through Matthew 24-25 to show why.
Knowing that our redemption draws near shouldn’t cause us to step back from the world, but rather to press in with greater urgency and love. We are called to share the gospel, serve our communities, and reflect the light of Christ in an increasingly dark culture. You and I are here for “such a time as this.” God intentionally chose for us to live in this exact generation, equipped with His Spirit and His Word to make an eternal impact.
Live with great expectation! Do not let fear paralyze your faith or steal your joy. Why? Because you can almost hear the footsteps of the Messiah!
Under the leadership of Dave McGarrah, Master Minded Ministries has spent nearly two decades reconnecting believers with the deep Jewish roots of their faith. Through educational outreach, immersive trips to Israel, and the interfaith radio program The Teacher (Rabbi) and The Preacher, the organization actively bridges the gap between Christian and Jewish communities.
