What Does Truth?!
In a conversation with a man I respect and have sat under as a learner, a subject was broached that continues to bother me—not in a he’s wrong, I’m right sort of way, but in an unsettled dissonance. We had a conversation in graduate school when my class was studying Dispensationalism, an eschatology (study of the end times) that uses segments of time (dispensations of time) to determine the outcome of the end of the world.
He said, “Yes, there are other interpretations (read: opinions) of the end times, but the reason I ascribe to dispensationalism is because dispensational eschatology determines the ecclesiology (doctrine of the church) I practice.”
I nodded hesitantly and told him I wanted to chew on that for a while. After a few days of contemplation, I became increasingly unsettled in the conversation. Questions began to arise in my mind…
Does my lack of a certain eschatological view influence how I do church? And should that matter?
What are the different views of the end times? And what church doctrines follow which view?
Have we founded our practice of church (our ecclesiology) on pillars of end-of-time opinion, rather than on Jesus?
These questions fueled a vicious appetite for knowledge on eschatology, on doctrine variance, and the eyewitness accounts—the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John). After a heavy dose of Dispensationalism in grad school, I skimmed around some Post-Millennialism and Amillennialism doctrine, and after this confusing foray I decided to balance the scales and dig into the Gospels, reading and re-reading in different formats, translations, and paraphrases what Jesus had to say on the “end of the world.” In the search, I hung on to Jesus’ commentary on the Kingdom of God, a central topic to the dissonance I was feeling within the eschatological debate. The Kingdom of God, which most Dispensationalists offer as the ‘coming Kingdom,’ seems to be more than we have been brought up to know.
These questions stirred a deep appetite for understanding: eschatology, the differences within doctrine, and the eyewitness accounts found in the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. After a heavy dose of Dispensationalism in grad school, I explored Post-Millennial and Amillennial frameworks. Each came with its structure, but none found a home in my view of Scriptures. They seemed more concerned with being right than being faithful to Jesus' words. So I turned back to the Gospels. I read and re-read them in various translations and paraphrases, listening closely to what Jesus said about the end of the world.
Again and again, I was drawn to his focus on the Kingdom of God, which was never introduced as a distant promise; it seemed urgent and central to the call to follow him. Follow him by bringing the Kingdom here and now. The Kingdom, which many Dispensationalists treat as something to come, sounded in Jesus’ voice like something already breaking in. He said the Kingdom is like a mustard seed—small, almost forgettable, but growing into shelter for the birds (Matthew 13:31–32). He said it is like yeast, working invisibly through every part of the dough (Matthew 13:33). He said it is like treasure, hidden in a field, found by someone willing to give up everything to find it (Matthew 13:44). These are not parables of a violent interruption at the end of history. They are stories of something already sown. Already fermenting. Already here, and accessible.
A Hidden Curriculum
Holding a Dispensationalist view creates a hidden curriculum, pointing towards something after this life, where "what we do in life echoes in eternity,”1 often in ways that suggest we are building our heavenly reward one brick at a time. This idea of eternal reward based on earthly works is drawn from loosely connected scriptures. In John 14:2, the King James version says, “In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.” But the Greek word there is better translated as 'dwelling places,' and nothing in the passage suggests we can do anything here on this earth to achieve this promise. Thomas, in the next verse, even asks point blank, "Thomas saith unto him, Lord, we know not whither thou goest; and how can we know the way? Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me. If ye had known me, ye should have known my Father also: and from henceforth ye know him, and have seen him."
Similarly, Paul speaks in 1 Corinthians 3:12–15 of a foundation being tested by fire, some work surviving, some burning away, but the context of the chapter is important here as Paul centers the entire concept on the basis of God being the master builder, and you joining him in that work.
Also cited is Revelation 22:12-15, which uses the language of a reward:
“Behold, I am coming soon, bringing my recompense (reward) with me, to repay each one for what he has done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.”
Blessed are those who wash their robes, so that they may have the right to the tree of life and that they may enter the city by the gates. Outside are the dogs and sorcerers and the sexually immoral and murderers and idolaters, and everyone who loves and practices falsehood.”
Again, we must read Revelation with the right pair of glasses, as it is Apocalyptic poetry, used by the Jews of the time in letters to encourage and speak of things hidden in the abstract. Even with the poetic lens, these verses speak to accountability to a life of faithful service, and do not describe some celestial construction project determined by spiritual productivity. In my understanding and study, it speaks to the importance of being faithful to Christ and ensuring that what he has planted has taken root.
If you need more convincing, Bishop N.T. Wright has weighed in quite formally, in his book Revelation for Everyone,“Revelation is not a photograph of the end of the world, but a poetic, symbolic vision of God’s victory over evil—deeply rooted in the Old Testament prophetic and apocalyptic imagination.”2
He also notes in his book, Surprised by Hope, “Apocalyptic is not about predicting the end of the space-time universe. It is a way of investing the present with its full, God-given significance.”3
And perhaps more to the point: if our eschatology trains us to fixate on our eternal reward, or some horrific end-of-times prophecy, then we risk never learning how to aim ourselves rightly here and now. Jordan Peterson, in his book Maps of Meaning, says it succinctly, “You cannot aim yourself at anything if you are completely undisciplined and untutored. You will not know what to target. And you won’t fly straight, even if somehow you get your aim right.” 4
Jesus, Tender Warrior
To further inspect dispensationalism, we must take on the idea of Jesus as a warrior poet, and the ‘coming King,’ which is central to the story of tribulation, doomsday economics (wars, famine, one-world government, et cetera), and the final judgment.
Of which, Jesus comes back to earth, riding in on a white stallion with a sword of truth, cutting down the enemies of truth, staining the ground with blood, and covering his robe with the evidence of disobedience.5
Jesus may remain an enigma, but he is not a contradiction. He can't die on a cross for our sins in one scene, and come back to wipe out the sinner in the final scene. Any moviegoer, script writer, or Director would call that out as too contrary to the character we've created; the audience will not believe it.
He can't come first to love the prostitute, the tax collector, and the adulterer, and then come back to kill them, if they don't say a prayer and tithe ten percent. It just doesn’t fit.
Our ecclesiology will break if we are so influenced by this conflicting eschatological view.
A reductionist version of Jesus, as petty and vengeful, creates a self-centered gospel message, which wrongly focuses on "saving" the eternal fate of our soul rather than redeeming the present state of our neighbor. Walter Brueggemann aims us correctly when he says, “It is not the aim of apocalyptic to predict the future but to empower a faithful present.” 6
In this vein, end-time theology often narrows our view of this world, orienting us entirely toward the next, the new heaven and new earth. This shift de-prioritizes any sense of stewardship here and now. If we are aliens and exiles, merely passing through, then why tend the soil? Why protect the waters? Why stay and repair what we believe will be destroyed? This 'not our world mentality' becomes the theological justification for our neglect, fuel for every dystopian script, and an excuse for disengagement. It allows us to ignore the social, environmental, and political atrocities unfolding not only around the world, but also in our city centers and town halls. This ignorance is what drives Duane Clinker to recognize that “specific evil action is not required to wipe out vast sections of humanity, but simple apathy.”7
Apathy. When we proselytize, we don't familiarize ourselves with the actual person, context, and place.
“A soul’s true worth isn’t determined by how many saved souls it’s racked up like scout badges, but by the depth of its love, the breadth of its sorrow, and the courage of its attention.”8— David James Duncan, God Laughs & Plays
The true family.
Familiarize—familial, family, a group of people relating to one another.
When we focus on conversion rather than on becoming family, we cut short the full meaning of the Gospel. A familial way of life is hard to live out. I don’t want to make sinners a part of my family. I don’t want to love the addicted, the depressed, the chronically broken. It is far easier to lead someone in a one-time prayer than to lead them down the long road toward healing, one agonizing step at a time.
For many years, my wife ran a women’s home for those recovering from addiction. When we married, she moved out of the group home and into a small rental just two blocks away, with me. But we never really left. We spent countless meals in that home, listening to stories and walking alongside women as they fought for sobriety, identity, and restoration. The program was thirteen months. Thirteen months of clear air. Thirteen months of space away from addiction, from their past lives, and for some, thirteen months away from their husbands and children. It was a season of learning, of breaking patterns, and of finding new rhythms.
Some stories still bring joy to my heart. Women like Anna, Sarah, and Teresa, who chose life, who stepped into healing, and who became light-bearers for others. But there are other stories too, the ones that still break our hearts. Women who, no matter how much was poured into them, drifted back to old habits and disappeared into the darkness of addiction.
One story haunts me most. She had reconciled with her daughter, rebuilt trust with her husband, graduated from the program, and seemed to have found a path forward. But somewhere in the return to ordinary life, secrecy crept back in. She hid the signs, the struggle, the relapse. Then one day her daughter found her; she was gone. Alone at home, she had overdosed and died.
I wish that story had ended differently. I wish the Kingdom always looked like healing, reunion, and resurrection. But sometimes it looks like a loss. Sometimes prayers are unanswered, or at least not answered in the way we had hoped. Still, we pray, “Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” Because Kingdom here, Kingdom now, is not an abstraction. It is embodied.
And really, we only have two options:
Option #1:
Do not worry about the bad and the ugliness of this world. Once everyone hears about Jesus—through evangelistic messages and cool Jesus videos—he will come back to judge all, giving a shiny new world to the good and throwing the bad into an eternal furnace of fire.
Option #2:
Blessed are the spiritually poor—the kingdom of heaven is theirs. Blessed are those who mourn, who weep about sin and long for how things are supposed to be—they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek and gentle—they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness—they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful—they will be shown mercy. Blessed are those who are pure in heart—they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers—they will be called children of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted because of their righteousness—the kingdom of heaven is theirs.
And blessed are you—blessed are all of you—when people persecute you or denigrate you or despise you or tell lies about you on my account. But when this happens, rejoice. Be glad.
You, beloved, are the salt of the earth. But if salt becomes bland and loses its saltiness, can anything make it salty again? No. It is useless. It just lies there, white and bland and grainy. It is tossed out, thrown away, or trampled.
And you, beloved, are the light of the world. A city built on a hilltop cannot be hidden. Similarly, it would be silly to light a lamp and then hide it under a bowl. When someone lights a lamp, she puts it on a table or a desk or a chair, and the light illuminates the entire house.
You are like that illuminating light. Let your light shine everywhere you go, that you may illumine creation. Let others see your good actions, see creation at its fullest, see your devotion to me, and turn and praise your Father in heaven because of it. 9
The first option is easy; it is the least amount of work for the most potential gain. Invite a neighbor to church on “Invite a Friend Sunday,” but never actually get to know the needs of your neighbor. Build a Bible app, with multiple translations, so that we can cover the 10/40 Window and finally trigger the rapture of the righteous.10
Ok, a bit too snarky there... I couldn't resist.
The second option is more difficult. It is self-sacrificing. It looks like going to a homeless shelter, a prison, an orphanage, or across the street to a neighbor. It looks like sharing the love of God with loving hands of service, loving words of encouragement, loving loaves of bread, and loving clothes for the head.
“The purpose of life is finding the largest burden that you can bear and bearing it.” [^11] — Jordan Peterson, 12 Rules for Life
So I guess my mentor was right—my eschatology does affect my ecclesiology.
“To give a cup of water in His name is to be loyal to His sovereignty. To wash feet, to welcome outcasts, to eat with sinners—these are not marginal acts. They are the mission.” [^12]. — Fred Craddock
In conclusion
Someday, I am going to die. It may be tomorrow, or it may be when I’m ninety. And that will be the end of my time—my eschatology. In that moment of judgment, I will hear a remark on how I did community, church, and family—my ecclesiology.
And I hope that these will be the words spoken not only by Christ, but echoed by my friends and family:
“Well done, good and faithful servant. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me,I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.” 13
- “What we do in life echoes in eternity.” — Maximus, Gladiator (2000)
- N.T. Wright, Revelation for Everyone (London: SPCK, 2011), x.
- N.T. Wright, Surprised by Hope (New York: HarperOne, 2008), 133.
- Jordan B. Peterson, Maps of Meaning: The Architecture of Belief, New York: Routledge, 1999.
Revelation 19:11–16 (ESV)
Then I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse! The one sitting on it is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he judges and makes war. His eyes are like a flame of fire, and on his head are many diadems, and he has a name written that no one knows but himself. He is clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and the name by which he is called is The Word of God. And the armies of heaven, arrayed in fine linen, white and pure, were following him on white horses. From his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations, and he will rule them with a rod of iron. He will tread the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God the Almighty. On his robe and on his thigh he has a name written, King of kings and Lord of lords.
Walter Brueggemann, Reverberations of Faith, Westminster John Knox, 2002.
Duane Clinker, “Social Holiness,” unpublished manuscript, quoted in Brian McLaren, Everything Must Change, p. 244.
David James Duncan, God Laughs & Plays: Churchless Sermons in Response to the Preachments of the Fundamentalist Right, New York: Penguin, 2006.
The Voice of Matthew by Lauren F. Winner, adapted from Matthew 5:3–16.
Luis Bush, “The 10/40 Window,” Missio Nexus, originally published in The AD2000 Movement, March/April 1990.
The 10/40 Window refers to the area of the world between 10 and 40 degrees north latitude, identified by evangelical missions strategist Luis Bush as having the highest concentration of unreached people groups. It has been widely adopted in mission rhetoric as a geographic focus for evangelism, particularly concerning end-times urgency.
Jordan B. Peterson, 12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos, Toronto: Random House Canada, 2018.
Fred B. Craddock, The Cherry Log Sermons, Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001.
Matthew 25:35–36