I wonder if you remember the first time you thought about the end of the world?
I was the poster child of apocalyptic anxiety—the kid who would cry herself to sleep because the rapture might happen in the night… and I might be left behind.
I may have been extreme, but I doubt I am the only one who has cowered before the apocalyptic parts of Scripture. They are scary, undoubtedly so. The challenge lies in how we respond to this fear.
We tend to do one of two things: a small number of people live in hyper-alert, constant anxiety, always expecting the world to end at any moment. The rest of us do our best to forget about it entirely. It sounds scary, so we put our fingers in our ears, close our eyes, and do our best to just think about something—anything—else.
I have spent over twenty years bouncing back and forth between these two extremes. But I am slowly learning a different path. Scripture calls us to a better way—far more ordinary, far more demanding. It entails at least three elements.
Multiple times in this passage, Jesus tells us not to be afraid. He knows that our response will be fear, and yet if we remain in fear, it will paralyse us. In the language of modern neuroscience, our prefrontal cortex will go offline, robbing us of our capacity to think and act in a deliberate and rational manner. Instead, Jesus calls us to be alert. I don’t think this is the hyper-alertness of fear. No, it is the alertness of presenc —the calm alertness that notices, that is ‘all there,’ in the present moment, awake to God, in step with the Spirit.
How is this possible? We can do this because Jesus promises to be intimately present to us, “even to the very end of the age.” He promises to be so close that he will even whisper to us the very words we need when under fire (Lk. 21:15).
This sounds good, but as a recovering apocalyptophe, I know that this calm assurance doesn’t always work its way into life so seamlessly. How, then, do we move from fear or apathy to calm alertness?
Here I commend to you the wisdom of Advent. Like modern neuroscience, the early church knew that we need practice to put off old habits. We only outgrow our fear and indifference as we—year in, year out relive the end of the story. As we remember Christ who came to be with us, and learn to long for the day when he will be with us forever, we grow in spiritual muscle, and get ready “to stand up, and lift up our heads because our redemption is drawing near” (Lk. 21:27).
Reflection by Laura on Luke 21:5-38