Left Behind? The Rapture and God’s Prophetic Love (Sermon 9.28.25)

Well, folks. I’m glad to see you all here this morning. I was half-worried the sanctuary would be empty today… Turns out the rapture must’ve skipped Cheyenne altogether!

Raise your hand if you heard about the rapture prediction this week?

Of course, this isn’t the first time people have held their breath waiting for just this kind of impending apocalypse. The idea itself goes back to the 1830s, when fundamentalist preachers here in the United States began teaching that, one day, God would scoop up the faithful into heaven before unleashing wrath on the earth, destroying people and planet. 

• The earliest such event was in 1844, known as the “Great Disappointment,” when thousands of followers of William Miller awaited the return of Jesus that did not come.

  
  

• 1988 — The booklet, “88 Reasons Why the Rapture Will Be in 1988,” sold millions of copies.

  
  

• 1994 and 2011 — Evangelist Harold Camping twice predicted the exact day of the rapture, broadcasting his predictions across the country.

  
  

• And of course, the Left Behind franchise has sold over 65 million books since its debut in 1995, plus movies and even video games — shaping the worldview of millions of Christians worldwide, and American evangelicals in particular, traumatizing plenty along the way!

  
  

This most recent prediction came from a South African preacher, Joshua Mhlakela, who told his followers online that Jesus had given him the very dates. Tuesday, September 23—the day of the Jewish new year, when God would “rescue Christians out of the world.”

His words set off a global frenzy. 

At this point, I think, it’s safe to say the prophecy didn’t quite work out - and thanks to a livestream, millions watched Mhlakela’s disappointment unfold in real time. 

I didn’t hear about Mhlakela’s prediction until Monday, when it seemed like all of my favorite pastors and theologians were posting content addressing it. All of them agreed, as I do, that the idea of the rapture is contrary to God’s character and is based on a misreading of the Bible (a literalist perspective). When the scriptures warn us to “test prophecies,” this is what it means. 

We must test all prophets against what the witness of the gospel makes clear: that in Jesus Christ, we see a God whose very nature is Love — a God who does not give up on humanity. A God who does not leave anyone behind. 

This is not just my conviction; it is the heartbeat of our faith. 

Hearing this, you might then wonder, well then, why in the world does Jesus tell us this story? 

The story of Lazarus and the Rich Man is difficult to stomach. Especially if you, like me, sometimes get caught reading scripture with your “fundamentalist brain.” 

The parable has often been read as a story about heaven and hell. A story about how to get that ticket to heaven. The rich should give to the poor to alleviate their suffering lest they be tortured forever. Usually, this reading emphasizes charity, not justice. It’s about the rich doing some good to the poor, not about bridging the chasm between rich and poor. 

And depending on your socio-economic status, this reading may sound like awesome or awful news. 

But let us pause and notice what Jesus actually emphasizes. It is not the mechanics of the afterlife, but the refusal of the living to listen to the voices God has already given them. 

Today’s scripture reminds us that the real danger isn’t being left behind in some future rapture. It’s the people we leave behind right now. 

Let us dig a little deeper into this story. 

Jesus tells the story of two men—the unnamed Rich Man, and Lazarus, a sickly man who’s been left to beg on the street. 

It’s unclear from the text where and to whom Jesus tells this story. From the context clues, it seems he is once again speaking to the Pharisees—those religious leaders who are often portrayed as foils to Jesus' countercultural message. 

When both men die, they meet again in the place of the dead—Sheol—or Hades, as it was rendered in Greek translations. There, they find their fortunes reversed. 

Lazarus, who had suffered so acutely in life, has been elevated to a position of honor and comfort. He stands with Abraham—the father of the faith, whose story is told in the Book of Genesis. 

Whereas the Rich Man, who enjoyed the greatest of luxury in life, is tormented by flames. Now he begs Lazarus for help—a drink of water to cool his scorched tongue.  

Abraham steps in—rebuffing the Rich Man’s request, ‘Remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things…

Abraham then points to a great chasm—a gulf so wide, a divide so deep—separating the Rich Man from Lazarus and Abraham.  Even if Lazarus wanted to help, the distance was too great. 

The chasm illustrates their ultimate division—of how far we can drift from one another when love is absent.

The Rich Man immediately understands his situation. He knows he abandoned his responsibility to the poor in general — and to Lazarus in particular. He knows he lived in response to his own desires, not in response to Divine Love. He knows he dined at the table while Lazarus was left to beg for scraps.

And so he begs Abraham to warn his family, so that they might repent of these same ways. 

But Abraham tells him,  “They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.”

In other words, the warning has already been given. 

The prophetic call has already been spoken. 

God’s message to love our neighbors as ourselves runs continuously throughout Scripture.  And if we cannot hear the truth which has already been spoken, why would some new, spectacular sign ever change our hearts?

When we hear the word “prophet,” we often imagine someone who predicts the future—like pastor Mhlakela. But in ancient Israel, prophets were not fortune-tellers. They were truth-tellers—People who called kings and communities back to God’s covenant, who insisted on justice for the poor, and who reminded the people of God’s steadfast love. 

The Hebrew prophets, like Amos, Isaiah, and Jeremiah, thundered against sin and injustice to wake the people up to God’s true calling.

As Richard Rohr puts it in The Tears of Things, prophets “see with the eyes of God, and therefore weep with God’s tears.” They help us feel what God feels about the world—and that is not abandonment, but deep, enduring love.

This stands in stark contrast to rapture theology, which thrives on fear. The rapture imagines a God who punishes rather than redeems. And while fear can certainly galvanize action, it just as often stifles our spirits—leaving us stuck to act out of guilt and shame, rather than setting us free to serve in love.

The prophets do not tell us to wait for our celestial escape from this earthly realm. They tell us to love the widow, the orphan, and the stranger. They tell us to beat swords into plowshares. They tell us to “let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” They tell us to respond to God’s Divine love here and now. 

We don’t need a new revelation, a dazzling miracle, or some last-minute warning. The call is already clear. The prophets have spoken. Jesus has shown us the way.

The message has already been delivered!

And yet, this week, as I watched people respond to rapture mania, I was struck by the power of apocalyptic visions to push people into action.

I heard the story of a young person who, believing the day had come, sold their car and gave away all their possessions—only to wake up the next morning broke and bewildered. Another young woman admitted she skipped her exams, convinced they no longer mattered. She wasn’t left with joy, but with remorse.

Behind every false prophet are real people — wounded, disillusioned, left carrying shame and loss.

Why then do so many still fall for apocalyptic predictions? Well, as psychology explains, when times are uncertain, our brains seek certainty. Neuroscience even shows us that heightened stress makes us more susceptible to black-and-white stories that promise safety, salvation, or control. 

Stories of our ultimate end have power.

Like any story that reminds us we are mortals — whether it’s the end of our own lives, or the end of the world—stories of “the end” can galvanize us into action. Even out of a prior state of ignorance or resignation. 

But the question is: what kind of action does it inspire? Fear can stir us up, but it rarely sustains us. Fear leads to panic, to shame, to paralysis. 

Love, on the other hand, leads to courage, to justice, to compassion.

The story of Lazarus and the Rich Man is not a story about the mechanics of heaven and hell, but about the choices set before us today. For like faith, love is not passive, but active.

The danger is not that we will be “left behind” by God. The danger is that we will leave behind our neighbor, Lazarus, lying at the gate.

So what does it mean today to “listen to Moses and the prophets”?

It means first hearing that great continuous story of God’s love for all Creation across time and scripture—from Genesis to the Book of Revelations. 

And this will have implications for all our lives. 

• Economically: It means refusing to ignore the Lazaruses of our world — the poor at our gates, the unhoused, the hungry.

• Socially: It means rejecting theologies of fear and division, choosing instead solidarity and justice.

• Spiritually:  It means grounding ourselves not in speculation about the future, but in the Word that calls us to love here and now.

  
  

Listening also means recognizing that God’s prophetic voice is not confined to ancient pages, but resounds today — in the cries of the oppressed, in the groans of creation, in the margins where Christ himself dwells.

Friends, the parable of Lazarus and the rich man is not about who gets “left behind” after death. It is about who gets left behind in life — and what we will do about it.

Jesus calls us to listen to what God has already spoken. God’s prophetic love is continuous. It is steady. It has never stopped calling us, no matter how far we stray or how hard of hearing we may be.

So let us listen — and act on what we hear!

Let us love the Lazaruses at our gates. And let us trust that God desires for us not abandonment, but reconciliation. To bridge the chasms that lie between us. 

And God calls us to respond, not out of fear, but out of perfect love. 

Thanks be to God. Amen! 

Sermon preached by Rev. Delaney Piper on 9/28/25.