If you are looking for an online church, whether because of lockdown, ill health, or any other reason, please consider St Barnabas Anglican Church in Atlanta, Georgia (USA). This church is not affiliated with the blog in any way, but has proved a source of comfort and fellowship to some of its members.

Saint Barnabas is an Anglo-Catholic church, which may be suitable for a number of readers of this blog, especially those who would like to attend something more traditional but feel unable to follow a Latin liturgy. St Barnabas broadcasts its services live and offers Zoom bible study sessions. Don’t forget to like and subscribe, so that you are notified of services in advance, and to visit their website. If you live in the UK, don’t forget the time-zone difference: the morning Sunday Eucharist service is broadcast at 15:55 UK time.

The intention of this post is not to recommend a particular church over another, and so contributors and readers of the blog are welcome to put links to other church services that they have found helpful in the comments below, whether of their main, pre-lockdown church, or one they discovered after the inception of the pandemic.

I am mindful that for many, their own normal church may not provide online services or they may feel that they were in any event looking to explore something different. This pandemic has given many of us pause and, indeed, forced some churches to close where they were not able to put sufficient financial support structures in place.

Online church is, of course, not the same as attending in person. For those of us in the UK who await in-person services again, the return to these, once authorised again, may not be straightforward. My own “mother church”, if you like, is Baptist. Accordingly, the return to in-person services, though led by the leadership team, will be in consultation and collaboration with the members, who elect the leaders and vote on important matters.

As we look forward to gathering once again, many of us will be pensive, reflecting on where our walk with God will lead, and what the communal aspect of that walk will look like. For some, the focus will be on receiving the sacraments again; for others it will be about the public worship of God through our prayers and hymns; for others still, it will be about outreach ministries in various forms.

But there will also be those who are new to the faith, nervous perhaps about attending a church in person for the first time (or the first time after a long absence). In addition, there will no doubt be those whose faith has been challenged by the pandemic (or had their pre-existing concerns forced to the surface by it). Returning to “normal life” for these two groups may mean attending an Alpha Course or some other appropriate structured meetings or sessions to learn the fundamentals of Christianity (or have them re-examined and re-affirmed).

I hope that this blog will be of use to people in all of the above circumstances and that we all continue to support one another in any way we can.

Return of the sun

So here we are and the days are lengthening. Soon the clocks will go forward. Mothering Sunday approaches and daffodils are open or opening in our gardens. This is the time of year when the sky is a watery blue, and we crawl out of the wreckage of winter, cradling hope for something new, something better.

Perhaps more than many a previous year, we cling on, awaiting the easing of restrictions, a fall in infection and death rates, and an end to the caution, fear and anger that have riddled us. Soon it will be exactly a year since the first lockdown was imposed in the UK.

Hope is not an easy thing to keep hold of. It also comes unexpectedly upon us, returning like a ray of light penetrating a dark place. It reveals our vulnerabilities, the fact that we are in God’s hands. Yes, we make choices and are responsible for them – but much of life is beyond our control. Things happen to us and we are faced with the challenge of overcoming them, sometimes in ways that seem contrary to logic.

Martyrs

The martyrs, following the footsteps of Christ, have overcome evil with their own death. When one chants, hears, or recites the Litaniae Sanctorum, especially in the presence of icons or other images of the saints and the Saviour, one is struck by the amount of violent death in Christian history.

Saint Stephen was stoned. Under Nero, the Roman matryrs were burned as “torches” in the night and killed by beasts in the arena; Saint Peter was crucified upside down; and Saint Paul was beheaded. Saint Sebastian was pierced with arrows. Saint Ignatius was thrown to the beasts. Saint Polycarp was burned at the stake and pierced with a spear, and Saint Laurence is traditionally held to have been burned to death on a gridiron.

Martyrdom has persisted throughout the history of the Church. Today Christians suffer terrible persecution at the hands of Islamists and Communists and other totalitarians. Their witness haunts us and surrounds us – but in heaven they are seated with Christ in glory. Sometimes it is good to look at paintings and icons of them seated with Christ, inspired by the imagery of Revelation and other parts of Scripture, as a reminder to us that, though they suffered terrible things, they have obtained everlasting glory and will one day rule the earth with Christ when He returns.

The Exodus and Cherubim

I have been watching videos on the YouTube channel, “Ancient Egypt and the Bible“, which are put out at least once per week. The host is an academic and holds to a Ramesside date for the Exodus (Late Bronze Age / Early Iron Age). The videos are interesting and reminded me to re-examine a depiction of the Ramesses II’s camp tent, as many scholars consider that to be useful as context for understanding the Tabernacle of Meeting raised by Moses.

It is interesting to note that the cartouche of the Pharaoh in the inner room of the tent (which analogically corresponds to the Holy of Holies) is flanked, or “overshadowed” by two falcons (representing Horus) with open wings. The terms “Cherubim” is essentially a functional one referring to the spirits that surround the throne of God and draw His chariot.

They are described in different ways in Scripture, which suggests that, although the basic concept of what they are remained static, the conceptualisation of their appearance was most likely conditioned by cultural context. Accordingly, having spent years in Egypt, the Israelites most likely conceived of their appearance in Egyptian iconographic terms following the Exodus and for many years after (i.e. as sphinxes, falcons, Isis and Nephthys, etc.). (Similarly, the “Seraphim” of Isaiah were most likely imagined in Egyptian terms because of the cultural influence of Egypt over Judah in the days of Isaiah. Seals from the period have images of cobras with many wings, derived from the Egyptian uraeus.) By contrast, during the Babylonian Exile, Ezekiel’s Cherubim clearly owe more to Mesopotamian iconography than they do to Egyptian. It is also possible that Abraham, having come from Mesopotamia, conceived of these throne-guardians in similarly Mesopotamian imagery.

Josephus believed the cherubim on the Ark of the Covenant resembled birds. One might naturally assume this, given the biblical text explicitly refers to their wings. However, this may be a tradition that accurately recorded the fact that they were modelled on the Egyptian falcon iconography. We may never know as the Bible says the Ark will never be built again, and it may never be recovered, if indeed it still exists.

We have seen controversy recently here at AATW with Jess’ and Chalcedon’s posts on Julian of Norwich. I think it is worth reminding ourselves that this medieval society was frequently reminded of the Last Judgment through daily prayers, liturgy, and images. Many a church featured a so-called “Judgment Portal”, which no doubt created anxiety in the minds of large numbers of people. Martin Luther, who lived in the transition from the Medieval to the Early Modern periods, struggled to find peace and love, perhaps exacerbated by what we would now call neurosis.

Figures like Julian of Norwich, who had visions and intense personal piety, seem to have risen up to proclaim the love of God to a society that struggled to feel and accept it. Although in many respects removed from the Bronze Age, Iron Age, and Roman cultures that created their respective portions of the bible, medieval people could still in many ways relate to its narratives. This was an age that witnessed incredible brutality, abuse of power, refusal of justice, and religious hypocrisy and perversion. The man who would become Richard III had a taste of this during his time in the North in his younger years. A man was brutally killed and mutilated – yes mutilated – by highwaymen who managed to evade justice because they were protected by a powerful local lord. Richard of York tried to obtain justice for the man’s widow – but to no avail. The courts of equity were born in the medieval period as a consequence of the Crusades and, as their name suggests, they were created because the courts of law were no longer considered fair.

So we can understand the visionary figures who emphasised the love of God and devotion to Mother Mary in a world that, if it thought God was anything like the local lords and justices, feared the Last Judgment. They were taught about the eternal torment of Hell, and although Purgatory would eventually lead to Paradise, it too was feared. Prayers were said and pennies paid to hasten release of the dead from Purgatory. Nor could people openly question these doctrines, for fear of being excommunicated, tortured, and executed.

Underneath was a creeping anxiety that sometimes broke out, but only really emerged on a large scale during the Reformation, concerning a division between God and His Visible Church. On the one hand was personal piety and devotion to the Church caused many to feel that disobedience to the Church was disobedience to God, since the Church was Christ’s Body on earth. Those who knew the Scriptures would reinforce this with episodes such as David’s multiple refusals to kill Saul who, though corrupt and wicked by that point, was still the Lord’s Anointed in David’s eyes. On the other hand, when faced with abuses and cruelty, an inate sense of justice, the conscience, cried out for justice.

Though we live in different times, forms of these problems and questions do persist. Even stripping away our societal and personal concerns, we are faced with grim images of the afterlife of the damned in Scripture. These do not sit well with us for a few reasons.

1. Our natural pride and instinct for self-preservation clouds our judgment. We consider that, in general, people do not commit murder or other very grave sins (and we also lie to ourselves about the gravity of sin), and so we tell ourselves that eternal torment in hell is disproportionate.
2. The images of hell in Scripture frequently involve fire. Fire is one of the most painful forms of execution and torture known to man. Beheading is at least swift and brings an end. A fiery hell is not. It is everlasting and more painful than anything else. This causes fear and makes it hard to love God when contemplated frequently because in our sinful state, we tell ourselves that God is doing this to people. In that thinking, God is painted as a torturer. While our theology tells us that we put ourselves in hell and it is not God who does so, it takes discipline and a spiritual journey to accept that message and hold it firmly. Discipline and rigorous intellect do not sit well in our zeitgeist of emotionalism.
3. The Church has been given over to emotionalism in recent years, which feeds our mental instability and undermines a consistent approach to faith and Scripture. All denominations have been affected by this. They have all witnessed, to greater and lesser extents, the conversion of church from a scene of worship and focus on God into self-help seminars and opportunities for people to make themselves great. This takes various forms, but one of the more prominent ones has been people proclaiming themselves as prophets and flouting authority.
4. The images of hell are very vivid and often in the context of apocalyptic prophecy. There is often, therefore, a question as to the degree to which hyperbole and imagery are used to make a point. In our modern, post-Enlightenment world, it is common to dismiss metaphysical pronouncements of Scripture as so heavily conditioned by ancient mindsets that they are not useful in our context. This is fallacious, but nevertheless more common than we might care to admit. It is often strengthened by foolishness exhibited by sometimes well-meaning (sometimes not-so-well-meaning) fundamentalists in their readings of Genesis and other passages of Scripture. When Scripture or certain forms of its interpretation are made to look foolish, it becomes easier to start emptying Christianity of much of its content, such that it becomes a bland form of monotheism without anything of substance to say.

How are we to respond to all this? As I have stated before, Scripture teaches eternal conscious torment of the damned in hell. I do not see anyway around that. It would be one thing if we had only the ambiguous passages that can be interpreted in an anhiliationist manner – but the authors of Scripture did not leave that option open to us. Certain passages also imply that there definitely will be people cast into the Lake of Fire (at the very least the Beast and False Prophet of Revelation).

We have to accept that and find some way of living with that knowledge. Jock is right about the dangers of neurosis and various practices that have crept into the Church (he mentions Protestant churches generally, but they are also true of Catholicism, which has adopted many practices found in Protestant and Pentacostal churches). While he and I don’t agree on all things, I’m very much with him on this. To the extent necessary, therefore, we need to find a mental discipline and outward focus that allows us to trust God and devote ourselves to the mission in whatever form that may take, be it preaching the Gospel, serving others, or simply praying that God will save people and make right the wrongs of this world.

We also need to shun things that are harmful and beware of false prophets and false teachers within the Church. I am glad that these have been exposed in recent months (particularly those who prophesied that President Trump would win a second term). Scripture tells us not to fear false prophets and the like. That is something we need to take more to heart because these conmen do just that – cause people to fear by playing on the anxiety I described earlier above. “Disbelieve me, and you’re disbelieving God.” If the Scriptural approach over the experiential and emotional one has been criticised as Pharisaical, we can at least commend it for providing a better hedge against manipulation and abuse than the latter.

In reading through the posts here I am often reminded that the Reformation was both painful and irreversible. As an Englishman I never cease to be struck by the role it played in forming a national identity that distanced itself from continental Europe, such that the phrase “the Pope in Rome” became a sneer about a perceived tyrant, rather than the invocation of a pastor charged with the care of Christ’s flock.

The Reformation unleashed civil strife and discord that lasts even to this day. Chalcedon has written about “the last acceptable prejudice” and one only has to trawl the comments section of Cranmer’s blog to find anti-Catholic passages.

Unfortunately there is no going back to a common outward worship shared by all Englishmen. We are called to see through the veil to the spiritual reality that we all partake of the heavenly worship depicted in Revelation 4, whether we use incense and vestments or not, whether we use the Old Tongue or not, whether we tread the ancient stones where prayer has been valid or not. Christ in us the hope of glory is all that ultimately matters. If we truly love Him and each other then satis est.

But seeing with spiritual eyes and being content are hard for us. Nor are we required to pretend we do not have feelings, passions, and convictions. An important question when churches are eventually permitted to assemble once more is how we can express that ineffable spiritual sorrow we are all experiencing at present.

The ancient Israelites donned sackcloth to express repentance and grief. Our churches are in mourning for the sadness of the nation in the face of so much death and hardship. There is a sense in which we need to say before God, “The LORD giveth and the LORD taketh away. Blessed be the name of the LORD.”

As I ponder what it means for us to emerge from this and to face the coming challenges of the end if the age that my heart tells me lie in store, I find myself wishing for something but I know not what. “Miserere Domine”. There will be no gathering of all English Christians into the Anglican Church or the Catholic Church. But perhaps there will be some flame burning gently in our hearts perhaps some inner voice saying “You are all My Children. Hold fast until I come.”

I have been going through the archives again here, reading pieces by Jess, Chalcedon, and Geoffrey (who is missed). As I looked at the pieces and noted the dates of publication, I thought about the debates and arguments this place has seen. I thought about the changes in our personal lives. Then I thought about how I stumbled upon this place and became a contributor.

I believe my first post ever on this site was about how wonderful it is to be part of a local congregation. If one scrolls far back enough in the archives, one can find it here.

That seems an eternity ago now and jarring in the age of church by Zoom and YouTube. Indeed, I personally struggle with the idea of “virtual church” and have not taken to it as others have. I suppose there are various reasons, which I shall not delve into here.

But looking at the old posts which so frequently raised denominational differences, I was struck by the fundamental question of who we are as Christians. Having been involved in the Christian Union and reading a fair amount of apologetics material, as well as having to defend my faith when I was a teacher, I oftentimes think of the differences between Christianity and Judaism and Islam.

Of course, as the regulars here know, it all comes down to the person of Jesus. In Him we find our identity. He is the image of the invisible God, one of my favourite passages if Scripture.

Here we talk about Jesus, but in our prayer closets we talk to Jesus. For me the question of who Jesus is was a driving force in my journey of faith. And as we talk to Jesus, sometimes we ask Him who we are, lost in the waves of our busy lives.

God renamed people in the Bible. Abram became Abraham, Jacob Israel, Simon Peter. Looking at the community here and asking who we are as a community and as individuals, I should like to say that I am grateful to have you in my life and hope that God has used and will use this place, among His various ways, to change us all for the better and make us confident in who we are in Christ.

All things end

When we look at history, our human nature, our vainglory is impressed by our great achievements: economic, legislative, scientific, architectural, musical, artistic, literary, and so on. But a broader view reveals impermanence.

My righteousness is near; my salvation is gone forth, and mine arms shall judge the people; the isles shall wait upon me, and on mine arm shall they trust. Lift up your eyes to the heavens, and look upon the earth beneath: for the heavens shall vanish away like smoke, and the earth shall wax old like a garment, and they that dwell therein shall die in like manner: but my salvation shall be for ever, and my righteousness shall not be abolished. Hearken unto me, ye that know righteousness, the people in whose heart is my law; fear ye not the reproach of men, neither be ye afraid of their revilings. For the moth shall eat them up like a garment, and the worm shall eat them like wool: but my righteousness shall be for ever, and my salvation from generation to generation.

-Isaiah 51:5-8

Dynasties and empires end. The plants die and species become extinct. Languages are lost, cultures destroyed, and economies unravelled. We always stand on the precipice of ruin. It is the hand of the Lord that protects us. He is the I AM, and He will raise us up at the Last Day. It is only in the resurrection and the new heavens and new earth that we will find the Sabbath Rest and permanence we seek.

Ruling the nations

Believers are promised that they will one day rule the nations.

And he that overcometh, and keepeth my works unto the end, to him will I give power over the nations: And he shall rule them with a rod of iron; as the vessels of a potter shall they be broken to shivers: even as I received of my Father. And I will give him the morning star. He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches.

-Revelation 2:26-29

And I saw thrones, and they sat upon them, and judgment was given unto them: and I saw the souls of them that were beheaded for the witness of Jesus, and for the word of God, and which had not worshipped the beast, neither his image, neither had received his mark upon their foreheads, or in their hands; and they lived and reigned with Christ a thousand years. But the rest of the dead lived not again until the thousand years were finished. This is the first resurrection. Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first resurrection: on such the second death hath no power, but they shall be priests of God and of Christ, and shall reign with him a thousand years.

-Revelation 20:4-6

History reveals year after year of unrighteous rule in some part of the world or another. We long for righteous government, but we also know that we are sinners, unable to perfectly keep God’s law. The answer to this problem is in Jesus, the Incarnate Son of God. He knows both the righteousness of God and the weakness of man. He has kept God’s law and He has redeemed a people for God who, through the mystery of grace, are being transformed into the image of Christ. When God’s people are perfected, they will be ready to rule, to realise the purposes of God on this earth.

Looking back and looking forward

Looking back at the works of God strengthens our faith for the future. The great deeds that He has done give us confidence that He will complete His plan and bring in everlasting righteousness, as was promised to Daniel.

We know that things will never be the same again. The world changes and we are marching towards the consummation and restoration of all things. As in times past, the path to the promised hope lies through darkness – but we have been given the light of Christ.

All shall be well

I have enjoyed Jess’ posts on Julian of Norwich and look forward to many more. I would also be interested in seeing posts about Hildegard von Bingen.

Thinking about God’s love and justice and the concept of anger naturally led me to reflect on the Dies Irae and the promised restoration of all things. What does it mean to say that “all things shall be well”?

As orthodox Christians, we can proclaim neither universalism nor annihilationism. We believe in everlasting conscious torment for the unrepentant (those whom our politically incorrect forebears would call “the damned” and “the reprobate”). For them as individuals, it will not be well.

They shall be in everlasting agony. While there may no way around this and we accept that it is necessary for such individuals to be removed from the new heavens and new earth, lest it be spoiled and justice denied, we (and surely God, who is love) must be sad at such an outcome. Indeed, Christ Himself said that the Way is narrow, and that few find eternal life. We might understand “few” in a kind of relative sense; but, on any reading, it presupposes that there will be those who do not find eternal life.

The image found in Revelation of people being cast into the Lake of Fire is a haunting one. To describe all things as being well is to speak in an overall, objective sense about the fate of the cosmos, with the great division between the redeemed and the condemned, on whom “the wrath of God remains” (John 3:36).

Having recently finished reading a book defending the historical reliability of John’s Gospel, I am apt to remind the traditionalists and conservatives here, that the same John who wrote “God is love” is the John who recorded Jesus as speaking about the wrath of God and who received and recorded the visions of Revelation, which include, inter alia, this verse: “Then one of the four living creatures gave to the seven angels seven golden bowls filled with the wrath of God, who lives for ever and ever” (Revelation 15:7, NIV). We must not mischaracterise the wrath of God, but neither must we pretend it is not a concept taught in Scripture.

Trumpets

I am still mulling the post-tribulational framework and will no doubt write more on the subject when I have found some appropriate resources. I would, however, like to set out some initial thoughts.

Post-tribulationists generally posit a parallel unfolding of the seals, trumpets, and bowls of Revelation, rather than the sequential reading espoused by pre-wrathers (and generally pre-tribulationists too). They must of necessity do this because they posit that Christ returns at the seventh trumpet, but the seventh seal clearly depicts his return. Therefore, in their schema, the seventh seal and seventh trumpet are different visions, but describing the same event. This is, as many of them have pointed out, is essentially the same process as we use to harmonise the Four Gospels, in order to dispel potential contradictions.

Revelation is clearly made up of different vision units. In general, I am quite comfortable with the idea that John revisits various events in the narrative to add further detail or show them from other perspectives, and this is consistent with how the Book of Daniel is written too (i.e. different visions given at different times, but describing – more or less – the same things).

However, I have always found Revelation 8:1-6 problematic for the reading of the seals and trumpets as concurrent, since it seems to imply that the trumpets follow the seals. I think, to preserve the concurrent reading, one would have to take 8:2 as indicating a new vision sequence has begun, which is certainly possible, as “And I saw” does seem to indicate new vision units in Revelation. The difficulty I have is as follows.

1. The Day of the LORD clearly comes after Jesus returns (as we see from reading Joel 2 in parallel with the Olivet Discourse and Revelation 6).
2. The Olivet Discourse (using the analogy of Noah) and the Lukan analogy of Lot, clearly depict physical catastrophe befalling the earth after Jesus has resurrected or transformed and gathered the saints.
3. The trumpets and bowls (unlike the seals) clearly describe physical calamities befalling the earth.
4. Therefore, it would make sense to understand these as the Day of the LORD and to place them after Jesus has returned, which is what the pre-wrath framework does.

I think there are a few ways the post-tribulationist can respond to this problem. One is to point out that physical calamities happen already in the present age, before Jesus has returned, so we need not locate the trumpets and/or bowls after the return of Christ simply because they involve physical calamities. Another, which I believe some – but not all – post-tribulationists do, is to make the seals and trumpets concurrent, but not the bowls.

This is a harmonisation the both places physical calamities after the return of Christ and keeps the seventh seal and sevent trumpet as concurrent. However, this view is not universally held by post-tribulationists because the earthquake at the seventh bowl is usually identified with the earthquake at the seventh trumpet, on the grounds of simplicity.

Lastly, I wanted to comment on post-tribulationism’s identification of the seventh trumpet of Revelation with the “last trumpet” mentioned by Paul in 1 Thessalonians 4. As many have pointed out, Revelation was written some time after 1 Thessalonians. Furthermore, Paul does not give additional detail about the last trumpet itself. Accordingly there are different theories about what he may have meant. This makes it hard to be sure that the last trumpet in Paul’s writings is the same as the seventh trumpet in Revelation. That being said, I have no firm opinion either way at this time.

Faith is often discussed in propositional, epistemological terms in philosophy of religion. The University debate, which dealt with logical positivism, enquired into the nature of religious belief. Wittgenstein, discussing religious language, asked what kind of propositions religious propositions were. John Hick considered whether faith was not so much assent to propositions (the medieval fideist framework), but a faculty of interpretation, by which we make sense of experience, being influenced by Kantian transcendentalism. He also rejected logical positivism by arguing that religious propositions were capable of eschatological verification.

In this post-Enlightenment age where atheism is socially acceptable (at least in certain countries), we are more likely to encounter opposition to religious faith generally and Christianity in particular. Faced with challenges to our faith, we can search for answers, push on blindly, become agnostic, or actively deny faith. The last two are generally considered a form of apostasy as far as outward appearance is concerned, but we also know that Christ searches for the lost sheep and that with Him all things are possible: He can find what was lost.

The arguments against our faith (or doubts that we experience) can be grouped into a two basic categories:

• Attacks on the a posteriori evidence for Christian claims (e.g. asking where is the evidence of the Israelites’ 40-year sojourn in the wilderness); and
• Attacks on the analytic coherence of Christianty (i.e. suggesting that there are contradictions in our theology).

Our temperament, experience, and intellect shape our response to these challenges. People who embrace a form of virtue epistemology (whether they realise they are doing so or not), probably tend to be more troubled than certain others when they are faced with a question they cannot answer. This is because virtue epistemology (as the name implies) sits at the conjunction of ethics and epistemology. It teaches that we know things when we have used our intellectual virtues to acquire the subject of the knowledge. In other words, inter alia, it means that we should believe the right thing for the right reason having applied ourselves to the task. When framed in these terms, this appears to be a high standard (arguably too high), and tends to remind one of the “scupulosity” experienced by Martin Luther and characteristic of certain forms of Protestantism.

Frequently it feels as if we are attacked on all sides. When seeking an answer, sometimes we are faced with silence; sometimes we are so distracted or perturbed that we have difficulty discerning the voice of God.

Within the Church, life is made harder by abuses: false prophets, scandals, and certain kinds of fundamentalism that will neither listen to reasoned argument nor offer comfort to those struggling with the intellectual aspect of faith. Sometimes being provided with a wrong answer is worse than not being provided with an answer at all.

The bible tells us to look always to Jesus, and says that He will perfect the work that He has begun in us. In the here and now spinning as we are from the fundamental changes to our way of living brought about by the disease, we find ourselves asking these uncomfortable questions more often than we would under normal conditions. The truth is, as St Peter once voiced, there is nowhere else to go. There is either Christ or there is nothing. No third option is left to us.

Archbishop Cranmer produced a recent post likening the extreme devotion to President Trump found in some circles to a religious cult. For the avoidance of doubt, while I did not agree with the President on all points, I greatly admire him and consider that he was the best thing politically to happen to America since the advent of the Tea Party (not that I agreed with its entire platform or the simplifications its members were sometimes apt to make). For my American friends, I would also like to recommend this post on next steps. Back to Cranmer: as I read the article, I was struck by the deep need for belonging and community that causes some people to join cults and sects rather than more “mainstream” organisations.

As Christians, most of us are struck from time to time by the level of community we see in the Gospels, relative to our own lives. By this, I mean that most of us live ordinary lives with ordinary social relationships. These can, of course, be very profound, and my intention is not to suggest they are of lesser value (far from it). But when it comes to religion, most of us do not spend all our time with other members of church in the way that the Disciples did with each other and Christ when they travelled with Him in Judea, Samaria and Galilee.

In addition, most of our relationships are not entwined with the kind of Messianic expectation and fervour that characterises eschatological cults. Hope and despair are powerful forces, and entertaining them can cause significant changes in one’s behaviour. Furthermore, we also have damaged and unpleasant relationships in this life, ranging from low-level friction to much more serious conflict.

So we can understand, even if not ultimately condone, why people join cults and sects. We can see the appeal: unity, clarity, devotion, belonging, community, hope, vision, and support. Of course, there are also special communities that we would call legitimate, such as monastic communities. These communities remind us, perhaps in a fashion their architects did not envision, of the Age to Come. They are apocalyptic symbols of the changes that will one day come to our relationships when Christ returns, just as they are of the community that exists invisibly in heaven among the Church Triumphant, which eagerly awaits the resurection and makes intercession for the Church Militant below.

We find ourselves longing for the transformation of our relationships and wider society. There is so much evil and destruction in the world. Sin comes from within, like a miasmic wind blowing from the cavernous depths of the human heart. In fighting against sin and hoping for the Age to Come, we are apt to become cynical and hardened: grieved and angered at every disappointment, from the big ones in the political arena to the everyday struggles of church, home, and workplace.

I think it is also very easy to feel alone, especially in this period of lockdowns and “social distancing” (which always struck me as an oxymoronic phrase). We are blessed to have the twin communities of AATW and NEO, where conservatives like us can share our thoughts and feelings. We are also blessed with other forms of communication among friends for matters that are more personal. It is important that we keep these relationships going, because we need every kind of strength that the good Lord provides. We are a community and we need to keep saying that.

The days ahead are going to be very difficult and we are not necessarily promised an answer in this life. The living hope of Christ within us is ultimately founded on the resurrection of Christ and His saints, and the Age to Come.

The Seventh Trumpet will one day sound: “The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of His Messiah, and He will reign forever and ever.” Gloria Deo Omnipotenti: Patri et Filio et Spiritui Sancto – nunc et sempiternam, in saecula saeculorum. Amen.

Post script

I have recently been reading about the post-tribulational framework and may one day write about it when I have ordered my thoughts. For now, just bear that in mind if re-reading my previous eschatological posts, which are written from a pre-wrath perspective. The two view-points are actually fairly close (i.e. they overlap on a lot of points).