Last Word: Extinction

Two triangles merge to make the symbol of an hourglass – the end is nigh! From New York to Paris the chants and banners herald an ‘inconvenient truth’. An Australian protester speaks with passion and reason: ‘We are simply telling people what to expect. Our politicians are asleep at the wheel. We need to tell the truth.’

Yet, as I watched the Extinction Rebellion demonstrations in my own city, I couldn’t shift the overriding emotion – ‘Have these people just taken my job?’ For if we are Christians, we are those who know that the end is nigh. This end will not arise because of any increasing ocean acidification or glacial retreat, but rather because the Judge is at the door (James 5:9). The message of climate change is vital (we are to be good stewards of creation), but it cannot be equated with the immanent and glorious return of Christ. And it is this inconvenient truth that really is the grounds for waking up those are asleep at the wheel.

However we must confess that many of us are light years away from super-gluing ourselves to an inner-city ring road. And in some senses, that’s absolutely right. We do not speak the truth in love by ‘blocking up the system,’ thus preventing ambulances from attending medical emergencies. However, the passionate protests of the past few weeks have made me wonder if British evangelicals are willing to suffer at all in light of the end.

Indeed, as I listened, one morning, to BBC Radio 4’s Today programme, I was struck by an interview with a group of dissenting pensioners from Totnes in Devon, who were about to descend on the capital. One elderly gentleman from the renegade group said: ‘I have been a very law-abiding citizen throughout my life. [But] now I am prepared to do something different.’ Another said, ‘[Last April] I was arrested and was put in a cell. [But] I am very glad … at my age to make a

statement which will enable me to hold my head up high to my grandchildren.’ One 83-year-old lady from Hastings (who was arrested during the October protests) said: ‘This was not fun for me. I am old and it was very painful and difficult. But I had no choice.’ Remarkably, many folk – many law-abiding elderly folk from pleasant coastal towns at that – were willing to suffer because they were determined that the nations might know the truth.

Such suffering, that comes as result of speaking about the end, is exactly what Jesus called his disciples to (Luke 21:9-13). We must not forget that telling people that they must quickly change course is always a painful occupation. It was painful for disciples in the first century, and it is painful for disciples in the 21st century. Today it might be the pain of awkwardness at the coffee shop. It might be the pain of avoidance in the staff room. It might be the pain of arrest in the future. But in these last days, because we love others, we speak with heads held high to our grandchildren, warning our generation of the end – even if that means suffering.

Hope; no doom

Yet, as we look to the example of Extinction Rebellion, we must also remember that our message is not the same. Certainly, disaster is reserved for those who continue to reject the coming King, but we do not trumpet a message of doom.

The hope of Christ’s return is a far cry from the hopelessness of Greta Thunberg’s prophecy: ‘I don’t want you to be hopeful. I want you to panic. I want you to feel the fear I feel every day … I want you to act as you would in a crisis. I want you to act as if our house is on fire. Because it is.’

For Christ’s prophecy is not about a coming fall – an imminent autumn of endless rain and flooding. Nor does Jesus forecast a nuclear winter. Instead he says, ‘Learn this lesson from the fig tree: As soon as its twigs get tender and its leaves come out, you know that … summer is near (Mark 13:28).’

The message of Christianity is to get ready for a forthcoming summer in the new heaven and the new earth.

‘The gates are drawn apart’

C.S. Lewis penned it perfectly when he wrote the poem, What the Bird Said Early in the Year:

I heard in Addison’s Walk a bird sing clear, This year the summer will come true. This year. This year.

Winds will not strip the blossom from the apple trees, This year nor want of rain destroy the peas.

This year time’s nature will no more defeat you, Nor all the promised moments in their passing cheat you.

This time they will not lead you round and back, To Autumn one year older by the well-worn track.

This year, this year, as all these flowers foretell, We shall escape the circle and undo the spell.

Often deceived yet open once again your heart, Quick, quick, quick, quick – the gates are drawn apart.