Introduction (Historical Context)
We’ve jumped forward again, and we’ve left behind some great debates. And because of this jump, it’s harder to capture the context again.
But the lectionary does this on purpose. As we move toward the end of the church year and into St. Martin’s Lent (the six weeks before Christmas, beginning with St. Martin’s Day on November 11), the apocalyptic texts begin to emerge. These readings are not meant to frighten us but to prepare us, not just for Advent, but for the deeper hope that Advent holds. We are intentionally being pulled into the season of preparation. So, how do we lean into the apocalyptic tone of this week?
Each of the synoptic Gospels includes one of these apocalyptic sections, just before turning to the Passion story. These aren’t random warnings about future disasters. They are theologically charged attempts to bring meaning to the chaos, persecution, and uncertainty of the early Christian experience. What Jesus is about to go through, the Church will too.
Scholars increasingly note how deeply the early church was shaped by apocalyptic literature and Second Temple writings. That’s because apocalypticism provided meaning when the world seemed to be falling apart. Luke, Matthew, and even Revelation, are all written within a few decades of each other (roughly 80–110 CE), in the wake of Jerusalem’s destruction and amid Roman persecution. The question under all of it is the same: ‘How do we make sense of the Good News when the world is coming undone?’
In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus looks at the temple (the heart of religious and cultural life) and predicts its destruction. For his listeners, that would have been unthinkable. Yet Jesus reframes the end not as a loss of faith, but as an opportunity to testify. In other words, when the stones fall, the story isn’t over. God is not finished.
Personal Aside
A few years ago, I was teaching at a confirmation retreat at Mar-Lu-Ridge. About forty confirmands and twenty adults gathered to study the Bible, not by trying to take in all sixty-six books, but by looking at the stories told at the Easter Vigil.
For those unfamiliar, the Vigil is the night before Easter. In the early Christian tradition, the three days leading up to Easter Sunday were a time to keep Vigil. To watch, wait, and to tell the story of God’s power, love, and redemption for all creation. This was especially significant because the church was preparing newcomers for baptism. They would tell the great stories of their tradition, stories of God’s promise and faithfulness, to welcome these new believers into the family of God. It was a passing down of wisdom and faith through storytelling, a practice born in a time when fear, persecution, and even death were daily realities for the early church.
So we read through those stories: Creation, the Flood, Abraham and Isaac, the Exodus, Jonah and the whale, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the fiery furnace, Ezekiel in the valley of dry bones, and finally, Jesus’ resurrection.
But for our first reading of each, we stopped halfway through:
We stopped with the floodwaters still covering the earth.
We stopped with Abraham lifting the knife over Isaac.
We stopped with Jonah trapped in the belly of the whale.
We stopped with the three friends standing inside the fire.
We stopped with Ezekiel surrounded by dry bones.
We stopped with Jesus laid in the tomb.
At that point, I asked the confirmands, “Why would these stories, full of destruction and despair, be the foundation of our faith?”
After a brief silence, one of them said, “Because that’s not where the story ends.”
That’s the Gospel, right there. That’s what Jesus is telling his disciples in Luke 21. The temple will fall. You will be persecuted. Nations will rise against nations. Friends will betray friends. But that’s not where the story ends.
God has always been in the business of creating new life out of devastation. That’s what the Easter Vigil reminds us of. That’s what apocalyptic literature proclaims. It’s not a prediction of doom, it’s a promise that even when everything crumbles, God is still creating.
Preaching Possibility
Telling the Story
I don’t need to tell you all the ways it feels like the world is crumbling, right? Political chaos. Food insecurity and hunger. Wars and violence. Natural disasters. You know it all.
But as I said a few weeks ago, we can’t be naïve about these things either. There has never been a time in history (or a life) that hasn’t faced hardship. Each of us will encounter despair: sickness, broken relationships, grief, and loss. As a society and as a nation, we will continue to face division and conflict, both within and beyond our borders.
Yet God does not leave us to despair. God’s story has always, and will always, bring forth hope and new life, through God’s presence among us and through the community of Christ that walks beside us.
Our text today reminds us that even though the first disciples faced persecution, conflict, and hatred, they endured. They continued to testify to God’s love and goodness. Their hope, hope in God’s promises and in a world being made new, became the foundation of our faith, passed down from generation to generation.
We sit here today because they kept telling the story, the Good News of Jesus Christ, even in the most challenging times. They shared hope in the midst of despair.
And so can we. When we experience God’s love and grace in our own lives, we are called to share it. We can be hope for those who are hurting.
And if you are in that place of hurt or despair today, hear this: you are not alone. God’s story of hope and new life is for you. God’s grace and mercy are for you. And this community is here for you.
Remember: out of chaos came creation. After the flood came God’s promise. Against all odds, Israel reached the promised land. The fiery furnace did not consume Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. The dry bones lived again. And after three long days, Jesus rose.
God does not stop the story at despair. God is always in the business of bringing forth hope and new life. As resurrection people, that’s our business too.
So let’s go forth into a world that often feels like it’s ending, bearing bold and courageous witness to the hope of Jesus Christ.
Micah Krey 
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