How Our End Times Beliefs Shape Our Ethics
A Call Back to Our Theology of Peace
If you grew up in the American church, chances are you've encountered the Left Behind books or movies. These stories, dramatizing the rapture, a global tribulation, and Jesus' return to establish a kingdom in Jerusalem, reflect a dispensational interpretation of Scripture. They weren't just fiction—they shaped the theological imagination of millions. But beneath the suspense and spectacle lies a system of belief known as Christian Zionism, one that has profoundly reshaped how many Christians interpret Scripture, view Israel, and understand the end of the world.
This blog post is the first in a series exploring Christian Zionism and its effects on Christian theology, political behavior, and witness. But this series isn’t ultimately about Israel. It’s about something deeper: how bad theology kills. Theology is never neutral. What we believe about God, history, and the end profoundly shapes how we live—and who gets harmed in the process.
Many who hold to Christian Zionist views do so sincerely, out of a desire to honor Scripture, support the Jewish people, and remain faithful to what they were taught. These motivations are not malicious—they reflect a longing to do right. This series is not a condemnation of those who’ve absorbed these ideas, but an invitation to examine them in the light of the gospel.
Today, I want to offer a gentle but firm call back to a more faithful, peace-shaped vision of the end times—a vision grounded not in fear, war, and nationalism, but in the crucified and risen Lamb.
A Note on Love and Theology
Before we go further, let me be clear: this is not a critique of the Jewish people, whose history, Scriptures, and prophetic witness we deeply honor. Jesus himself was a Jew. So were Paul, Peter, and every early disciple. The problem is not with Jewish identity; it is with Zionist theology—a political reading of Scripture that replaces the gospel of peace with a gospel of war.
The people of God has always been defined not by ethnicity, but by faith—by those who walk in the footsteps of Abraham (Galatians 3:7–9; Romans 9:6–8). To critique Christian Zionism is not to oppose Israel or the Jewish people, but to return Jesus—not nationalism or political timelines—to the center of our theology.
At its worst, Christian Zionism treats the Jewish people as pawns in a prophetic script—necessary actors in a divine drama that ends with war, devastation, and mass death. Some versions of this theology teach that Jesus will return to kill all who do not believe in him, including many Jews—a teaching rooted in certain interpretations of Revelation 19 and influenced by dispensational frameworks. For example, many dispensational teachers—including John Hagee—interpret Zechariah 13:8–9 as predicting that two-thirds of Jews will die during the Great Tribulation, and the remaining third will come to faith in Jesus. This reading portrays Jewish suffering as both inevitable and redemptive, positioning Jews as instruments of a violent prophetic script and as targets of end-times judgment. This is not just bad theology—it echoes deeply antisemitic patterns cloaked in religious language. It does not honor Jewish lives; it exploits them.
What Is Christian Zionism?
Christian Zionism teaches that God's redemptive plan hinges on the restoration of modern political Israel and its central role in the end times. It is rooted in dispensational premillennialism, a 19th-century doctrine popularized by John Nelson Darby and later by the Scofield Reference Bible (1909).
This theology tells a particular story: believers will be raptured; Israel will be attacked by enemies; global war will erupt; and Jesus will return to establish a thousand-year reign from Jerusalem. These ideas were popularized in evangelical culture by the Left Behind series, which shaped how millions of Christians think about the end times—even if they don’t know the theology behind it.
While not all who sympathize with Christian Zionism hold every detail of this view, they often share a core assumption: that modern political Israel is the prophetic key to the end of the age, and that war in the Middle East is not a tragedy to grieve, but a sign to welcome.
A Better, Older Story: What Do We Believe?
By contrast, many of us—whether we’ve named it or not—hold to what Christians have historically called amillennialism. This is the belief that the “millennium” in Revelation 20 is not a future literal kingdom, but a symbolic description of Christ’s present reign from heaven.
This was the dominant view of the early church after the second century, especially through the influence of Augustine, and it shaped the theology of the Reformers and many traditions today. Amillennialism teaches that Jesus will return once, to raise the dead, judge the world, and renew creation—not to establish a political kingdom in one place.
In this view, Revelation is not a secret code or a roadmap to war, but a pastoral and prophetic vision for persecuted Christians living under empire. The beast is not a future dictator—it is every empire that opposes the way of the Lamb. And the Lamb, not the lion, is the one who reigns (Revelation 5:6).
When Our Politics Undermine Our Theology
Sometimes we say things that sound like faithful Christian concern. But if we trace them to their implications, they quietly betray the gospel we claim to believe.
When you say that modern political Israel must be surrounded by enemies before Jesus returns, you are suggesting that war and devastation are necessary steps toward redemption. That peacemaking delays God’s plan, and war might fulfill it. But Jesus said, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God” (Matthew 5:9).
When you excuse or justify the actions of modern political Israel in the name of prophecy, you replace the centrality of Christ with the centrality of a nation-state. Scripture says, “He himself is our peace… and has broken down the dividing wall” (Ephesians 2:14). God's promises are fulfilled not through borders and bloodlines, but through the new creation in Christ.
When you say that criticism of modern political Israel’s policies is antisemitic, you risk silencing the prophetic tradition—the tradition of Isaiah, Amos, Jeremiah, and Jesus. These were not enemies of Israel; they were its conscience. As Jesus demonstrated when he overturned the tables in the temple, prophetic action often confronts the false belief that religious identity or sacred space can shield us from the consequences of injustice. His message echoed the prophets before him: God is not pleased with empty rituals while the poor are exploited and the vulnerable are trampled (cf. Jeremiah 7:1–11; Matthew 21:12–13).
When you equate advocacy for Palestinians with support for terrorism, you erase the humanity of a suffering people. God hears the cry of the oppressed (Exodus 3:7). Every person bears God’s image—Jew and Arab, Israeli and Palestinian.
What We Believe About the End Shapes How We Live Now
How we read Scripture—especially Revelation—matters. It doesn’t just shape our theology; it forms our ethics. We cannot separate what we believe from how we live—our vision of the end will shape our posture toward peace, justice, and violence today. As Michael J. Gorman writes, "Revelation is not about a rapture out of this world but about faithful discipleship in this world."
If we believe the end of the story is destruction, we begin to normalize it. We look for signs of war instead of working for peace. We expect Jesus to return with a sword to kill, rather than with healing.
But the Jesus Revelation reveals is not the lion who devours. He is the Lamb who was slain, standing at the center of the throne (Revelation 5:6). His robe is dipped in blood—his own blood, not that of his enemies (Revelation 19:13). He conquers not through domination, but through self-giving love (Philippians 2:5–11).
As the Bible Project rightly emphasizes, Revelation is not a blueprint for end-times warfare. As Eugene Peterson puts it, "Revelation does not divert us from the world in which we live but pulls us deeper into it." It is a pastoral call to faithful, nonviolent witness in the midst of empire. It offers hope, not terror. It promises that Jesus will return not to destroy the world, but to renew it:
“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth… He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more” (Revelation 21:1–4).
That is our hope. That is our gospel.
A Call Back to the Lamb
We are not children of prophecy charts or political alliances. We are not children of war. We are children of Abraham—not by blood, but by faith.
So let us return to our story—not a new theology, but an ancient one. Let us remember that the kingdom of God is not ushered in by violence, but by the cross. Let us reject every theology that teaches us to long for war. And let us live now as citizens of the kingdom that is already coming, where swords become ploughshares, where tears are wiped away, and where peace is not postponed—but embodied.
Disclaimer: The ideas and arguments in this piece are my own. AI-assisted drafting was used to enhance coherence and organization, ensuring clarity in the presentation of these concepts.