Mark 13:1-31 · Signs of the End of the Age
Birthing the Kingdom
Mark 13:1-31
Sermon
by Cathy A. Ammlung
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I for one am heartily glad that the millennium (and its attendant madness) is well behind us. I'm glad that the millennium comes only once in a, well, millennium. The major reason for my relief is that I became sick of "Millennium Fever" and the doom-saying prophecies that (mercifully) did not come to pass. 

End of the world prophecies are nothing new, of course. They were around for centuries before our Lord was born. They exist in most major religions and cults. And every time a new disaster -- of natural origin or human construction -- is inflicted on the world, a fresh spate of doomsday predictors makes the rounds. The cynic in me figures that someday, someone is bound to guess right. It was weirdly refreshing to hear one recent prophet of doom apologize for misreading "the signs of the times." He'd actually predicted that, just before the turn of the millennium, Jesus Christ would not only return to earth but would be a guest on this gentleman's talk show! Oops.

Many Christians are fascinated by end time prophecies. They search the books of Daniel, Ezekiel, and especially Revelation for hints and signals that the Lord is coming to end history and usher in the Day of the Lord, a day of darkness not light, and of judgment and wrath for those who oppose the reign of God. The popularity of the Left Behind series of books, co-authored by Tim LaHaye, highlights the intensity of this interest.

Probably an equal number of Christians are turned off by discussions of time-lines, dispensations, pre- versus post-tribulationism, the rapture, and assorted other end time esoterica. Their rallying cry is Jesus' comment that not even the Son knows the day or hour, but only the Father. They're a bit repulsed by biblical apocalypse. And so to hear Jesus talk about wars and rumors of wars; to hear Jesus solemnly say "the end is still to come"; to hear this Gospel text -- well, let's just say that many good people would rather not hear any of this!

But of course we must hear Jesus' words and struggle with them. We're his disciples or else we think we'd like to be. And Mark's Gospel puts these hard words of our Lord in the last week of Jesus' life, when everything he says and does is brought to its sharpest, most piercing peak. Jesus wasn't a mere armchair speculator offering his opinion about what is to come. He wasn't spouting theories for examination and argument. Instead, he was preparing his followers for the challenges they'd face after his own death and resurrection.

The forces of sin and evil aren't going to roll over and play dead because Jesus broke their back upon the cross. With their final strength, they protest, defy, and oppose our Lord and the Kingdom he establishes. The disciples may confidently step into the world with the Good News, knowing that Jesus had indeed won the war; but they aren't to be fooled. Battles and dangers loom ahead, as sinful people and broken creation itself fight a rearguard action against Christ's claim upon them.

In Jesus' opening words, heard today, he sketches out several threats. Later he'll deal with some of them at greater length. Some of the dangers are associated with a singular disaster that was looming upon them: the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. It happened in 70 A.D. Others are ongoing dangers: persecution of his followers, and the rise of false leaders and prophets within the community of faith itself. And of course there is the turmoil that intensifies as "the end" itself approaches and opposition to God's coming Kingdom reaches its climax. 

Two things amaze me. First, Jesus is so matter-of-fact about it all. These terrible things will happen. Jesus doesn't apologize for them or pretend that his followers will be immune to their dangers. He doesn't go on about "ain't it awful, how the world is going to hell in a handbasket." He simply reminds his followers to beware. These things must happen; they're to be expected. Don't be caught off guard when they come. 

But the other amazing thing is Jesus' calm confidence. He sees in these dreadful things not a world gone haywire, not a disease process that will end in corruption and death, and not a pointless and terrifying descent into chaos before God finally steps in to end it all. Instead he says, "This is but the beginning of the birth pangs" (v. 8). 

With these simple words, Jesus puts the entire discussion squarely in a new framework. This must happen; this is the beginning of the birth pangs. In his commentary on the Gospel of Mark, Donald Juel states it with succinct accuracy: "The necessity is viewed here as due to the decision of God -- the same necessity that stands over Jesus' career ... The necessity that governs the future is reason to take heart if God is to be trusted -- which is the point of Jesus' instructions and of Mark's Gospel."1 

The necessity that governs the future is reason to take heart if God is to be trusted. What a remarkable truth that is for us anxious post-millennial Christians to savor! If God is who he says he is, if God really is the One whom Jesus revealed, then God is in control no matter what hell seems to be breaking loose.

God knows what terrible dangers loom over his broken world. Wars and rumors of war, terrorist acts, famines, earthquakes, and plagues are the steady headline diet we ingest every day. Any person of good will, Christian or non-Christian, prays for peace and healing, and is dismayed by the intensity of violence, hatred, suspicion, and sheer human suffering seen on every side. How easy it is to become discouraged to the point of despair: our best efforts at peacemaking are constantly overwhelmed and despised. How easy it is to believe that God doesn't care or can't act. How astonishing -- and bracing! -- it is to hear Jesus tell us: This must happen. Do not be alarmed. These are birth pangs, not just death throes.

Now we must be careful here, because the last thing we want to say is that God wills and desires bloodshed, mayhem, and disaster. God isn't a sadist. And yet if we look at the model of Jesus' own passion and death, don't we see Jesus' words acted out before us? Jesus said that he must be handed over; must be betrayed, mocked, and scourged; must suffer death on a cross. He also announced, in almost the same breath, and with astonishing conviction, that he would be raised from death on the third day; that he would give his life as a ransom for many; that he would bring to suffering, broken humanity the life and forgiveness and Kingdom of God, by means of his death and resurrection.

God took what otherwise would be deemed utter disaster, utter evil, utter awful sinfulness -- and fashions it into the crucible in which his Son forged our salvation. And, because of that, and on the strength of that great and terrible act, God now takes what is horrible, God-despising, and death-dealing in our lives and communities and world -- and fashions these things and no others into the birth pangs of his new creation. 

Frankly, I'm not sure whether to be appalled, exalted, comforted, or energized -- or maybe all of the above! But at the brink of his own passion and death, Jesus speaks of the passion of the world and, more particularly, of his followers. He holds out no easy comfort. How could he, who agonized in a garden and on a cross before entrusting his will and his life into his Father's keeping? Those who follow him can expect no less hostility and tumult. 

And yet Jesus himself emerged from a tomb as from a womb, which unexpectedly and gloriously ushered an entirely new sort of life into our world. He is the firstborn of a new creation, and the old creation groans in labor pains for our redemption and for its own deliverance from futility (Romans 8:20-23). Because Jesus' own anguish, death, and resurrection have embraced the world in all its brokenness and sin, something entirely new and unexpectedly glorious has happened. Upheaval, persecution, and disaster will not have the last word over his beloved people. What the world, the devil, and even our sinful selves try to make into a tomb our Lord transforms into a womb. 

Terrible things will happen; they are no less painful because of Jesus' words and work. We can still be torn apart by controversy and wounded by betrayal. Persecution still happens, even in the supposedly civilized twenty-first century. Like a woman gasping in anguish hour after hour, struggling to deliver a breech baby into the world, creation and humanity also cry out in fear and anguish. God's new creation certainly is long a-borning!

And yet, it is coming to birth. We are coming to birth! Because of Jesus, firstborn of the new creation, we are assured that this will not be a stillbirth. Because Jesus has joined us to himself, we can cry out and know we are heard and answered; we can grieve yet not without hope; we can face the worst the world throws at us and not despair. We can endure the painful small insults and rebuffs with forgiveness and fortitude. We can weather the natural disasters with generous and merciful concern for others. We can withstand human brutality with faithful witness, confident hope -- and with a passionate commitment to justice, so that others may be spared. We can do these things because God has promised that he will make sense of it all. God will bring life from our deathly experiences. God will turn the world's tombs into the womb of his new creation. We can pray with his suffering Church in all times and places, with longing and joyful confidence, "Even so, Lord, quickly come! Amen!"


1. Donald Juel, Mark: Augsburg Commentary on the New Testament (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1990), p. 176.

CSS Publishing Company, Sermons for Sundays after Pentecost, by Cathy A. Ammlung