If you grew up in a staunch Christian household, you must have been surrounded by talk of the world ending, based on “the signs,” that usually contain a dismal array of epic happenings, recalling biblical threats that promise the heralded return of Jesus Christ, just in time to save “the saved” from earth’s timed combustion.
As a child and imaginative teen, I never took any of these warnings seriously because at that age you’re blissfully protected from the ability to acutely assess the imminent danger of a failing universal system, that’s buckling under the strain of gross negligence with the added deadliness of social disharmony.
Now that I am a fully grown adult with almost half of my life behind me, the rumors of the world coming to an end sooner rather than later are swirling again, and this time, there is no little girl drowning out the loud murmurs with the help of an over-used walkman.
There is only streams and streams of blatant imagery that depict drowning villages, battered cities, and the wails and screams of terrorized souls, both dead and living.
There’s no escape from the Hi-Res collage of global catastrophes that continue to filter in and out of Moments, that have been designed to assault senses into submission when it comes to high-tolerance web surfing.
When a large jetliner literally falls from the sky and buries human bodies in unidentifiable graves, you wonder if the heavens rejected the responsibility of reminding God about the duty of furnishing those angels that we talk so much about.
When Easter Sunday brings out the throngs of worshippers who are strategically positioned in buildings, that were built in the name of the Lord, but blasted in the name of Lucifer, the magnitude of that holy betrayal never fades from the views of those who feel too much.
When mammoth storms rearrange populations, by tossing little bodies against swinging debris, as the waves overpower marine life, swelling with the wreckage of the earth, tucked in assaulted bellies, as the earth releases even more poison from reckless inhabitants; the only assumption comes from the grief-stricken verses that resurrect memory with fiery endorsement of a world that’s barely standing on its last legs.
Seriously, why haven’t we explored the strong likelihood that the world is coming to an end?
Yes, the potency of web surfing has allowed for shortened attention span, that has manifested into the expertise of being able to race through content with the speed that can only recognize what’s trending, while ignoring bleeding items, begging for the healing empathy that never comes.
We have become incapacitated with the inundation of meaningless information that has crippled the process of deciphering the truth from glaring untruths.
Imagine that an entire weekend and some days were spent on the make-believe script drafted by Kris Jenner, and approved by longtime producer Ryan Seacrest. It depicted the featured character of a young Black woman, being unfairly outnumbered by the Kardashian/Jenner White women in Black coverings, and how that narrative successfully trapped the interests of intelligent minds that soberly failed at dodging the oldest trick in the book.
There is so much anger on social media platforms, where being social can actually kill you, due to the empowerment of hate groups led by the revitalization of White nationalism, and the enhancement of tools by sinister creators, who pay congratulatory visits to bullish leaders, for effectively misusing the power they wield for the fright fest of targeted innocents.
There’s no adherence to the standards that used to make it impossible for upstanding consumers to shamelessly partake of the spread from vile institutions like The New York Post, that disgustingly posted a disgraceful and unpatriotic cover, demeaning the reverence of 9/11 for the scheme of demonizing the worth of a Muslim-American Congresswoman, who is more American than Americans who simply look the part.
The disease of extremism has become the virus of our time, as religious factions illustrate what happens when extremists distort the statutes of a chosen faith, that can’t be elevated with bomb explosions that leave nothing but bloodied death zones, freezing into hellish domaines.
Evangelicals profess the love of Christ, without the bravery of dramatizing what that means when Black churches are grazed to the ground by one of their own, or when White men terrorize communities that contain lives that have been deemed expendable by White preacher men, and their badged followers bulldozing streets of America.
The uptick of natural disasters around the globe might be the most telling sign of all, that our lifespan is dwindling, when you watch the sky go through erratic tides with rapid moodiness, and hear about buildings uprooting and running away, only to crash with bodies clinging for life.
And perhaps the Anti-Christ in the seat of absolute power, whose prophetic ascension and initiation of warfare, that propels the narrative in the Book of Revelation, where the second coming of Christ is noted as the last resort to rescue believers from the impeccable beast, will be the everlasting proof that will turn unbelievers to the only shining star in a burning sky.
When shit gets too real, all at once, we turn to fantastical translations to interpret what has scarily evolved into the unexplainable.
But perhaps the best approach is to avoid the potential savior of a refurbished “Noah’s Ark” and settle on the more feasible aspect of “world without end” with the responsibility of earthlings who have no business wondering about the end of something that can’t be claimed forever.
We come and we go, but while we’re here, let us at least care enough to make it all worthwhile.
Empathy. Knowledge. Action.