Swept Away

For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man. Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left [Matthew 24:38-40].

Although more than 53 years have come and gone since that evening in March 1969, I remember it more vividly than I do today’s lunch. My term paper for Mrs. Johnston’s senior English class was due in about a week. Never one to do today what could be postponed until tomorrow, I was behind in my research. And so, after supper, on a crisp March evening, I traveled into town and sauntered into the main reading room of the modest Gaston County Public Library. Taking perhaps ten steps and turning to my right, where the English literature reference books were shelved, I suddenly saw her. She was no more than three feet away.

We’d first met in the seventh grade. We attended different schools, but we’d both been enrolled in a cotillion-like class designed to teach the boys some manners and the girls some grace in ballroom dancing. I didn’t dance often with her that year. You see, in the seventh grade, she was 5’6”, whereas I was only 5’2”.

By the spring of my senior year at Huss High, I had grown to almost 5’11”. She was still 5’6” and attended rival Ashley High. During our high school years, we’d run into each other on two or three occasions. We’d even talked for a while and danced together at a party during our sophomore year, but since our respective circles of friends didn’t overlap, neither did our paths.

Yet, on that March 1969 evening, I found myself mesmerized by the slender girl with long brown hair and wonderfully expressive, dark blue eyes—oh, those eyes. She turned to me and smiled, offering a simple, “Hi.”

I recall feeling not a little light-headed. My knees seemed to weaken just a bit. Those of you who know me know that I’m generally not at a loss for words, but at that moment, the synapses within my brain were misfiring. Searching for something nonchalant to say, all I could utter was a tentative, “Uh, oh, uh, Hi Jane.”

Any hope for English lit research was gone that evening; I’d been swept away.

Swept away—in the Gospel reading appointed for this Sunday, Matthew 24:36-44 [the First Sunday of Advent, Revised Common Lectionary, Year A], Jesus describes a different kind of “swept away” experience. He’s using apocalyptic language—the Gospel reading for the First Sunday of Advent always anticipates the Parousia, or Second Coming of Christ. The context of His remarks is somewhat nuanced. Earlier in the chapter, Jesus had told His disciples that the temple would be destroyed, that not one stone would be left stacked upon another [24:2]. Inquiring minds wanted to know, of course, “when will this be, and what will be the sign of [His] coming and of the end of the age?” [24:3].

For the most part, Jesus had refused to give them a specific answer. He told them of forthcoming persecutions, of false prophets and imposters. Then, in this week’s reading, Jesus provides an “answer” that to most isn’t much of an answer at all.

But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father [24:36].

Swept away—He continues that the coming of the Son of Man will be like it was in the days of Noah. At that time, the people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, “until the day Noah entered the ark” [24:38]. “They knew nothing until the flood waters came and swept them all away” [24:39]. Jesus adds that it will be the same with the coming of the Son of Man.

Two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left [24:40-41].

For years now, I’ve been fascinated by the fact that secular society—together with a significant segment of the church itself—reads Jesus’ Matthew 24 words in support of so-called “rapture” theology, sometimes also known as dispensationalism. It’s a doctrine formalized by John Nelson Darby (b. 1800 – d. 1882) in the 1830s. Darby took sort of a Da Vinci Code approach to things. And, oh, people do love a good riddle to solve.

I’m vastly oversimplifying here, but Darby essentially allowed—in keeping with his reading of Matthew 24—that Christ would suddenly remove His bride, the Church, from this world to its heavenly destiny before the judgments of the tribulation. Those “left behind” would, of course, remain to face that tribulation. He saw evidence of this doctrine not only in Matthew 24, but also in the Revelation of John.

The difficulties with Darby’s theory are multifold. The first, of course, is that the word “rapture”—or any word that might reasonably be so translated—appears nowhere in either the OT or the NT. The second is that Jesus’ reference to being “swept away” need not refer to a group of Christians being singled out as a bride for special benefit.

To be sure, from the moment Jane swept me away, I found myself in idyllic surroundings. Were my feet even on the floor? But Jesus never says that being swept away is like a “Tom sees Jane” moment. Instead, he points out that in the time of Noah, those who were swept away soon discovered their doom. Centuries later, in 587 B.C.E., many in and around Jerusalem were “swept away” by the Babylonians. They were forced to live and work in exile for some 70 years. For them, being swept away was far from joyous.

First century Palestinian Jews and Gentiles would have known friends and family who had been awakened in the night by Roman authorities and then “swept away” to prison, never to be seen again. Many Jews in Europe during the 1930s and 40s were similarly swept away by the Nazi regime, only to be gassed or shot in prison camps. In our day, more than one million Americans were swept away during the pandemic. And so, with all due respect to Darby and his followers, being swept away isn’t necessarily a benefit. Being left behind may, in fact, be better. Who knows?

That’s exactly Jesus’ point, of course. Only God knows. The moment assigned for the return of the Son of Man—our Lord says that it will come like a thief in the night [Matthew 24:43]. Making nice little PERT charts that identify the “signs” that will signal His return is useless and speculative. If we take Jesus at His word, the Truth is that He did not know the moment of his Parousia. Can a chart made by a human shed light on Light itself?

One core difficulty with much of rapture theory is that it seems designed to frighten, whereas the message offered by Jesus in Matthew 24 is truely one of hope. Upon His return, the Son of Man will be no tyrant, for the Son of Man is one and the same with the Christ who lived among us, who called us friend, who healed the sick, the blind, and the lame. He’s the One who told us that when we see Him, we see God.

The issue isn’t whether we’ll be swept away or left behind, but whether—in the meantime—we’re willing to live with hopeful anticipation of His return. “Keep awake,” He tells us [24:42]. Living in hope is a vital portion of the Christian faith. When we live in hope, we proclaim to a disbelieving world that there is much more to the human story than the mere collection of past events and experiences.

Moreover, living in hope is not a private experience. It isn’t an activity that resides solely within our individual hearts. It is corporate for none of us, individually, is the Body of Christ. That Body is composed of all Christ’s faithful followers. When we join together in hope, the cynicism of the world is effectively counter-balanced. When we join together in hope, we proclaim to others that we recognize that they, like us, are created in the Image of God.

This morning, in our Wednesday morning Bible study, we read a story about a man who was blind from birth [John 9]. All those around him saw his blindness as strong evidence of sin, either his own, or that of his parents or grandparents. In Darby’s terms, he was one who would be “left behind.” Instead, Jesus healed him. Suddenly, the blind could see and those around him who thought they had 20-20 vision turned out actually to be blind to the Grace that abounds when one is near Christ.

The man, confronted by the temple leaders, was grilled as to how he had come to gain his sight. The man responded, “One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see” [John 9:25]. A little while later, Jesus asked him, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” Jesus continued:

You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he [John 9:37].

I think it was at that moment that the formerly blind man was swept away by Christ, for the man said, “Lord, I believe.” And he worshipped Him [John 9:38]. Have you been swept away by the Love of Christ?