Back when many Americans were worried about the effects of changing from nineteen to twenty in the dates of computers’ operating systems I took some pleasure in observing how such care could turn into hysteria. I do not say this to my credit since it is unbecoming to take delight in the discomfort of others. But if Y2K was supposed to be as cataclysmic as the hawkers of bottled water, batteries, and dried beans said, then I figured there was not much hope for the Harts. Either we would die of starvation or gunshot wounds (after approaching a neighbor’s house in search of hospitality). But I knew we couldn’t stock enough food and water or fire wood to subsist longer than it would take to patch back together the world’s highly centralized network of computers, information, and commodities.
So to make light of the situation, I found a soup recipe for dried navy beans and prepared an article for the Nicotine Theological Journal in which I advised those Y2K preparers who had acquired too many bags of beans and too many cases of bottled water how to use the recipe to begin to reduce the piles of subsistence provisions stacked in their basements. I still regard this piece as one of the more funny in the history of the NTJ, but at the time I confess that I wrote with a sense of nervous amusement. I had heard enough predictions about the problem of changing digits within operating systems to be relatively certain that Y2K was a hoax. I sure hoped it was, and I sure thought it would be funny – all that stockpiling for end-of-civilization living – if it turned out to be. But I was sufficiently chary to be denied genuine hilarity until the morning of January 1, 2000 when I woke up to find that the coffee maker worked, the computer booted up, and the car started.
Judgment Day 2011 has invited lots of people, Christian and not, to engage in the kind of ridicule I experienced at the time of Y2K. Predictions about May 21, 2011 even caught the attention of sports-talk-radio hosts who framed questions running the gamut of audience demographics from which woman listeners would most want to sleep with before the end of the world – more the spirit of Fat Tuesday than that of preparation for meeting one’s maker – or which injured member of the Phillies should start the last game before the rapture. As risible as the prediction of the last chance for saving faith before divine retribution was, I was also wary and less than confident that Harold Camping was wrong. I was especially wide awake around 5:52 pm last Saturday as I drove east on I 80 in Pennsylvania and listened to a story on NPR about the pet care service offered to those believers who would leave their cats and dogs to be with the Lord. Not only did I experience a measure of disgust at the thought of people profiting from this prediction as well as the gullibility of rapture believers. But I also worried what road conditions would be like should Camping turn out to be right and I was left behind.
The problems with Judgment Day 2011, as compared to Y2K, are more numerous and go beyond feelings of apprehension, gullibility, charity, or disgust. I was convinced that Camping was wrong to pick a date. I still find it hard to believe that people would listen to his apocalyptic siren call after he got it wrong seventeen years ago, though I’m sure Camping had and still has a numerological explanation. I was also pretty certain that Camping was mistaken about the mechanics of Christ’s greeting his saints. I had grown up in a dispensationalist church and was familiar with the idea of a rapture, and I spent too many long nights without sleep after watching the movie “Thief In the Night.” But since I am a bit of an agnostic about the specifics of how human history will end, I couldn’t be certain that a rapture was completely out of order.
But what would happen if judgment day didn’t, especially to the devoted who had prepared for the end of the world in a very different way from Y2K? I do grieve for those believers who went to bed Saturday night seriously disappointed and wonder if they still trusted God after such a let down. I hoped that they would find genuine rest and comfort and take some hope from attending the means of grace on the following Lord’s Day. Maybe these sad saints would go back to the churches they had left behind when Camping condemned the institutional churches as apostate.
And what about Family Radio stations? Did they have programming planned and loaded into computers to keep going after the rapture? Or would the stations be silent? Would the Family Radio website still be up? And did the executives of Family Radio contract with some broadcasting version of Eternal Earth-Bound Pets to insure that some unbelieving radio engineers and website administrators would be available to keep their broadcasts and Internet sites going?
But I was most curious about my own reaction (all about me, right?). When I was an eleven-year old and the Israeli’s were beating the dickens out of the Arabs during the Six-Day War, my congregation heard lots about the end of the world. After all, “signs of the times” were indicating that the Lord’s return was any day. As a budding adolescent I was deeply disappointed by the news. I still had yet to experience dating, driving, high school, and marriage and sex were at least a decade away. I wasn’t sufficiently sanctified to consider that a day with the Lord might even be better than a night of conjugal bliss.
But Judgment Day 2011 had a very different effect, possibly the signs of middle-age or maybe an indication of spiritual growth. I personally wanted Camping to be right. Of course, I still have projects going and plans for time with family and friends that I would regret to see unfulfilled. But since I do pray often the Lord’s prayer, and since the second petition calls for us to pray for the hastening of the kingdom of glory, I don’t think that believers should necessarily find unbelievable the idea that Christ is coming on a specific day. The specification itself is wrong, but I couldn’t help but wonder if Camping could turn out to be right even if his method and tactics were wrong. Wouldn’t it be one of the great ironies – and redemptive history is filled with such reversals of human expectations – if the end of the world did in fact happen in an amillenial way rather than in a dispensationalist manner on May 21? After all, no one knows the time or the hour, which means that Camping still could have been wrong and that Christ could have come on May 21 without a rapture. Plus, Christians are supposed to hope for the Lord’s return, so could I really root against Camping? And what of those who jeered Noah, John the Baptist, or even Christ himself during his first advent? I didn’t want to be guilty of human expectations that put Christ into a box that would prove Camping and his followers to be a charlatan and boobs.
So here we are on May 23, Family Radio is still broadcasting (though I haven’t heard any explanations yet), and the website is still up though the numbers counting down the days until the end of the world are gone and the entire website has received a facelift. Sports-talk-radio hosts are still commenting on what they did or did not do on Saturday evening – one suggested to friends at 5:55 pm drinking up since a rapture would mean not having to pay the bar tab (a patently illogical piece of wisdom since if the drinkers kept drinking they would not have been raptured and would face the judgment of settling their bar tab). Some people are breathing a sigh of relief, others are still scratching their heads over the gullibility of Christians and their strange ways of interpreting the Bible. And some, if they are like me, are disappointed that the day for which believers are supposed to long, and the joy that will take place at the marriage supper of the Lamb, did not happen. Instead, it is back to work, plans, friends, family, vacations, paying bills, changing litter boxes, mowing grass, and sipping overpriced coffee. We live in a good world, but oh how much better the world to come will be.