The Second Coming

Throughout Christian history, interpretations of the Second Coming have varied widely, but the popular modern idea of a sudden dramatic coming preceded by a “rapture” event is actually a recent development, and not rooted in the Bible. Far older and more consistent with both Scripture and Christian traditions is the view that the Second Coming represents a gradual awakening of Christ’s life within humanity. Rather than expecting a sudden removal of believers or a single cataclysmic event, this view understands the Kingdom of God as unfolding progressively through history, transforming individuals and societies from within. This perspective aligns with Jesus’ own parables, the teachings of the Christian prophet Edgar Cayce, and the testimony of countless near-death experiences that describe a collective spiritual maturation rather than a dramatic escape.

This gradual, transformative expectation was also the dominant view of the early Church. For the first 1,800 years of Christian history, neither the rapture nor a two-stage return of Christ was part of mainstream doctrine. Early Christian writers such as Irenaeus, Origen, Clement of Alexandria, and Gregory of Nyssa emphasized humanity’s ongoing spiritual transformation and ultimate restoration in Christ. Origen spoke of the soul’s ascent through multiple stages of purification. Gregory of Nyssa, a key fourth-century theologian, taught apokatastasis—the eventual restoration of all souls to God’s love. The rapture doctrine, by contrast, emerged in the nineteenth century through John Nelson Darby and was popularized in America through the Scofield Reference Bible. Even today, the majority of Christians worldwide do not teach or believe in the rapture. It remains primarily a feature of certain modern evangelical and fundamentalist Protestant groups, mainly in the United States.

Jesus repeatedly described the arrival of God’s reign using images of slow, organic growth. He compared the Kingdom to a mustard seed that grows into a tree (Matthew 13:31–32), to leaven working through dough (Matthew 13:33), and to seed that grows “all by itself” until the harvest (Mark 4:26–29). These parables emphasize quiet, persistent development over time. In the parable of the wheat and tares (Matthew 13:24–30, 36–43), both good and evil grow together until the end, implying a long period of maturation and discernment, not a sudden removal of the righteous. Jesus exhorted his followers to endure hardship (Matthew 24:13; John 16:33), remain faithful (Matthew 24–25), and recognize the Kingdom as already among them (Luke 17:20–21). The New Testament describes the Christian life as a process of being “transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory” (2 Corinthians 3:18), “conformed to the image of his Son” (Romans 8:29), and growing up into “the whole measure of the fullness of Christ” (Ephesians 4:13–15). James 1:2–4 portrays trials as refining believers into maturity. Nowhere do these passages suggest an imminent, secret evacuation of the faithful. Jesus’ kingdom language consistently describes a present and growing reality—the “already and not yet”—rather than a distant apocalyptic escape. Modern rapture theology reverses this emphasis, projecting the Kingdom entirely into the future and fostering passivity, whereas Jesus calls for participation in a Kingdom already at work.

Historically, the modern rapture doctrine arose in the nineteenth century through Darby and was popularized in America by Scofield. This framework divides Christ’s return into two stages, with a secret “catching away” of believers before tribulation, followed by a later public return. Such a scheme is foreign to early Christianity. When Paul describes believers being “caught up… to meet the Lord in the air” in 1 Thessalonians 4:17, he uses language that in ancient contexts referred to citizens going out to greet a visiting king to escort him back in ceremonial welcome. The picture is one of public honor and revelation, not a hidden removal. Likewise, Matthew 24:40–41’s imagery of “one taken and the other left” sits within the Noah story; those “taken” were the unprepared swept away in judgment, while those who remained entered the renewed order. Jesus’ emphasis is moral watchfulness, not a code for a rapture timeline. Moreover, Matthew 24:36 explicitly states that “no one knows the day or hour,” undermining any detailed prediction schemes. Related to this is dispensationalism’s separation of Israel and the Church—a key pillar of rapture timelines. The New Testament, however, portrays one unified people of God: “If you are Christ’s, then you are Abraham’s seed, heirs according to the promise” (Galatians 3:29). Gentiles are grafted into Israel’s tree (Romans 11), and Ephesians 2 depicts Jews and Gentiles as “one new humanity.” There is no separate divine program for Israel that necessitates a pre-tribulation removal of the Church; this is a later theological construct.

This gradualist understanding resonates deeply with Edgar Cayce’s teachings. Cayce repeatedly taught that humanity’s destiny is spiritual evolution: souls are fundamentally spiritual beings, temporarily in physical bodies for growth, gradually learning to align with divine law in body, mind, and spirit. He described the Second Coming as the awakening of the “Christ Consciousness” within individuals and eventually humanity as a whole. This awakening is not purely metaphorical; it is the real unfolding of divine love, service, and spiritual awareness throughout human history. Cayce also taught, in line with many early Christian thinkers and echoed in modern NDE testimonies, that the soul often has more than one earthly life to continue its growth. Early Church figures such as Origen taught the pre-existence of souls and the soul’s journey through multiple stages of purification. Jesus’ words about John the Baptist being “Elijah who was to come” (Matthew 11:14; 17:10–13) imply continuity of mission and identity beyond a single lifetime. The disciples’ question in John 9:1–3 about a man sinning before birth shows that such ideas were part of their worldview, and Jesus does not refute the premise but reframes it to reveal divine purpose. Hebrews 9:27 (“it is appointed unto men once to die, and after this the judgment”) is often raised against reincarnation, but this verse contrasts humanity’s typical mortal experience with Christ’s once-for-all sacrifice, not with the metaphysical structure of the soul’s journey. It speaks to each life’s accountability before God, not a cosmic prohibition on further soul development.

This broader vision fits naturally with universal reconciliation—the belief that all souls will ultimately be restored to God. Gregory of Nyssa, regarded as a Father of the Church, taught that divine love will ultimately heal and restore all creation. Cayce’s readings and NDE testimonies echo this: Howard Storm and many others report being shown that God’s love is ultimately irresistible, and no soul is eternally abandoned. Scripture contains clear universalist notes: “As in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive” (1 Corinthians 15:22); God “desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth” (1 Timothy 2:4); and in the end, God will be “all in all” (1 Corinthians 15:28). Philippians 2:10–11 envisions every knee bowing and every tongue confessing Jesus as Lord, which points toward universal acknowledgment and restoration, not eternal division. Early Christian theology called this vision apokatastasis—the “restoration of all things” (Acts 3:21)—and it was openly taught by several major Fathers before being later sidelined for political reasons, not because it lacked Biblical grounding.

It is also necessary to address the dramatic imagery of Revelation and other “end times” passages. Many assume that these texts describe a future, global cataclysm preceding a rapture, but a preterist perspective understands much of this apocalyptic language as referring to real historical events in the first century—specifically, the fall of Jerusalem and the Temple in AD 70, which Jesus explicitly predicted. The Olivet Discourse begins with Jesus’ disciples asking when the Temple would be destroyed (Matthew 24:1–3). Jesus’ response describes wars, famines, persecution, and the “abomination of desolation,” all of which occurred within that generation. Revelation itself uses symbolic, prophetic language drawn from the Old Testament to describe covenantal judgment and the transition from the Old Covenant to the New. Beasts, falling stars, and earthquakes are standard prophetic imagery for political and spiritual upheaval. Many of the dramatic end-times events in Revelation were the birth pangs of the Kingdom’s public inauguration, not predictions of a distant rapture.

The “lake of fire” described in Revelation (19:20; 20:10, 14–15; 21:8) is often misunderstood as a place of eternal conscious torment, but a closer reading shows it functions as God’s purifying and transformative judgment, not an endless torture chamber. Death and Hades themselves are thrown into the lake of fire (Revelation 20:14), indicating the destruction of death and evil rather than their preservation. In Scripture, fire frequently symbolizes refinement and cleansing (Malachi 3:2–3; Isaiah 4:4; 1 Corinthians 3:13–15), burning away dross to reveal what is true. The phrase “forever and ever” in Revelation 20:10 translates the Greek eis aiōnas aiōnōn, literally “unto the ages of the ages,” which early theologians understood as referring to long but finite ages, not endless time. They distinguished between aiōnios (age-lasting) and aidios (eternal). Early Christian universalists like Origen and Gregory of Nyssa saw the lake of fire as the ultimate purifying process through which evil is destroyed and souls are restored, consistent with passages like Philippians 2:10–11 and 1 Corinthians 15:28, which envision all creation reconciled to God. In this view, the lake of fire is neither punitive nor permanent, but part of God’s redemptive plan—a temporary, refining fire that brings about the final triumph of divine love. This also reframes divine judgment itself. Jesus declared, “I did not come to judge the world but to save the world” (John 12:47), and biblical judgment is repeatedly portrayed as revelatory and corrective (John 3:19–21; Romans 2:5–11), not eternal vengeance. God’s justice aims at restoration, not endless punishment.

This view does not deny that there will be a final consummation of history, but it reframes the “end times” as something already inaugurated in the first century and unfolding through history, rather than as a single explosive future event. The Kingdom began like a mustard seed and is growing through the ages. Revelation’s climactic vision is not of believers escaping earth, but of heaven and earth united: “the dwelling of God is with men” (Revelation 21:3). The nations bring their glory into the New Jerusalem (Revelation 21:24–26), and the leaves of the Tree of Life are “for the healing of the nations” (Revelation 22:2). This depicts a world in which divine presence increasingly permeates creation, culminating in full union—not a sudden evacuation of the faithful. In a worldview that includes reincarnation, universal reconciliation, and the patient work of divine love through history, these visions make profound sense.

The alternative to rapture sensationalism is both constructive and spiritually demanding. It calls believers to live with the conscious awareness that the Kingdom of God is already active within and among them. This perspective emphasizes steady growth in virtue (2 Peter 1:5–8), perseverance through trials (James 1:2–4), and the pursuit of corporate maturity “to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ” (Ephesians 4:13–15). While it affirms a future, public return of Christ, its focus is on preparing for that consummation through transformation in the present. Followers of Jesus are called to imitate his example—loving and serving others with humility, extending grace rather than judgment, and actively embodying the values of the Kingdom in everyday life.

In this light, the Second Coming is not a single dramatic rescue but the culmination of humanity’s long return to God. The mustard seed is growing, the leaven is working through the dough, the wheat and tares are maturing together. As Christ’s life increasingly takes root in human hearts and societies, the world is being prepared for his full revelation. Believers are not called to passively wait for extraction but to actively embody the Kingdom here and now, participating in God’s gradual plan of renewal for all creation. This vision is more faithful to Scripture, more spiritually robust, and more hopeful than any escapist doctrine. It is also more expansive: it sees God’s redemptive work as ultimately reaching every soul, through many stages and experiences, until “God may be all in all” (1 Corinthians 15:28). It invites us to become, together, the living Body of Christ through whom his Kingdom comes on Earth as it is in heaven. It also magnifies Christ’s character: the same Jesus who forgave his executioners (Luke 23:34), sought the lost (Luke 15), and gave his life for the world (John 3:16–17) is the one who will ultimately restore all things. His fire is love, and his justice heals rather than condemns.