Deconstructing the Rapture Series: Part Three
By Meagan
I know this story because I’ve lived it.
The pre-tribulation Rapture wasn’t just some abstract theology to me—it was the backdrop of my childhood and much of my adulthood in the Pentecostal Apostolic Church. It was the drumbeat of every revival, every convocation, the unspoken reason we were told: “Don’t get too comfortable in this world.”
But here’s the truth they never told us:
This doctrine wasn’t made for us.
It was crafted by white men in the 1800s, then sold to Black churches as gospel—a spiritual escape hatch from racism, poverty, and pain. And we bought it because when you’re drowning, you’ll grab any rope.
The messaging of Jesus is coming soon was on repeat, inserted into many sermons. It was this constant messaging that kept us insularly focused and not socially engaged. Why protest when “the Lord is going to come before it gets worse”. It seemed that the Rapture became the ultimate respectability politics of why demand justice when God would soon vaporize the wicked? In the city I lived in protesting wasn’t polite and the Black community wasn’t cohesive or organized enough to even mount a protest against social injustices.
A Timeline: How the Rapture Became Evangelical Dogma
Pre-1830s: No Rapture Theology
Early Church (1st–4th century)
- Believed in a single, visible return of Christ after tribulation.
- Interpreted Revelation symbolically.
- No secret escape; suffering was part of the journey.
Reformation (16th century)
- Luther and Calvin rejected end-time speculation.
- Called rapture-like doctrines “Jewish fables.”
1830: Margaret MacDonald’s Vision (Scotland)
A teenage girl in a charismatic church claimed a revelation:
“The saints will be caught up to meet Christ… while the wicked are left for judgment.”
It was emotional and partial—a vision, not a theology.
1830s–1840s: John Nelson Darby Systematizes It
Darby’s Innovations:
- Dispensationalism: God has separate plans for Jews and Christians.
- Pre-tribulation Rapture: Secret snatching away of the church.
Why It Spread:
- Gave certainty during chaos (Industrial Revolution).
- Appealed to literal Bible readers.
1909: Scofield Reference Bible
- C.I. Scofield added Darby’s theology to Bible footnotes.
- Gave the illusion of being scripture.
- Popularized among American evangelicals.
The Pentecostal Connection
Black Pentecostalism (early 1900s) became fertile ground for Rapture theology:
- Azusa Street Revival (1906–1909) led by William J. Seymour emphasized prophecy and supernatural signs, aligning with Margaret MacDonald’s visionary style.
- Pentecostals prioritized heaven and holiness over social reform.
- Dispensationalist missionaries (e.g., A.J. Tomlinson) brought Darby’s ideas to Black Holiness churches.
Black End-Time Media (Late 20th Century)
- Frederick K.C. Price preached dispensationalism on national television.
- Gospel music echoed rapture themes: “I’ll Fly Away,” “Soon and Very Soon.”
- “Left Behind” adaptations targeted Black churches.
Irony: A theology invented by white separatists was repackaged as hope for the descendants of the enslaved.
Pop Culture Prophecy
- 1970: The Late Great Planet Earth tied rapture to Cold War fears.
- 1995–2014: Left Behind franchise turned fear into profit.
- Sold the idea of escape instead of endurance or transformation.
Why It’s Problematic
The Rapture’s grip on the Black Church has had lasting effects:
- Distracted from activism: Why fight injustice if Jesus is coming soon?
- Wealthy churches profit: Doom sermons, but poverty remains.
- Psychological harm: Generational trauma + fear of being “left behind.”
Dr. Anthea Butler writes:
“The Rapture is the opioid of the Black Church. It numbs pain but doesn’t heal it.”
Breaking the Cycle
A new movement is stirring—one grounded in justice, not escapism:
- James Cone: Black Liberation Theology ties salvation to earthly justice.
- Anthony Pinn: Black Humanists critique Rapture theology as pacification.
A Closing Reflection
I write this not only for those who have deconstructed like me, but also for those still caught in the grip of inherited fear. I honour the generations who found comfort in this theology—it gave them hope when the world gave them none.
But I also honour those of us who are waking up, who are daring to ask, “What if we were never meant to disappear?”
I no longer fear clear skies and still mornings. I embrace them.
This is what deconstruction has taught me: to stay present, to seek justice, to heal the wounds that silence once covered.
May we all find our way out of fear—whether softly or all at once.
We were never meant to vanish. We were meant to rise.