BIG FEELS ABOUT THE APOCALYPSE:
There was a period of a couple years—lets say somewhere between the ages of 10 and 14 (who knows, trauma brain, amiright??)—that any time I walked into a room where I expected people to be, and they were not, I thought the rapture had happened.
For those of you tender, uninitiated, damned souls, the rapture, according to evangelical lore, is the climax of the end times. The moment when it is, in fact, too late (cue Larry Norman’s “I Wish We’d All Been Ready”), and you have been left behind (see: the original Left Behind movie franchise that I watched on repeat in nail-biting horror alongside my older brother). Left behind from what, you ask? From heaven on high, my darling heathen. There is a crack, a moment in time, akin to Thanos’ snap of his fingers in that big Avengers movie where if you love Jesus (like, for real for real love him, and no faking it and no takesees backsees) you are whisked off to heaven; everyone else hangs back to suffer and have major r-ay-grets until the world explodes (or something) and their souls go to H. E. double hockey sticks. TOUGH STUFF.
Imagine contemplating the end of humanity, the destruction of the world, and your own eternal damnation on the reg? Like, kid stuff, kid stuff, kid stuff, ETERNAL DAMNATION, kid stuff. MY GOD.
When I saw a harvest moon—goddamn near every year—I would pray to god that this was not the blood moon described in the Book of Revelation as harkening the end of days. Any natural disaster was also “proof” of the chaos about to ensue in eternal warfare. Any time we visited my grandpa’s church, his sermons ended in fire and brimstone. Every. Sermon. Mother’s day, father’s day, Easter, Christmas: no matter how the sermon started it would always end with someone absolutely roasting alive for their fatal flaws.
I think this is why there is so much apathy in the evangelical church when it comes to climate change. To them, the destruction of the world is inevitable and, more importantly, they expect to have a first class ticket out of the worst of it via the Rapturian Express. My grandpa was inspired by destruction, he wanted to see fiery glory, he was keen to have his final moment of ultimate vindication (I mean, as a scorpio, I can relate, but I DIGRESS).
The climate emergency that we are in is triggering on so many levels, for all of us. None of us can escape this moment, and certainly not in the cinematic way of Kirk Cameron’s Left Behind. Maybe there was a part of me that always knew I was here for the long haul.
But, then again, so are you—here for the long haul, that is. Are we really left behind if we never wanted to go? Let’s stay. Let’s follow the smell of hope and meet halfway to go swimming off the beaten path. Let’s paint our nails. Let’s comfort each other with back rubs and improbable laughter. Let’s do what we can.
Or don’t. Whatever. I’ll be honest, I’ve pretty much used up my lifetime amount of adrenaline specifically reserved for the apocalypse. I’m strictly vibing now.
Talk soon,
Natahna
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The Recommends: Pure by Linda Kay Klein