Tomorrow, you are not going to be taken up in the Rapture. No, not even you. Especially not you. Listen, I'm not just saying this because I'm some anti-Christian killjoy. I'm saying this because every generation is filled with folks who look around and say, "Yep, this is just too crazy and fucked up to continue." And it is crazy and fucked up. They're not wrong about that part.
They're just wrong about the part that says God agrees with them, that we've reached some pinnacle of unfathomable human fucked-up-ness and now's the time to end the world. I mean, you can almost forgive the the people who believed William Miller in 1844. Look what was on the horizon — civil war, mustard gas, trench warfare, atomic bombs, mass genocides.
If you caught even a whiff of that coming down the pike, who could blame you for thinking, "Yep, God's going to hit the brakes before we get to that?"
And yet, of course, on Oct. 23, all those folks who were so sure the world was ending on Oct. 22 had to face themselves and their friends and families.
We are no more special than they. The Rapture is not any more likely to happen tomorrow than it was on Oct. 22, 1844. We've gone through a century and a half full of unfathomable human suffering, and none of that was enough to make God say, "Well, this whole humanity thing was a terrible bust."
If that didn't do it, nothing that happens between now and Saturday is.
(In the event that I am wrong, you can use this handy chart to ascertain that I'll still be here on Monday.)