STORY OF THE WEEK: Left Behind? Why the Rapture Might Be More Fiction Than Fact

What the Bible Really Says About the End Times

When I was a kid, I lived in fear of disappearing.

Or not disappearing, actually — being the one left behind while everyone else floated off to heaven.

So, you can imagine the flashbacks I had when I stumbled across Kimberley Payne’s An Open Letter to My Family & Friends Who Are Not Born-Again Christians. It’s essentially a survival guide for what to do after the Rapture, complete with tips to stock up on canned goods, batteries, and water — because when God takes His people home, apparently, He’s also taking aisle 3 at Walmart.

I wish I could say I read it with detached amusement. Instead, it sent me spiraling back to those childhood fears when every quiet house felt like evidence that the Rapture had happened and I’d been left behind. Kimberley’s vivid descriptions of rivers turning to blood and worldwide chaos? I knew them all by heart before I could even ride a bike.

What Is the Rapture, Anyway?

For those blissfully unaware, the Rapture is a belief held by some Christians that, at some unknown moment, Jesus will suddenly snatch away all true believers to heaven. Cars will careen off roads, planes will fall from the sky, and the unlucky souls left behind will have to endure a chaotic period known as the Tribulation. Think plagues, rivers of blood, and an Antichrist running the show. It’s the stuff of dystopian thrillers, but for many, it’s a central part of their theology.

This idea largely comes from a few Bible verses, like 1 Thessalonians 4:16–17, which talks about believers being “caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air.” It’s also popularized by books and movies like Left Behind, which turned the Rapture into a cultural phenomenon (and a source of nightmares for many of us raised in evangelical circles).

The Reality of Rapture Anxiety

For some, the Rapture might sound like an interesting theological concept or even an exciting hope. But for others — especially kids — it’s a source of deep fear and anxiety. Growing up, I wasn’t thrilled by the thought of Jesus coming back. I was terrified that He might come back when I wasn’t ready or, worse… that he’d come back when I was doing something sinful.

Growing up, the Rapture wasn’t just an abstract theological concept. It felt like a looming possibility. I didn’t walk around in constant terror, but it lingered in the back of my mind like the background hum of a refrigerator you’re only aware of when everything else is quiet. Sermons about the End Times — and there were plenty — didn’t bring comfort; they brought sleepless nights and a vague sense that God could rock up at any moment.

As a teenager, I had another concern about the Rapture — one I couldn’t exactly bring up in youth group. What if God came back before I, you know, experienced certain things? I wasn’t in a rush or anything, but the thought of being raptured into eternity without ever… well… you know… let’s just say it added an awkward layer to my theological anxiety.

Looking back, it’s funny how these concerns, however absurd, stemmed from a theology that felt more like a checklist than a relationship. Get saved, stay pure, don’t screw up, and hope you’re not mid-sin when the trumpet sounds. The Rapture didn’t inspire hope or joy — it inspired stress. What if I wasn’t ready? What if I wasn’t good enough? What if I hadn’t prayed the right way or believed with enough conviction?

It felt like a great cosmic lottery that I was destined to lose.

Why the Rapture Doesn’t Make Sense

As I got older, I started to realize how shaky the foundations of this theology were.