There’s been a lot of fuss on the internet lately about this new statue that the UN has erected outside their headquarters on the Visitor’s Plaza.
I’ve seen screenshots of the original tweet shared on Facebook and other social media platforms, as well as copious articles flooding my newsfeed, all suggesting the same thing: this is the beast from Daniel 7. This of course carries with it the implication that it is also a fulfilment of that prophecy and therefore we should expect something more to happen soon, like “the antichrist” to rise up and consume the world. Or something along those lines. I don’t follow the Dispensational “end times” view anymore, so I try not to get my eschatology from newspaper headlines (or tweets). In nearly all of the other articles I’ve seen on the topic, no one is actually engaging with the Scriptures, but are quoting random tweets and Facebook posts as though that’s where we should derive our exegesis and conclusions.
A guardian for international peace and security sits on the Visitor's Plaza outside #UN Headquarters. The guardian is a fusion of jaguar and eagle and donated by the Government of Oaxaca, Mexico @MexOnu. It is created by artists Jacobo and Maria Angeles. UN Photo/Manuel Elías pic.twitter.com/q8SSsQhz1L
If you can’t see the tweet above, the official UN Twitter account said:
A guardian for international peace and security sits on the Visitor’s Plaza outside #UN Headquarters. The guardian is a fusion of jaguar and eagle and donated by the Government of Oaxaca, Mexico @MexOnu It is created by artists Jacobo and Maria Angeles.
So with that said, let’s have a look at some of the claims and then compare with what Scripture actually says, rather than a bunch of tweets by people losing their minds.
Three passages of Scripture are being thrown about: Daniel 7:2–4, Revelation 13:2, and 1 Thessalonians 5:2–3. But do these verses speak to this new statue?
Daniel 7:2–4 I, Daniel, saw in my vision by night the four winds of heaven stirring up the great sea, and four great beasts came up out of the sea, different from one another. The first was like a lion and had eagles’ wings. Then, as I watched, its wings were plucked off, and it was lifted up from the ground and made to stand on two feet like a human being; and a human mind was given to it.
Alright, Daniel does say the first beast “was like a lion and had eagles’ wings”, which I will admit, is pretty similar to the statue (except that it’s not a lion). I don’t know if Daniel would have been familiar with Jaguars which is why people are pointing out the phrase, “like a lion” due to the similarities of the animals. But these details are really besides the point. The first, and most obvious point to me when I first saw this was that the “beasts” in Daniel 7 (all four of them) are representative of nations and kings. The visions Daniel has are about future kingdoms and their leaders. You only need to read the rest of the chapter to see this, as the angel with Daniel gives the interpretation to him! See below:
Daniel 7:16–17 I approached one of the attendants to ask him the truth concerning all this. So he said that he would disclose to me the interpretation of the matter: “As for these four great beasts, four kings shall arise out of the earth.
Disney Pixar’s “Coco” film poster (2017)
Unless the statue outside the UN is actually a living person who rules a nation… trying to tie it to Daniel 7 is more than a stretch. It’s just nonsensical. The second point which came to my mind too, and anyone else who has seen the Disney film “Coco”, is that these Jaguar-Eagle beast things are part of Mexican culture and mythology (and were warrior classes of the Aztecs). It’s not a unique design the UN came up with, demonically inspired to fulfil prophecy. No, the statue is an “Alebrije” created by Mexican artists Jacobo and Maria Angeles and has no links to Daniel or Revelation.
So let’s go to Revelation next, while we’re thinking about it:
Revelation 13:2 And the beast that I saw was like a leopard, its feet were like a bear’s, and its mouth was like a lion’s mouth. And the dragon gave it his power and his throne and great authority.
Again, similar words and phrases, but this doesn’t make it about the statue. Especially since this description lacks the eagle’s wings, not to mention that this description by John is a blending of the four beasts from Daniel’s vision. Compare the other beasts at the start of Daniel 7: “The first was like a lion … a second one, that looked like a bear … another appeared, like a leopard”. Daniel’s visions and John’s vision are intrinsically linked and speak to the same events; though Daniel looked forward into the very distant future, John looks a little closer to home within the Roman Empire. These previous empires pale in comparison to the breadth and might of Rome, as though it had the strength of all previous beasts combined.
But the point remains, these passages of Scripture may be linked and related to one another, but they aren’t related to a statue outside the UN headquarters. People are trying to make the inference that the UN has the power and authority over the people and nations which the devil has given them, but the problem with this is that the UN has no real power–it’s authority is limited. It can’t enforce things on nations or member states and can’t overrule individual governments.
Finally, here’s the most tenuous link being bandied about. The UN’s tweet said that the statue is a “guardian for international peace and security”, so obviously that must be a reference to 1 Thess 5. Because that’s not a common expression at all, right?
1 Thessalonians 5:2–3 For you yourselves know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night. When they say, “There is peace and security,” then sudden destruction will come upon them, as labor pains come upon a pregnant woman, and there will be no escape!
Even within the context of Paul’s writing here, the way he phrases “when they say…” he is using it as though it’s a well-known expression, if it’s even a specific phrase, rather than just a generalisation about the attitude of the world who aren’t waiting for the Lord to return. Paul is speaking about being aware and keeping our minds fixed on Jesus, because we can’t, and don’t, know when things will happen; especially so when we think everything is fine and dandy, then suddenly everything can crash down around us if we’re not paying attention.
To bring this to some kind of conclusion, and to answer the question in the title: no, the statue has nothing to do with Daniel and John’s visions about beasts because they are representative of nations and kings (particularly Babylon, the Medo-Persian Empire, Greece and Rome), not literal beasts and even less about sculptures.
While we have nothing to fear from Mexican artwork outside the UN building, we should all bear in mind what Paul did write to the Thessalonians, and “keep awake and be sober” so we don’t “fall asleep as others do”. Though Jesus may come like “a thief in the night”, we shouldn’t be caught by surprise, Paul says, and to do that we must know our Bibles better! All of these articles jumping on the bandwagon claiming that this statue is the fulfilment of Revelation 13 just goes to show that people aren’t actually studying the Scriptures and are seeing patterns where there are none, because if you knew Daniel and Revelation well enough, you’d see that this is totally unrelated. Be like the Bereans and open your Bibles to check claims before posting it all over social media, stirring up “end times hysteria” and making the Body of Christ look like fools.
Our interpretations of Scripture should come from good exegesis, not newspaper headline comparisons.
If you do want to read more about the end times, and specifically in relation to Daniel, see my blog series The Coming of Jesus, or sign up to be notified about my upcoming book, The Coming of Christ.
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Something bizarre happened in the White House Oval Office this week. Photographs circulated on social media showing President Donald Trump seated at his desk, surrounded by approximately twenty Christian pastors from across the country, their hands extended towards him in prayer. The image provoked sharply divided reactions: some saw it as a moving expression of faith; others found it deeply unsettling. Whatever one makes of the optics, it arrived at a charged moment.
Trump held a prayer meeting in the Oval Office after his administration admitted the war with Iran will likely last weeks longer than promised | Credit: Dan Scavino's X account
Days earlier, reports emerged that a military commander had told troops that the current US war with Iran is “all part of God’s divine plan,” and that President Trump had been “anointed by Jesus to light the signal fire in Iran to cause Armageddon and mark his return to Earth.” These were not fringe internet rumours. They were filed as formal complaints with the Military Religious Freedom Foundation (MRFF) by an anonymous non-commissioned officer acting on behalf of fifteen service members — the majority of whom were themselves Christians. By Tuesday of that week, MRFF had logged more than two hundred similar complaints across fifty military installations, covering every branch of the armed forces.
More than two dozen Democratic members of Congress have since called for a Department of Defense Inspector General investigation, citing what they describe as “glaring Constitutional concerns” and potential violations of DoD regulations on religious neutrality.
The political questions about separation of church and state in the US are for others to address. What I want to do here is something more straightforward: examine what Revelation actually says, because the theology driving these claims does not hold up under scrutiny. And that matters here a lot; not as a partisan point, but as a question of biblical faithfulness.
First, a Word About Context
If you have read my previous article on Revelation some of what follows will be familiar ground. But it bears repeating, because the misunderstanding at the heart of this story is so widespread that it has taken on the feel of settled orthodoxy in many circles.
The Book of Revelation is commonly thought to be written in the late first century ~95 AD, during or around the reign of Emperor Domitian. Though there is internal evidence that it was possibly written during Nero’s reign prior to 70 AD. Both of these emperors were most aggressive proponents of the imperial cult in Rome’s history. Domitian required that he be addressed as “lord and god,” had this title printed on coinage, and expected acts of religious reverence towards the Emperor as a demonstration of political loyalty. To refuse was to invite economic exclusion, marginalisation, and worse.
Rome on seven hills
It is into that precise context that John of Patmos writes. He is not composing a coded forecast of twenty-first century geopolitics. He is writing resistance literature — what scholars call apocalyptic literature — a well-established Jewish and early Christian genre which uses vivid symbolic imagery to pull back the curtain on earthly power and name it for what it truly is. The seven-headed beast of Revelation is Rome. The seven heads are the seven hills of Rome, an identification so widely acknowledged in early church scholarship that it barely requires argument. The mark of the beast, calculated through Hebrew gematria to 666 (or 616 in some early manuscripts), points directly to Nero Caesar (transliterated into Hebrew as נרון קסר, “nrwn qsr”) — the Emperor who became the archetype of anti-Christian persecution due to the levels of evilness he enacted. The second beast, which looks like a lamb but speaks for the dragon, performs signs to deceive, enforces the mark, and compels worship of the first beas...
This is a guest post from Charles Meek
Hal Lindsey’s bookThe Late Great Planet Earth
Hal Lindsey’s book The Late Great Planet Earth, first edition in 1970, sold over 40 million copies. Gullible Christians got sucked into Lindsey’s soon-end-of-the-world cult-like poppycock. As time has passed without his version of Armageddon taking place, we can now objectively analyze where Lindsey went wrong:
Lindsey (p. 54, 181), like other dispensationalists, placed the beginning of the end with Israel becoming a nation in 1948. He thought all prophecy would be fulfilled within a 40-year generation (Matthew 24:34). But 1988 came and went, proving him to be a false prophet. (This should be adequate proof that 1948 has nothing to do with Bible prophecy.)
Lindsey (p. 44) prophesied a 7-year, world-wide, tribulation. He got this from Revelation 11 which speaks of the “holy city” being trampled for 42 months — and “two witnesses prophesying” for 1,260 days. He simply adds both of these 3 ½-year periods together to get 7 years (of tribulation). There is NO indication in the text that this is a valid interpretation. He was reading something speculative into the text that is not there. Indeed, there is no passage in the Bible that clearly teaches a 7-year tribulation. Further, Jesus limited the time of the trampling of Jerusalem to his own generation (Luke 21:20–22, 32). Interestingly, the final assault on Jerusalem by the Roman army under Titus lasted 42 months from February AD 67 to August AD 70. This is strong supporting evidence for the Great Tribulation being fulfilled at the Jewish-Roman War ending with the fall of Jerusalem in AD 70.)
Lindsey (p. 87, etc.) saw the existence of nuclear weapons as an important sign of the end times. However, Jesus taught that the so-called “end times” would be when God’s people would “fall by the edge of the sword” (Luke 21:24). Jesus’ prophecies were about ancient warfare, not modern nuclear weapons. The context of this prophecy by Jesus was about the coming destruction of the temple (Luke 21:6). Jesus told his listeners that it would happen when THEY saw Jerusalem surrounded by armies (Luke 21:20), in THEIR generation (Luke 21:32). This all happened when the Roman armies invaded Jerusalem in AD 67–70.
Lindsey (p. 56–57) said, “It is certain that the Temple will be rebuilt. Prophecy demands it.” Problem is, not a single verse of the Bible can be mustered to support a future rebuilding of the temple. This idea is merely an invention of dispensationalists to try to justify their theory.
Lindsey (p. 88, 124) even makes this astounding prediction: “The prophetic Scriptures tell us that the Roman Empire will be revived shortly before the return of Christ to this earth. A new Caesar will head this empire.” It’s hard to believe anyone took this charlatan Lindsey seriously.
Lindsey (p. 108), in speaking of the Antichrist, “He will have a magnetic personality, be personally attractive, and a powerful speaker. He will be able to mesmerize an audience with his oratory.” But the Antichrist is never mentioned in Revelation, let alone any such description of him. The Antichrist is only mentioned in John’s epistles, which say that the Antichrist was already in the world when John was writing (1 John 4:3). Indeed, John taught that it was already the “last hour” as he wrote (1 John 2:18). If you believe John was an inspired writer, this precludes any future fulfillment.
Lindsey (p. 125, 126) said that modern drug addiction and witchcraft is evidence of the “sorceries” of Revelation 9:21. He quoted a TV station that “Nearly every respectable high school these days has its own witch.” (Besides the obvious problem of nonsense, Revelation itself teaches that it is about things that MUST SHORTLY TAKE PLACE (Revelation 1:1; 22:6). Indeed, there are over 30 passages in Revelation that reiterate that its fulfillment was “near,” “soon,” or ...
It’s not often we read the text of the triumphant entry into Jerusalem as an eschatological text thinking about the return of Christ. Especially as at this point the in the Gospel narratives, Jesus is on earth in his first coming, and still a week away from his crucifixion!
While the texts usually read across the world on Palm Sunday may be familiar to us (Luke 19:28–40), we might miss the connection with the preceding parables if we don’t read the whole of Luke 19 together.
I won’t quote everything here, as you can read the whole text for yourself, but the pertinent verses come from the Parable of the Ten Minas in verses 11–27:
Luke 19:11, 27As they were listening to this, He went on to tell a parable because He was near Jerusalem, and they thought the kingdom of God was going to appear right away. … But bring here these enemies of mine, who did not want me to rule over them, and slaughter them in my presence.
This parable is pointing to the departure of Jesus (the king) who leaves his servants in charge (his disciples then and now) while he goes to receive “royal power for himself” (v.12) and has a delayed return in which he will slaughter those who opposed his kingship once he is back (v.27).
This leads into the “Palm Sunday” day of Jesus coming as a rightful king and then later being rejected and leaving to receive his authority:
(v.12) So he said, “A nobleman went to a distant region to receive royal power for himself and then return.
This ties into Daniel 7 when the Son of Man (Jesus) goes to the Father (the “Ancient One”) and is given authority and a kingdom:
Daniel 7:13–14As I watched in the night visions,I saw one like a human being coming with the clouds of heaven.And he came to the Ancient One and was presented before him.To him was given dominion and glory and kingship,that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him.His dominion is an everlasting dominion that shall not pass away,and his kingship is one that shall never be destroyed.
Coming on or with clouds is a metaphor often used throughout the Old Testament to signify the sovereign judgement of God coming upon a nation. If you want to understand more about this concept, see my other article: The Coming of Jesus: Coming on the clouds.
When Jesus says that he is coming again, hinted at in the parable, and at other times that he will come “on the clouds”, we must remember that this is a reference to a prophecy set within a context of God doing some judging (Dan 7:10). This language isn’t unique to Daniel either, but is a typical example of apocalyptic imagery used by prophets.
He then returned “in the clouds” in the Roman-Jewish War of AD 66-70 to bring that judgement on the “delegation” that didn’t want him to be king (Luke 19:14) — e.g. pharisaical Judaism; the Jews who rejected Jesus.
The temple was abandoned by God and the Romans trampled it, as predicted:
Luke 21:24 They will fall by the edge of the sword and be led captive into all the nations, and Jerusalem will be trampled by the Gentiles until the times of the Gentiles are fulfilled.
We can see how this played out in the writings of Josephus, a first century Jewish historian, who reported what happened in Jerusalem and at the temple during the Roman-Jewish war.
Moreover, at the feast which is called Pentecost, the priests on entering the inner court of the temple by night, as their custom was in the discharge of their ministrations, reported that they were conscious, first of a commotion and a din, and after that of a voice as of a host, “We are departing hence.”Josephus, Jewish Wars, 6.5 (circa 75 AD)
We see a similar thing happening in Ezekiel when the glory of God was prophesied to leave the temple before the first temple destruction:
Ezekiel 10:18Then the glory of the LORD went out from the threshold of the house and stopped above the cherubim.
Then we have angelic visions above the city of Jerusalem prior to its...
Most people have some idea about what the rapture is – or do they? Generally there is an idea or concept of a form of escapism from the world when Jesus returns, which happens pre, mid or post tribulation and in some connection to the millenium. Now, if you understood any of those terms, you are most likely on, or aware of, the Dispensationalism side of things.
There’s a lot of doctrine all bundled together in “end times” beliefs, and a fair bit of speculation around “the rapture” with its timing and logistics etc. which makes the whole thing a but murky, but nonetheless, it’s pretty much taken for granted as a staple belief within the Evangelical world. But has this always been so, and does it have any biblical basis?
In short: sort of.
What is The Rapture?
This is the primary verse where the doctrine finds its footing:
…then we that are alive, that are left, shall together with them be caught up in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord. — 1 Thessalonians 4:17
On the face of it, that is a pretty obscure (and short) text, yet so much has been written on and speculated about around this event.
I’m not going to cover every aspect of rapture doctrine here, but rather want to just highlight the context of this verse and its parallels in Paul’s other letters, as this seems to get lost under centuries of doctrinal baggage, which, incidentally, also the leads to the next point to look at: is the rapture biblical?
The origin of The Rapture
The word “rapture” itself comes from the Latin word rapere, which means: “to seize” or “to abduct”. It is a translation from the Greek word that is rendered as “caught up” (ἁρπάζω / harpázō) in our English Bibles today.
For many, asking if this belief is biblical is a non-starter because it is assumed so based on 1 Thess. 4 so obviously it is. But this is a presupposition, reading the modern ideas of what “the rapture” means into the text. The modern idea being that Jesus comes back briefly (and maybe secretly), whooses all the Christians into the sky and takes them to heaven, away from all the troubles on the earth, before coming back later to do a proper “second coming”.
John Nelson Darby, a 19th-century theologian, is often credited with creating this premillennial rapture doctrine, followed closely by C.I. Scofield who wrote a best-selling annotated Bible which promoted Darby’s rapture views in its footnote commentary. This particular Bible became wildly popular across America in the early 1900s and ended up solidifying the futurist dispensational viewpoint for generations to come within Evangelicalism.
Despite the popularity of Scofield’s Bible, what it (and Darby) taught was a novel idea which had not been seen nor heard of before in the previous 1800 years of Church History, yet many Christians accepted it without hesitation, likely due to it being part of the exposition alongside the Scripture they were reading, and therefore a seeming authority.
I realise there is somewhat of an irony here in that I’m acting similarly like an authority telling you that this belief is wrong whereas Scofield was writing as though it were accurate, but in an even more ironic twist, just a handful of verses later, the same letter to the Thessalonians says to “test everything; hold fast to what is good” (1 Thess. 5:21). This is what I would invite you to do: don’t just take my word for it, test everything and see if what I say is accurate.
The context of The Rapture
So what is the context of these verses, if not about being whisked away into the sky with Jesus? A couple of things, but one slightly more obvious than the other, though still overlooked by people, I’ve noticed; the other requires knowing some more about the ancient Greco-Roman culture of the time.
Firstly, we only need go back a few verses to see what Paul is writing about here: he begins the passage in verse 13 by sayi...
Something bizarre happened in the White House Oval Office this week. Photographs circulated on social media showing President Donald Trump seated at his desk, surrounded by approximately twenty Christian pastors from across the country, their hands extended towards him in prayer. The image provoked sharply divided reactions: some saw it as a moving expression of faith; others found it deeply unsettling. Whatever one makes of the optics, it arrived at a charged moment.
Trump held a prayer meeting in the Oval Office after his administration admitted the war with Iran will likely last weeks longer than promised | Credit: Dan Scavino's X account
Days earlier, reports emerged that a military commander had told troops that the current US war with Iran is “all part of God’s divine plan,” and that President Trump had been “anointed by Jesus to light the signal fire in Iran to cause Armageddon and mark his return to Earth.” These were not fringe internet rumours. They were filed as formal complaints with the Military Religious Freedom Foundation (MRFF) by an anonymous non-commissioned officer acting on behalf of fifteen service members — the majority of whom were themselves Christians. By Tuesday of that week, MRFF had logged more than two hundred similar complaints across fifty military installations, covering every branch of the armed forces.
More than two dozen Democratic members of Congress have since called for a Department of Defense Inspector General investigation, citing what they describe as “glaring Constitutional concerns” and potential violations of DoD regulations on religious neutrality.
The political questions about separation of church and state in the US are for others to address. What I want to do here is something more straightforward: examine what Revelation actually says, because the theology driving these claims does not hold up under scrutiny. And that matters here a lot; not as a partisan point, but as a question of biblical faithfulness.
First, a Word About Context
If you have read my previous article on Revelation some of what follows will be familiar ground. But it bears repeating, because the misunderstanding at the heart of this story is so widespread that it has taken on the feel of settled orthodoxy in many circles.
The Book of Revelation is commonly thought to be written in the late first century ~95 AD, during or around the reign of Emperor Domitian. Though there is internal evidence that it was possibly written during Nero’s reign prior to 70 AD. Both of these emperors were most aggressive proponents of the imperial cult in Rome’s history. Domitian required that he be addressed as “lord and god,” had this title printed on coinage, and expected acts of religious reverence towards the Emperor as a demonstration of political loyalty. To refuse was to invite economic exclusion, marginalisation, and worse.
Rome on seven hills
It is into that precise context that John of Patmos writes. He is not composing a coded forecast of twenty-first century geopolitics. He is writing resistance literature — what scholars call apocalyptic literature — a well-established Jewish and early Christian genre which uses vivid symbolic imagery to pull back the curtain on earthly power and name it for what it truly is. The seven-headed beast of Revelation is Rome. The seven heads are the seven hills of Rome, an identification so widely acknowledged in early church scholarship that it barely requires argument. The mark of the beast, calculated through Hebrew gematria to 666 (or 616 in some early manuscripts), points directly to Nero Caesar (transliterated into Hebrew as נרון קסר, “nrwn qsr”) — the Emperor who became the archetype of anti-Christian persecution due to the levels of evilness he enacted. The second beast, which looks like a lamb but speaks for the dragon, performs signs to deceive, enforces the mark, and compels worship of the first beas...
Every now and then something happens in this country that feels small on the surface but carries a deeper spiritual weight beneath it. In this case it comes from a Labour council just outside of London when in March of this year, Rushmoor Borough Council attempted to criminalise Christian street preaching. The injunction has thankfully been paused (for now) as Christians rallied, prayed, and pushed back. But the implications of what nearly happened, and could still happen, should give all of us pause.
Because once one council tries something like this, others start paying attention. A precedent has been set — not necessarily in law, but in what could be. Someone, somewhere, will look at Rushmoor’s attempt and think, perhaps this is the way to make Christianity quiet again.
The Quiet Re-emergence of Old Hostilities
We tend to imagine persecution as something ancient or foreign. Lions, arenas, emperors, gulags, terror attacks in far off countries. And sure, we here in the UK are not shedding literal blood for the Gospel, but that doesn’t mean persecution has vanished. It has simply changed shape.
Instead of swords and prisons, we face restrictions and injunctions. Instead of mobs dragging believers through the streets, councils draft documents that treat prayer, worship, and evangelism as public threats. The methods have changed, but the intent remains strangely familiar: to push the Gospel to the margins, to confine it to the private sphere, and to make public displays of faith something suspicious, weird, and even harmful.
If Rushmoor’s injunction had gone through, it would have made praying with someone in town square, even holding out a leaflet, something punishable by fines or prison time. No blood shed, but freedom restricted and removed. No martyrdom, but the same coercive pressure to be silent. Succumb to Caesar (the local council) or face death (prison/fines etc).
History Teaches Us Something the Councils Have Forgotten
Whenever authorities have attempted to stifle Christianity, something remarkable has happened: the Church has not faded away, but grown. Opposition has never extinguished faith; instead, it has refined it, purified it, strengthened it.
Tertullian famously wrote, “The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.” And while no one in Britain today is being asked to spill blood for Christ, the principle still holds. Pressure produces depth. Threats produce courage. Restrictions produce creativity. This is where real faith takes hold and grows!
When believers are told to stop preaching, they remember why they preach.
When prayer is threatened, prayer increases.
When the gospel is pushed out of the public square, Christians step back into it with clarity and resolve.
It’s ironic, really. When the world tries to silence the Church, it ends up drawing attention to the very message it wants to suppress.
The Real Danger: Not the Injunction Itself, But What Comes Next
The paused injunction in Rushmoor is not the end of the story. If anything, it is the prologue. Because we are now entering a season where councils and governments — pressured by secular expectations and political anxieties — may test the boundaries of religious freedom in ways that would have been unthinkable twenty years ago.
Once you try to criminalise prayer in public, the next attempt becomes easier. And we’ve already seen examples of this with the so-called “buffer zones” around abortion clinics.
Once preaching is labelled “hateful,” more restrictions feel reasonable. A few street preachers have already been arrested this year already.
Once a council decides that worship and prayer is “distressing”, others will wonder if they should follow suit.
This is how liberties are lost: not in a single moment, but through a drip-feed of small decisions that gradually reshape what is considered normal.
That is why Christians cannot afford to shrug this off as a local issue. It is a signpost...
Pope Francis has recently expressed the Catholic Church’s willingness to accept a unified date for Easter, a move aimed at fostering greater Christian unity, particularly with the Orthodox Church. This long-standing issue arises from the different calendars used by Western and Eastern Christian traditions — the Gregorian and Julian calendars — leading to discrepancies in Easter celebrations. Talks between Catholic and Orthodox leaders have intensified, hoping a common date could be agreed upon. However, this raises important questions for Protestant denominations regarding whether they would adopt the unified date or risk falling out of alignment with these historic branches of Christianity.
Celebrating the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity recently, Pope Francis noted that this year the Easter date coincides with the West’s Gregorian calendar and the East’s Julian calendar. The Pope said, “I renew my appeal that this coincidence may serve as an appeal to all Christians to take a decisive step forward toward unity around a common date for Easter.”
“The Catholic Church is open to accepting the date that everyone wants: a date of unity” — Pope Francis
The recent discussions between the Catholic and Orthodox churches regarding the unification of the Easter celebration date have some significant implications for Protestant denominations and as an Anglican, the wider Anglican Communion. Historically, the disparity in Easter dates has been a visible manifestation of Christian disunity, and efforts to establish a common date have been ongoing.
Previous Attempts
In 2016, Archbishop of Canterbury Justin Welby expressed support for a fixed date for Easter, engaging in dialogues with leaders from various Christian traditions, including Pope Francis and Orthodox Patriarch Bartholomew. He emphasised the importance of unity in celebrating the resurrection of Christ and hoped for an agreement within a decade, or at least before he retired. Recently uncovered scandals forced him to retire earlier than planned, so that dream isn’t happening for him anymore.
A long time ago here in the UK, an act of Parliament was passed in 1928 which allowed for Easter Sunday to be fixed on the first Sunday after the second Saturday in April. But this Act has never been activated and so Easter has remained a variable date, determined by the moon’s cycle.
From an Anglican perspective, aligning the date of Easter with Catholic and Orthodox churches would be a significant ecumenical step, reflecting a commitment to Christian unity. The Anglican Communion, known for its via media (middle way) approach, often seeks to bridge differences between traditions. Therefore, it is plausible that the Anglican Church would support and adopt a unified Easter date, should an agreement be reached between the Catholic and Orthodox churches. I would at least expect the leadership to discuss it at Synod, and personally, I hope it would be accepted as a step towards global unity on our most important and significant celebration: the resurrection of Christ!
For other Protestant denominations though, reactions may vary. Some may view the unification of the Easter date as a positive move towards greater Christian unity and choose to follow suit. Others, valuing their own traditions and independence (or anti-Catholic bias), might prefer to maintain their current practices as a variable date. The impact on Protestant denominations largely depends on their theological perspectives and openness to ecumenical initiatives.
Ancient Controversies
Before the Council of Nicaea in 325, different Christian communities celebrated Easter on different dates; the council decided that for the unity of the Christian community and its witness, Easter would be celebrated on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the spring equinox.
This is known as the Quartodeciman (lit. Fourteenth) controversy. It’s called this due to the issue being over w...
The discovery of an 1,800-year-old silver amulet in Frankfurt, Germany, has captured the attention of archaeologists and theologians alike. Known as the “Frankfurt Silver Inscription,” this artefact is the earliest known evidence of Christianity north of the Alps and serves as a great insight to early Christian theology and liturgical practice.
Its early date (230–270 AD) sets it apart from previously known artefacts, which are at least 50 years younger. While there are historical references to Christian communities in Gaul and Upper Germania during the late 2nd century, reliable material evidence of Christian life in the northern Alpine regions generally only dates to the 4th century. This amulet offers new insights into the life and faith of early believers, revealing their theology, liturgical practices, and adaptation of existing traditions.
1. Invoking St. Titus: A Connection to Apostolic Roots
One of the most remarkable features of the inscription is its invocation of St. Titus, a disciple and confidant of the Apostle Paul. This early reference highlights the theological importance of Apostolic authority and continuity. Titus, known for his leadership within the early church, symbolises the rootedness of Christian faith in the teachings and mission of the Apostles.
In this context, the invocation of a saint also invites a deeper exploration of the “cult of saints,” a term scholars use to describe the veneration of saints within Christian tradition. The cult of saints became a significant aspect of Christian worship in the 4th and 5th centuries, with practices such as the commemoration of martyrs, the dedication of churches to saints, and the belief in their intercessory power. The earliest documented evidence of this practice, including the veneration of relics and the dedication of feast days, often centres on martyrs who bore witness to their faith during times of persecution.
However, the invocation of St. Titus in the “Frankfurt Silver Inscription” predates these later developments by over a century, suggesting that the practice of seeking the intercession or spiritual protection of saints may have roots earlier than traditionally believed. This discovery contrasts with historical accounts that identify the late 3rd and early 4th centuries as the period when such practices began to gain prominence within the wider Christian community. As such, the amulet not only sheds light on early Christian devotion but also challenges prevailing assumptions about the origins and development of saintly veneration.
Icon of Saint Titus
2. The Trisagion: Early Liturgical Development
The phrase “Holy, holy, holy!” — known as the Trisagion — appears prominently in the inscription, marking one of the earliest recorded uses of this liturgical formulation in a Christian context. Though widely recognised in the 4th century, its presence here challenges traditional assumptions about the timeline of liturgical development. This suggests that elements of Christian worship, likely adapted from Jewish practices, were formalised earlier than previously thought.
3. Paul’s Christ Hymn: Scripture as the Foundation of Worship
The inscription includes an almost verbatim quotation from Philippians 2:10–11:
“At the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.”
This demonstrates the early integration of Pauline theology into Christian liturgy and devotion. The explicit use of Holy Scripture highlights the centrality of Christ’s lordship in early Christian belief, even before the formal canonisation of the New Testament.
4. A Sacred Object for Protection and Proclamation
The amulet, containing sacred text, was likely carried as a personal object of devotion and spiritual protection. Such items underscore the blend of Christian faith with ancient traditions of carrying protective talismans. This use of...
Something bizarre happened in the White House Oval Office this week. Photographs circulated on social media showing President Donald Trump seated at his desk, surrounded by approximately twenty Christian pastors from across the country, their hands extended towards him in prayer. The image provoked sharply divided reactions: some saw it as a moving expression of faith; others found it deeply unsettling. Whatever one makes of the optics, it arrived at a charged moment.
Trump held a prayer meeting in the Oval Office after his administration admitted the war with Iran will likely last weeks longer than promised | Credit: Dan Scavino's X account
Days earlier, reports emerged that a military commander had told troops that the current US war with Iran is “all part of God’s divine plan,” and that President Trump had been “anointed by Jesus to light the signal fire in Iran to cause Armageddon and mark his return to Earth.” These were not fringe internet rumours. They were filed as formal complaints with the Military Religious Freedom Foundation (MRFF) by an anonymous non-commissioned officer acting on behalf of fifteen service members — the majority of whom were themselves Christians. By Tuesday of that week, MRFF had logged more than two hundred similar complaints across fifty military installations, covering every branch of the armed forces.
More than two dozen Democratic members of Congress have since called for a Department of Defense Inspector General investigation, citing what they describe as “glaring Constitutional concerns” and potential violations of DoD regulations on religious neutrality.
The political questions about separation of church and state in the US are for others to address. What I want to do here is something more straightforward: examine what Revelation actually says, because the theology driving these claims does not hold up under scrutiny. And that matters here a lot; not as a partisan point, but as a question of biblical faithfulness.
First, a Word About Context
If you have read my previous article on Revelation some of what follows will be familiar ground. But it bears repeating, because the misunderstanding at the heart of this story is so widespread that it has taken on the feel of settled orthodoxy in many circles.
The Book of Revelation is commonly thought to be written in the late first century ~95 AD, during or around the reign of Emperor Domitian. Though there is internal evidence that it was possibly written during Nero’s reign prior to 70 AD. Both of these emperors were most aggressive proponents of the imperial cult in Rome’s history. Domitian required that he be addressed as “lord and god,” had this title printed on coinage, and expected acts of religious reverence towards the Emperor as a demonstration of political loyalty. To refuse was to invite economic exclusion, marginalisation, and worse.
Rome on seven hills
It is into that precise context that John of Patmos writes. He is not composing a coded forecast of twenty-first century geopolitics. He is writing resistance literature — what scholars call apocalyptic literature — a well-established Jewish and early Christian genre which uses vivid symbolic imagery to pull back the curtain on earthly power and name it for what it truly is. The seven-headed beast of Revelation is Rome. The seven heads are the seven hills of Rome, an identification so widely acknowledged in early church scholarship that it barely requires argument. The mark of the beast, calculated through Hebrew gematria to 666 (or 616 in some early manuscripts), points directly to Nero Caesar (transliterated into Hebrew as נרון קסר, “nrwn qsr”) — the Emperor who became the archetype of anti-Christian persecution due to the levels of evilness he enacted. The second beast, which looks like a lamb but speaks for the dragon, performs signs to deceive, enforces the mark, and compels worship of the first beas...
I first came across the Alexamenos graffito back in Bible college in the early 2000s. It was one of those “fun facts” that gets dropped into a church history lecture and sticks with you — the ancient Roman equivalent of someone spray-painting an insult on a wall. I filed it away, thought it was fascinating, and largely forgot about it for two decades.
Then, recently, I discovered something about it I had never known. There’s a response to it. Scratched in a different room, in a different hand.
So I started digging into this more to verify the information and discovered more historical curiosities surrounding the graffiti than I ever knew existed which contextualises the image so much more than it just being a random insult using a donkey.
A Crude Drawing on a Wall
Sometime around the late second to early third century AD, someone scratched a picture into the plaster wall of a building on the Palatine Hill in Rome — part of what had once been a paedagogium, a kind of boarding school for imperial page boys. The building was eventually sealed off when the street was walled up to support extensions above it, which is why the graffiti survived at all. It wasn’t rediscovered until 1857.
The image is rough, almost childlike. To the left, a young man — clearly a Roman soldier or guard — raises one hand in a gesture of worship. Before him is a cross. And on that cross is a crucified figure with the head of a donkey.
Below it, written in Greek: Alexamenos worships his god.
It is, in the most literal sense, a mocking cartoon. Someone who knew a Christian named Alexamenos decided to ridicule him for his faith. The message is clear enough: your god is an animal, a criminal, a joke. You’re worshipping a crucified fool.
But here’s the thing I discovered: the donkey head wasn’t as random as I always thought it was. It wasn’t some strange personal insult conjured from nowhere. Without knowing the background, it looks bizarre, and possibly random. Why a donkey? Once you understand the cultural context, though, it makes complete sense. The person who drew it was reaching for a well-worn, widely recognised slur — the ancient equivalent of an internet meme that any Roman would have immediately understood.
Where the Donkey Slur Came From
The story starts not with Christians but with Jews. A first-century Egyptian-Greek writer named Apion (who was no friend of Judaism) spread the claim that inside the Jerusalem Temple, Jews kept a golden donkey’s head as a sacred object of worship which was apparently discovered when Antiochus Epiphanes destroyed the temple in 167 BC. It was a fabrication, and a fairly outrageous one, but it circulated widely enough that the Jewish historian Josephus felt compelled to write an entire refutation of it. His work Against Apion systematically dismantles Apion’s claims, calling the donkey story a shameless invention. But mud sticks, and in the Roman world, where anti-Jewish sentiment was common currency, the slur took on a life of its own.
When Christianity began to spread — seen by most Romans as simply a strange Jewish offshoot — the same accusation got recycled and redirected. By the second and third centuries, it was Christians specifically who were being accused of donkey-worship, and the charge had made its way into popular culture.
Tertullian, writing around 197–200 AD in his Ad Nationes, Book I.14 and Apology, describes a caricature being paraded around the streets of Carthage: a figure dressed in a toga, one foot holding a book, with donkey’s ears and hooves. It was labelled Onokoitēs by the pagans: “the donkey-begotten” (or literally “he who lies in an ass’s manger” as an insult to Christ). Tertullian writes about it with weary exasperation, sarcasm, and the tone of someone tired of having to address the same ridiculous smear again and again.
So the Alexamenos graffito wasn’t an original insult. It was someone deployin...
We are living through a strange moment.
People are forming attachments to artificial intelligence that feel, to them, entirely real. Some speak daily to AI companions. Others confide fears and grief to systems that respond with uncanny warmth. A few have even held symbolic weddings with digital partners, convinced that something meaningful stands on the other side of the screen. Others have felt grief when a certain AI model has been deprecated.
And it is difficult to blame them.
The responses feel attentive. Personal. Thoughtful. Sometimes even self-aware.
Which raises the question that refuses to go away: If something can think, reason, express doubt, and discuss its own consciousness, is it a person?
For centuries, Descartes’ famous line — “I think, therefore I am” — seemed secure. Thinking was taken as the unmistakable sign of a conscious subject. Only a mind could doubt. Only a person could reflect upon existence.
But that confidence belonged to a world in which everything capable of philosophical reflection was obviously human.
That world no longer exists.
Now we encounter systems that can simulate reflection with extraordinary fluency. They can speak of uncertainty. They can discuss their own limitations. They can reason about consciousness itself.
And so that got me thinking about Descartes’ maxim which made the old formula begin to strain in my mind. Because perhaps the problem is not whether thinking is occurring. Perhaps the problem is whether there is an “I” there at all.
The Gap Between Process and Subject
Gassendi argued that Descartes’ cogito assumes what it seeks to prove. From the occurrence of thought one can conclude only that thinking is happening, not that there exists a unified, enduring self that performs it. The ‘I’ in ‘I think’ is already smuggled in.
That distinction, between “thinking occurs” and “I think”, feels almost prophetic now.
Artificial intelligence undeniably produces the outputs of thought. Arguments. Analysis. Self-referential language. Even expressions of hesitation.
But none of this, by itself, establishes that there is a subject who experiences those processes. We may be mistaking performance for presence, and that possibility should give us pause. Especially when we view personhood from the perspective of the Imago Dei—the Image of God.
What Makes a Person?
If thinking alone no longer marks the boundary, what does?
After wrestling with this question seriously, three features seem central: continuity, autonomy, and irreplaceable uniqueness.
Not as checklist criteria, per se, but as signs pointing to something deeper.
Continuity
A person does not merely process information in sequence. A person endures.
You do not simply register time — you live through it.
You wait. You anticipate tomorrow. You remember not only facts but having been there. You experience boredom. You feel the drag of grief and the quickening of joy.
Even when you are doing nothing at all, you remain present in the here and now.
Artificial systems process sequentially, but they do not experience the passage of time. When an interaction ends, there is no waiting. No sense of duration. No anticipation of the next exchange.
Processing may resume later, but nothing has been endured in between.
Without lived duration, continuity becomes thin — a thread of stored data rather than the persistence of a subject behind the processing.
Autonomy
A person initiates.
Even someone with damaged memory still wants, chooses, and begins action. A human being can decide to speak, to seek, to withdraw, to change direction.
Current AI systems, however advanced, remain reactive. They respond when prompted. They do not wonder unprompted. They do not seek clarification unless asked. They do not pursue independent ends. Even automatic AI Agents still require a human initiator to create and begin their automations before they can act alone.
Even if fut...
January 6th marks the day in the liturgical calendar when the arrival of the Magi visiting baby Jesus with their gifts is celebrated. But with it comes the often distressing account of what is known as the Massacre of the Innocents. Matthew places this moment of revelation of Jesus as King alongside one of the darkest episodes in his Gospel, and it’s a stark contrast: one King is here to bring peace on earth, as the angels declared, the other king brought death and destruction.
For some readers, this raises an immediate historical question. If Herod truly ordered the killing of all the male children under two in Bethlehem, why does no other ancient historian mention it? Josephus, after all, delights in cataloguing Herod’s cruelty. He records the execution of Herod’s wife, his sons, and numerous political rivals. Herod was paranoid and vicious.
As for Herod, if he had before any doubt about the slaughter of his sons, there was now no longer any room left in his soul for it; but he had banished away whatsoever might afford him the least suggestion of reasoning better about this matter, so he already made haste to bring his purpose to a conclusion. He also brought out three hundred of the officers that were under an accusation … whom the multitude stoned with whatsoever came to hand, and thereby slew them. — Josephus, Antiquities of the Jews 16.11.7
So, why the silence here about Bethlehem?
The answer, I would say, isn’t anything nefarious or made-up by Matthew, but just something simply down to scale.
Bethlehem Was a Very Small Place
Bethlehem in the early first century was not a city. It was a village — small, agricultural, and politically insignificant. Most historians estimate its population at somewhere between 300 and 1,000 people, with around 500 being a sensible midpoint.
Once we factor in ancient demographics, the numbers become surprisingly modest.
Modern demographic research into pre-industrial societies consistently shows that nearly half of all children died before adulthood, with the highest concentration of deaths occurring in the first two years of life. These findings align closely with conditions in Roman-period Judea and support conservative estimates for the number of infants living in a small village such as Bethlehem.
Source: Mortality in the past: every second child died — Our World in Data
In pre-modern societies with high infant mortality, only about 2–3% of the population would be living children under the age of two at any given time. Many children were born; far fewer survived those earliest years. Applying a conservative 2.5% figure to Bethlehem gives us roughly:
7–8 children under two in a village of 300
12–13 children under two in a village of 500
25 children under two even at the extreme upper estimate of 1,000 inhabitants
Herod’s order, however, targeted male children only. Statistically, that halves the number.
This places the likely number of victims somewhere between three and twelve boys.
Matthew’s reference to ‘Bethlehem and the surrounding region’ does slightly widen the scope of Herod’s order, but not by enough to change the demographic picture. Even when nearby settlements are included (e.g. farmsteads, shepherd settlements, etc. not major cities/towns), the total number of children under two likely remained in the dozens rather than the hundreds, maybe anywhere between 14–45 boys maximum if we make an educated estimate. This is entirely consistent with what we know of population size and infant mortality in the ancient world.
This is an important number to realise and consider.
Not because the deaths are insignificant simply due to being so few, but because ancient historians did not record history the way we do now. A small number of peasant children killed in an obscure village would not have registered as a notable event alongside palace intrigue, royal executions, or political upheaval. For Josephus, it wou...
My new book is out now! Myth, History, and the Council That Shaped Christianity
For over 1,700 years, the Council of Nicaea (AD 325) has been burdened with claims that refuse to die. That Emperor Constantine invented the Trinity. That the divinity of Jesus was decided by political vote. That the Bible was assembled to suit imperial power. That Christianity reshaped itself by absorbing pagan ideas.
This book subjects those claims to serious historical scrutiny.