The Death of a Pope, the Death of the World, and the Death of Ourselves

The Death of a Pope, the Death of the World, and the Death of Ourselves

With the recent death of the Pope, it didn’t take long for a lot of people — some Christian, some not — to start writing and posting about how this must be a clear signal that we are entering the end of days. I see it all over: Instagram preachers, TikTok prophets, YouTube documentaries hastily put together with ominous music in the background. It’s as if the whole world is desperate to tie together what they see today with what was written centuries ago — prophecies about the different popes, how when one thing happens to a certain pope, it means the clock on history itself is finally running out of time.

And to be honest, I get it. I really do.

From my own experiences in life, when something new happens — something that shakes me a bit or even just something exciting — my mind races ahead. I connect it back to what’s happened before, and then I start guessing what the future might look like. It's almost automatic. It’s the way we protect ourselves, right? We think, "If I know what’s coming, maybe I can brace for it. Maybe I can avoid being hurt."

But the more I walk with Christ, the more I see that God created us for something deeper than that.
He didn’t call us to be fortune-tellers.
He didn’t call us to live in anxiety.
He didn’t call us to live chained to yesterday’s mistakes or tomorrow’s fears.

When we gave our lives to Him, He erased our past sins — washed away completely by the blood of Jesus — and called us to live in the present moment through the power of the Holy Spirit.
Not clinging to yesterday.
Not panicking about tomorrow.
But being fully alive today.

When we obsess over guessing the future — whether it’s world events, the death of popes, or our own personal crossroads — we rob ourselves of the very thing Christ died to give us: abundant life right now.

Death at Conception

This might sound a little dark to some, but really, it’s the plain truth:
From the very moment God created the heavens and the earth, they began to die.
The moment Adam took his first breath, he was moving toward his last.
And every child born into this world — from the tiniest baby to the mightiest king — begins the slow, inevitable journey toward death the second they are conceived.

It’s not a curse in the way we think of it.
It’s part of the created order.

Genesis 3 shows us where death entered the story. Adam and Eve disobeyed, and the perfect, eternal life they were meant to live was broken. Death wasn’t supposed to be our story — but it is now. And even though Christ came and conquered death, even though He promises us eternal life with Him, these earthly bodies of ours are still decaying.

James 4:14 reminds us:
"What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes."

It’s sobering.
It’s humbling.
But it’s also freeing if we let it be.

We don’t have to cling so hard to this life.
We don’t have to predict when it will end.
Because if we’re walking with Christ, the moment of our physical death is simply the doorway to eternal life with Him.

The Temptation to Predict the Future

I think there's a deep yearning in all of us to make sense of the world around us.
When someone influential like the Pope dies, it shakes the foundation a little.
It reminds us that even the biggest figures on the world stage are still mortal, still human.
And so, we start pulling out the old prophecies, the visions, the interpretations, trying to read the tea leaves.

But here's the thing:
Jesus Himself warned us against living that way.

In Matthew 24:36, Jesus said:
"But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father."

If even Jesus — while He walked this earth — didn’t claim to know the hour, why do we think we can?

Instead of living on the edge of our seats, constantly scanning the horizon for signs of the end, Jesus calls us to be about His Father’s business.
To work while it is day.
To love while we still have breath.
To serve without wasting a single heartbeat.

Three Ways to Focus on Christ and Not Guess the Future

So, how do we do that?
How do we turn our hearts away from fortune-telling and fear, and back toward the face of Christ?

Here are three ways:

1. Live Daily in Active Obedience

One of the most powerful shifts in my own life has been realizing that following Christ is not a one-time decision — it’s an everyday surrender.
Luke 9:23 says:
"Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me."

Daily.
Not once a week.
Not when a big world event happens.
Not when it’s convenient.

If I’m living in active obedience today — loving my neighbor, forgiving my enemies, giving generously, serving faithfully — then I’m doing exactly what Jesus called me to do, no matter what tomorrow brings.

It doesn’t mean we bury our heads in the sand.
It means we trust that if we focus on living like Christ today, we’re ready for whatever tomorrow holds — without the guessing games.

2. Worship Instead of Worry

I know it sounds almost cliché, but it's true: worship and worry can't live in the same heart.
When the news gets loud and the internet starts boiling over with theories and predictions, it’s easy to get sucked in.
But Psalm 46:10 calls to us:
"Be still, and know that I am God."

Be still.
Not be frantic.
Not be investigative.
Not be anxious.

Worship centers us.
It reminds us who’s really in control.
It lifts our eyes from the crumbling thrones of men to the eternal throne of the King of Kings.

Instead of worrying about the death of a pope, the wars and rumors of wars, the shifting political powers — what if we worshiped louder?
What if, instead of doom-scrolling, we sang praise?
What if, instead of predicting, we prayed?

3. Love Without Reservation

When Jesus was asked what the greatest commandment was, He didn’t say, “Figure out the signs of the times.”
He said this in Matthew 22:37-39:
"Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind... and love your neighbor as yourself."

That’s it.
That’s the assignment.

The best preparation for the end — whether it comes in a thousand years or tomorrow — is to love recklessly today.
To love the people around you so well that they can't help but wonder about the hope inside you.
To live so generously, so humbly, so full of light, that darkness trembles when you walk into a room.

When we focus on love, we are focusing on Christ — because God is love.

Our Time is Always Short

Sometimes when I hear people say, "We must be in the end times," I want to say, "We’ve always been in the end times."

Paul thought he was living in the last days.
The early church lived like Jesus might return tomorrow — because maybe He would.

And so should we.

Not with panic.
Not with conspiracy theories.
But with urgency and purpose and joy.

Hebrews 10:24-25 says:
"And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together... but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching."

The Day is always approaching.
But the focus isn’t on the Day.
The focus is on how we live until it comes.

Final Thoughts: A Better Way to Watch

I’m not against watching the signs.
Jesus Himself told us to be awake, to be aware.
But there’s a difference between being awake and being obsessed.

Being awake means your lamp is full of oil, like the wise virgins in Matthew 25.
It means you’re ready.
It means you’re about your Father’s business.
It means you’re living a life that says, "Come, Lord Jesus," and really means it.

Obsessing, on the other hand, robs you of today.
It clouds your mind.
It paralyzes your heart.
It makes you a prisoner to fear instead of a child of faith.

So let’s be watchers.
But let’s be workers, too.
Let’s be worshipers.
Let’s be lovers of souls.
Let’s be builders of the Kingdom here and now, not fortune-tellers of a Kingdom that is already on its way.

Because the truth is, whether Christ comes back tonight or a thousand years from now, our mission hasn’t changed:
Live like Jesus.
Love like Jesus.
Serve like Jesus.

Until He calls us home.

Saturday, 26 April 2025