Two Futures, One Cross

 

Some golden day, Jesus will come again. For the eager Christian, this is a beautiful certainty. For the unbeliever, it sounds like a fable. Yet the difference between those two positions is not emotion — it is truth.

“Jesus in my place” is not a theory to the believer — it is a settled reality. A finished work. A fixed anchor in the storm of time. But for the unbeliever, eternity does not rest. It circles like a restless bird with nowhere to land — where will I go, what awaits me, what if I am wrong? To live there is to live suspended. Uncertainty becomes a quiet torment. Doubt does not visit; it moves in. It clings closer than a brother and whispers when the room grows still. Not knowing the truth about eternity is not intellectual neutrality — it is the most dangerous snare a soul can walk into. Only one ground is solid.

Jesus. In my place.

The difference becomes most evident when life reaches its edge. The saved face, that moment with an anchor outside themselves — not in their own goodness, but in Christ’s finished work. The lost stand with nothing but questions. One rests on a promise already secured, the other stares into a future still undefined. That contrast alone reveals the weight of the gospel. Salvation is not a religious decoration for life — it is preparation for eternity.

That is why Solomon cuts through every age, every culture, and every argument with final authority:

“Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man.”
— Ecclesiastes 12:13

This is humanity, addressed as a whole. We are not accidents wandering through history — we are created beings acting within God’s story. He directs. We respond. The villain seeks to disrupt, and disruption is exactly what we see around us.

We have reached a point where human opinion has crowned itself the final authority over God. Solomon’s instruction is treated as outdated. Everyone now claims the right to define godliness on their own terms. Men and women alike speak as if they know better than the Creator, and entire movements claim divine approval while rejecting divine order.

The woke movement is not a harmless social trend. It is a theological claim dressed in modern language. It claims that humanity can redefine morality, identity, truth — and even God’s created order — without reference to God. Scripture is explicit that order itself is not accidental. “So God created man in his own image… male and female created he them” (Genesis 1:27). Creation is structured, intentional, and declared good by the Creator.

That is not progress; it is the oldest rebellion in history repeating itself. Eden already ran that experiment. The first crack in creation began with a question, not a sword: “Yea, hath God said…?” (Genesis 3:1). The moment humanity places God’s word and God’s order on trial, it re-enacts that ancient scene. Every age invents new vocabulary for it, but the rebellion remains unchanged: the creature challenging the structure established by the Creator.

Scripture warns of what follows when that order is exchanged for human invention: “Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools… and changed the truth of God into a lie” (Romans 1:22–25). When truth is untethered from God, confusion is not liberation — it is a consequence.

When any movement — woke or otherwise — speaks as if it has authority to revise God’s design, it steps into territory reserved for the Creator alone. Sin does not become righteous because it gains cultural approval. It remains what it has always been: a breach of God’s order that required the death of Christ to repair.

The modern voice says sin is harmless, flexible, negotiable. Scripture says the opposite. Sin cost Christ His life.

If anyone believes God took sin lightly, they have not lingered long enough at the cross.

The depths to which the Father went to redeem sinners are almost beyond comprehension. When I slow down long enough to consider it, I am floored. Silenced. Paralysed by the magnitude of grace. That moment alone should shatter every illusion that rebellion is small or trivial.

This is not hatred of people. It is a refusal to lie about what destroys them. Grace never denies reality; it confronts it so it can heal it.

So, the plea is simple:

Set aside prejudice. Ask God for grace. Ask to be freed from deception.

The Bible must become the final authority again. We cannot carve out the parts we prefer and discard the rest, pretending God will adjust to match our lifestyle. Judgment is not a metaphor. It is a coming reality that no human escapes.

For the Christian, the miracle is this: Christ has already stood in that judgment in our place. The price has been paid. Yet that truth raises a piercing question — are we content to remain in the very chains He died to break?

To treat sin casually is to treat the cross casually. That warning applies to me as much as to anyone reading this. Ignoring obedience reveals misplaced value. Grace was never permission to remain enslaved.

To those caught in the modern illusion that freedom means redefining God: understand the severity of the lie. Repentance is not oppression. It is a rescue. Sin promises liberation but delivers bondage. Christ promises surrender and delivers freedom.

The devil wants humanity to be comfortable in chains. Christ died to unlock them.

The invitation still stands.

Fear God. Keep His commandments. See the brilliance of a Creator who does not enslave but redeems.

Signing off
Tyrone