If you grew up on Left Behind books, you’re probably wondering if Trump is the antichrist—and why your parents don’t see it

Who wore it better: Trump or Michael York as the Antichrist in the Omega Code?

Growing up evangelical in the ‘90s meant that you were likely given a steady dose of DC Talk, VeggieTales, and a dash of apocalypse anxiety. From books like Left Behind and The Visitation to cinematic terror brought to you by Thief in the Night and The Omega Code, we were pumped with an impending doom that lurked around every corner. Would we be evacuated pre-tribulation, post-trib, or mid-trib? These were moments of heavy debate for us, and the impending new millennium and Y2K panic lifted the fear to an astronomical level as some of my parents’ friends turned into apocalypse preppers. Meanwhile, my friends at youth group began to put together plans of what we would do if it turned out that us not entirely kissing dating goodbye meant that we ended up being left behind. Apparently, whether or not we would make the cut hinged on if we did over-the-clothes stuff.

Though there was no certainty as to the day or the hour when Jesus would return on a white horse to slay all of the heathens, we were all pretty sure that it would be happening relatively soon. There were a couple of things that most folks could agree on, and one was that the antichrist was going to attempt a coup of the major world governments in order to bring about world domination. Another generally agreed-upon part of this narrative is that Russia would be involved in some way. Particularly because of how some folks chose to interpret the Book of Revelation, but also because Russian accents worked really well in apocalyptic movies. Then, there were the signs of the coming tribulation; the antichrist would rise up, likely out of the business sector of New York; he would convince everyone that he was the chosen one, folks would start wearing his symbol on their foreheads, and eventually, he would receive a mortal wound to the head, but he would mysteriously survive, and the crowd would go wild!

Well, we ended up surviving the ‘90s and early aughts without so much as a single person being raptured into the heavens. Over time, the rapture and antichrist increasingly became a laughingstock with each failed attempt at predicting the day that Jesus would eventually return. Then, just before getting the final punch in my failed rapture predictions frequent shopper card… Trump got shot in the head and survived. Suddenly, a lot of conspiratorial memes flooded my timeline with many former evangelical kids, now adults, asking, “Is Trump the antichrist that our parents warned us about? And if so, why don’t my parents see it?” After all, it was our parents who bought us the books and warned us that the end was nigh! Is it possible that they have all been duped by the very Beast of the Book of Revelation that they warned us about? 

I suppose that would be possible if it weren’t for the fact that everything we were taught growing up about the End Times, tribulation, rapture, and the antichrist was an absolute fabrication, and Donald Trump being grazed by a bullet doesn’t somehow make it all true.

Unholy Sh+t

Revelation 13:3

Special Apocalypse Edition

Is Donald Trump the Antichrist?

Jesus had been raised from the dead and was chilling with his homies. After the initial shock of the whole him-being-dead-and-then-not-dead thing had finally worn off, Peter was back on his bullsh+t of asking Jesus ridiculous questions. There were very few people who loved to make Rocky look like a dolt more than John. Well, this was his second favorite thing to do; his first favorite was telling everyone that Jesus liked him the bestest. Sometimes, he did these two things at the same time, and it is there that we pick up our story. 

Peter is hanging out with Jesus, and the Lord is still a bit bent with him about the whole denying him three times thing. He asks Peter three different times if he really, really, really loves him or not, and Peter is like, “Dude, I already f+cking told you thrice!” Satisfied with this answer, Jesus proceeds to tell Peter how he is going to die. Which, if I may sidebar for a moment, is the absolutely sh+ttiest thing that Jesus ever does. Imagine your zombie friend looks you deadass in the eyes to tell you exactly how you are supposed to exit this world. Not cool, Jesus, not cool. Rightfully a little annoyed, Peter points out John and is all, “Yeah, well, what about him?” Jesus chuckles or whatever, “Well, maybe I want him to live forever because he didn’t deny me like a little b+tch lol.” As a result of this exchange, a rumor began amongst the apostles that John the Favorite would not die before seeing Jesus return in glory (John 21:20-25). 

Fast forward a couple of years and most of the OG apostles are all dead, including Peter, who allegedly died crucified upside down because he was metal as f+ck. John, being the youngest of all the apostles, was still kicking it and lived into the reign of Nero, who was by all accounts a real asshole. Though there are disputes amongst scholars about many of the accounts of the persecution of Christians, it is generally agreed that Nero was not particularly nice to those who followed this fledgling religion. Early tradition has it that John got on Nero’s last nerve and was banished to an island called Patmos, and it was there that he discovered magic mushrooms and decided to write a sequel to his gospel. Now, I am going to take a moment to acknowledge that much of what I have just said is a point of scholarly debate, and there is little consensus on whether John the Apostle (yes, yes, that Jesus loved) and John of Patmos are the same person. Furthermore, it is contested if John the Apostle even wrote the gospel attributed to him, much less the Book of Revelation (the Apocalypse of Saint John if you are nasty). That all being acknowledged and noted, for the sake of this essay, I will be mostly focusing on the earlier traditions of how folks viewed the origins of these works and what was generally believed by the early Christians concerning John, which was that he was the author of both the Gospel and the Apocalypse. 

Oh! And that they didn’t think the latter work should be included in the canon of scripture.

The Cave of the Apocalypse where John of Patmos allegedly had his vision

Some of the earlier compilations of the canon omit the Book of Revelation, including the Council of Laodicea (363–364 AD). There has been heavy debate over the centuries on whether or not the book came from a reliable source linked to the original twelve. This has resulted in many periods where the book was not included in the scriptures that could be read during the liturgy. This was especially true amongst the Eastern Orthodox Churches, whereas the Roman Catholics seemingly accepted the book much earlier on. In a surprising twist, Martin Luther did not care for the book much at all and even stated in the preface of his New Testament translation that the book was “neither apostolic nor prophetic.” He did seem to change his tune on this later down the line, but can you imagine how wildly different Protestantism would be today if he had just stuck to his guns? The Orthodox Church seemingly rejected the book because of its close association with a heretical group known as Montanists, an early version of Charismatic Christians who were obsessed with biblical prophecies, speaking in tongues, and exorcisms. 

Interestingly enough, the Roman Catholic Church didn’t fully close the canon of scripture until after Martin Luther started f+cking around with translating it, and the Eastern Churches still considered the canon somewhat more of a suggestion than absolutely closed. But our good friends, the Protestants, definitely considered the canon of scripture as completely, totally, and factually sealed. Well, I mean after they removed the books commonly known as the Apocrypha and then royally f+cked up translating it into English, thus dramatically changing some of the core points of numerous verses in the process. But right after that, it was pretty much a done deal.

Now, you might be asking yourself, “Nathan, what the actual f+ck does this have to do with Donald Trump possibly being the antichrist?” Well, I am glad you asked! First, I am just flexing my theology degree, so you know that I know what I am talking about. Second, it’s very important that you understand that the Apocalypse of Saint John (or Book of Revelation if you are nasty) is not all it was cracked up to be. 

As a matter of fact, it was not often read in churches, and most people didn’t really take a fascination with the book until way after theological developments during the early 20th century when we started having a healthy dose of superstition with a side of Jesus. The problem with the book is that it is rarely understood and easily misinterpreted. It was for this reason that it became a point of great debate amongst clerics but was rarely discussed amongst the laity. With the emergence of technology like electricity moving into people’s homes, the telephone, and motorized vehicles, the world was changing at a rapid pace. People became fascinated with the metaphysical as a new horizon of globalism lay ahead of us. The rise of Transcendentalism and the spiritualist movement gave way to folks abandoning Christianity as the de facto religion, and eventually, even atheism became a rather common course of discussion amongst the elites. Christianity was becoming viewed as a religion of the common uneducated class, and instead, the wealthy folks were having seances to summon their Wall Street brokers after the crash. Then, stuck somewhere in between two world wars, people started to search the scriptures again for an answer, and boy, did they find one.

On the heels of the Azusa Street Revival, the early 20th century gave way to notable tent revivalists like Smith Wigglesworth and Aimee Simple McPhearson. They became the answer to the secular spiritualist movements coming along to say, “Jesus can do parlor tricks, too!” They had to keep things edgy, so they eventually ran directly into the arms of Saint John and started making wild speculations of what in the f+ck he might have meant in the most unhinged (and that is a long list) book in the Bible. Basically, Protestantism gave way to Pentecostalism, and that gave birth to Evangelicalism, which became the increasingly more popular version of Christianity in America due to all the irreverent sermons and groovy music. 

They also had a new trick: the tribulation.

Smith Wigglesworth (left) and Aimee Simple McPhearson (right)

Hell was so 14th-century. They needed something with a bit more urgency. Sure, anyone can threaten you with eternal damnation, but during the Great Depression and world wars, we needed some escapism. While the whole rest of the world had Shirley Temple, Christianity was poised to promise an early (non-suicidal) exit known as the rapture.

While the Protestants were busy fanning themselves at tent revivals and being educated on what a tithe is, the whole rest of Christendom had not really worked out a good theology concerning the end of days. The Apocalypse of Saint John was more of a footnote than considered the last chapter of the Bible. The Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic Churches believed the book to be more about Christian persecution under Nero and an early framework of the liturgy. The first and second-century Christian takeaway was that the book was really about the lamb's supper and becoming the Bride of Christ, consummated on the altar when receiving the Flesh and Blood of the Risen One. Jesus, this is a horny religion when you really think about it; anyway, the point is that very little of how the early church chose to interpret the book of the man Jesus loved was about some impending doomsday prophecy and more about how Christianity, most especially Eucharistic theology, is the second coming (I swear, it’s getting hot in here).

Remember how I said that Peter said that Jesus said John would probably not die until he saw Jesus return in glory? Well, the Apocalypse of Saint John sort of wraps all that up rather nicely. Not only does it supply us with John being able to see the end of the age without him actually having to survive that long (*taps watch*, it’s been 2000 years, my guy), but it also brings around the idea that the second coming of Jesus is not some far-off event that will be heralded by angels with eyeballs all over their wings, but it is actually an event that has happened already: the Eucharist.

That’s right, kids! The return of Jesus was not believed by the early church to be some mysterious future event that would happen eventually but was an event that happened every single Sunday during the Mass. Whenever the priest consecrates the bread and the wine that becomes Jesus. This means Jesus is present at both the altar in heaven and also the altar on earth. It isn’t about us leaving this plane of existence but about us sharing in the divine right here and now. Furthermore, it's important to note that Jesus did not teach theology about leaving the planet as quickly as possible; instead, he told us that we should take care of the one he gave us in the first place. One of the first things that Adam is told in the garden is that he is supposed to take care of the planet, and that remains a pretty consistent theme throughout the whole of the scripture.

There are no examples of early Christian iconography pointing to a belief in the rapture. Typical End Times imagery depicted a table with friends.

Then we have this obscure book that has now been interpreted by some Protestant theologians as being an exit plan, the planet sucks anyways, and they just want to get to heaven as fast as possible.

Yet, almost everything that you think you know about End Times theology (eschatology if you are nasty) is rooted in mostly modern opinions by relatively uneducated tent revivalists. That brings us up to the more present time when we were flooded with this horse sh+t from the likes of Tim LaHaye and his Left Behind series that spawned a gazillion and two copycats ready to cash in on rapture fever. An entire generation of people who did too much acid at Woodstock were now a bunch of paranoid Jesus Movement Christians ready to crash the world into the crown to get off this planet after realizing that there wasn’t a cure for half the stuff they caught in the ‘70s.

Now, here we are in the year of our Lord twenty-twenty-four, and suddenly, some chucklef+ck with a cult following of devotees willing to drink the metaphorical Kool-Aid (Flavor-aid for all you historians in the crowd *winks at James Fell*). As we have all watched in horror as our parents have refused to wear masks but will wear tampons on their ears in solidarity with one of the most un-Christlike figures to arise in nearly a hundred years, it raises the question, “How did the folks who told us to watch out for the antichrist begin following a man who was the leading candidate for the job?” Rightfully, just like folks have done throughout the centuries, a few weary Democrats picked up their Bibles to see if there might be anything in it about the man who might be, as J.D. Vance once described him, “America’s Hitler.” 

When the shot heard around the world rang out almost instantly, some of the most non-religious people I knew were suddenly quoting the most misunderstood book in the Bible, “the beast seemed to have had a fatal wound, but the fatal wound had been healed. The whole world was filled with wonder and followed the beast (Revelation 13:3).” Why did y’all go and do that? The last thing that bloated ego of his needs is to think that he is personally mentioned in the f+cking Bible. for Christ’s sake! Make no mistake, that motherf+cker does not need any encouragement, y’all. He doesn’t care where he leaves his imprint on history as long as he is remembered. If that happens to be as the antichrist, so be it, I assure you. He will take whatever we give him and turn it into a talking point and have all these dumbasses (sorry about calling your parents dumbasses) tattooing 666 on their foreheads by the end of the f+cking week if we aren’t careful. So, allow me to put this to rest; Trump is not the antichrist.

In order for that to be true, we must make some wild assumptions of correctness here. First, you have to believe that the Apocalypse of Saint John should have ever been part of the canon of scripture, which is heavily debatable. Once you make that leap, you’ve got to accept that the interpretations of that book by a group of Pentecostals in the early 1900s who were hooked on heroin got it right. Then, you must take a hop, skip, and a jump on over to Tim “I believe that Dr. Martin Luther King is a heretic” LaHaye got any of this right. Yes, what happened to Trump fits the narrative of what we grew up believing about the end times and the antichrist, but in order to accept that he is the antichrist is to accept all of the other horrific bullsh+t that comes along with this dog crap theology. I am wholly unwilling to do that. 

The most prevailing theory surrounding the Apocalypse of Saint John is that it was a coded text meant to get past the guards while John was imprisoned at Patmos. He wrote an intentionally confusing manuscript about Christian theology, how to survive the coming persecution, and about how Jesus was already here in the bread and wine. The Beast referenced in this work is likely Nero, and the fear of the Beast rising again probably found its origin in the belief that Nero didn’t really kill himself but fled to the mountains or something with the intent to return again to reclaim his throne at a later date. Almost everything that happens in the Book of Revelation can perfectly parallel what was happening in and around Rome during the time in which John would have been in exile. There is nothing mysterious or prophetic here; it’s just an old dude trying to write a book on theology at a time when using certain words would have moved him from Cell Block 666 to death row. That’s the whole point. It was never intended to become some Christianity horoscope that could easily be interpreted to mean anything. 

The antichrist, in the mind of John, was a man named Nero. He did not close his eyes and see a flash of orange being sideswiped by a high-velocity projectile and think, “Dude, I need to warn a bunch of Americans about this guy.” He was worried about his folks at home in Rome. He didn’t even know we existed. It is that very type of nationalism that got us into this mess in the first place, and more American-centrism will not get us out of it. There is no value in speculating if Trump is the antichrist anymore than there was value in it when our parents shoved this nonsense on us back in the '90s. It was rubbish then, and it is hogwash now.

I will, however, concede this: he is the antichrist.

Now, I mean that in as much as anything or anyone who is the antithesis of Jesus is the antichrist. John was not warning us about any specific person but an idea; something he called the spirit of the antichrist. In 1st John 4, he stated, “Dear friends, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God because many false prophets have gone out into the world. This is how you can recognize the Spirit of God: Every spirit that acknowledges that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God, but every spirit that does not acknowledge Jesus is not from God. This is the spirit of the antichrist, which you have heard is coming and even now is already in the world.” John didn’t see the antichrist as something far off but an idea that existed in his own time, and also exists in our own: being as asshole.

The scriptures are clear that God wants us to care for the foreigner, the destitute, the orphans, the starving, the imprisoned, or, as Jesus liked to summarize, our neighbor. That is the spirit of God, to love everyone and be kind. It’s really that simple. Therefore, the spirit of the antichrist is the opposite of that; it is cruel, unkind, uncaring, self-centered, or, as the antichrist likes to summarize, everyone is our enemy. In as much as John said that the false prophets will always be amongst us, I can say without any theological exception that Donald Trump lives in the spirit of an antichrist. Everything he says and does is the opposite of what we were taught growing up. Jesus espouses forgiveness, while Trump seeks revenge. Jesus says to love our neighbor, and Trump wants to build a wall to keep them out. Jesus says to heal the sick, and Trump wants to take away our healthcare. Jesus says to feed the poor, and Trump wants to end food stamps. Jesus says to care for the widow, and Trump wants to take away her social security. They could not possibly be more different. Trump lives in the spirit of the antichrist, like many others before him, and sadly many who will come after him, by teaching a message that is in direct contrast to that of the King of Kings.

All his clipped ear means is that he is feral, not inevitable.