Deep in the recesses of my memories I can recall serious conversations about “The End.” Bits and pieces of adult talk would float out to me as I and other children played in an adjacent room — comments about persecution and trouble, hunger and death. What I heard made me afraid. At a very young age, I knew fear. Fear of the future. Fear of the unknown, that no promise of an eventual heaven could erase.
Some of us still carry that fear. It blights the challenging and apocalyptic future in our spiritual DNA, branded in the very essence of our name as Adventists.