Now, for the first part of my ministry, I saw prophecy as a circus. I was like, there is real Bible study over here, and the crazy prophecy world over there. So I get it, but Biblical prophecy was meant to anchor us; it has instead become a wind that blows us in circles. Prophecy was supposed to steady the saints, but too often it rattles us. Everyone has a theory, everyone has a chart, everyone has a headline that fits perfectly — until the next headline fits better. And I know I fit in that category as well. The irony is not missed on me, but all you have to do is glance at your social media feed, and you can watch people tie a verse to anything that moves in the world, like children trying to catch butterflies with fishing nets. What was meant to be revelation becomes improvisation. And what was meant to be clear becomes a mirror for whatever we fear the most.
I’m watching this happen in the place that matters most right now — Israel. The church is splitting its seams over Israel’s place in God’s plan, whether the promises still stand, whether the church has replaced the nation, whether God’s hand is still upon the land and the people He chose. Good people argue with fire in their eyes. Good pastors draw lines in the sand as if they’re sure their camp alone is safe. This is really seen in the conservative political arena. I believe this issue will only become a deeper divide, and it is far more than just a difference in end-time opinions.
And the painful truth is that both sides can make their case sound convincing. That is what troubles me. If two competing visions can each sound airtight, then something deeper is off. Something at the foundation. That something is the starting line — interpretation.
People hear that word and think of scholars with thick glasses or pastors in old libraries. But every believer interprets the moment they open the Book. The trouble is, we don’t notice we’re doing it. We read a prophecy and think we’re reading plain words. But we’re really reading those words through years of sermons, charts, traditions, childhood Bible pictures, favorite teachers, political leanings and inherited fears. We think we’re seeing Scripture, but more often we’re seeing someone else’s interpretation of Scripture, handed to us long ago when we were too young or too trusting to question it. And once something becomes the lens, it becomes invisible.
That is how prophecy becomes wonky. And that word is childish, I know. I borrowed it from my girls. But it’s honest. But prophecy is not crooked. Our approach is. You can take the same verse and twist it into 20 shapes without trying. You can turn a falling star into a missile, a comet, a dictator, a satellite or the logo of a company you don’t like, all before lunch. You can make the locusts of Revelation into helicopters, drones, microchips, ideologies, influencers, genetic experiments or whatever group of people you think pose the greatest threat this decade. It is easy. Too easy. Easy enough that 2,000 years of saints did not come up with those ideas, but a man with an internet connection can make them sound certain.
Prophecy becomes whatever the interpreter fears, or whatever he hopes, or whatever he grew up hearing. That is interpretation — quiet, instinctive, unnoticed, but powerful. It is the rudder beneath the boat. The direction is set long before the wind hits the sail.
I have stood in rooms full of faithful believers and watched it happen. I put a verse on the screen with no commentary, no background, no nudging. Revelation 8:10. A star falls from heaven, burning like a torch. And before I can draw a breath, the room pours out five interpretations. All confident. All different. All sincere. None anchored. And then the locusts of Revelation 9, and the room goes wild again. What they didn’t know was that they weren’t interpreting the Bible — they were interpreting their expectations of the Bible. Their instincts, not the text, guided the answers.
Interpretation is not a matter of intelligence. It is a matter of starting lines. A man who begins on one shore will never reach the same destination as the man who starts on another, no matter how fiercely both row. And right now, the church is rowing from different shores. Some look at Israel through a symbolic-first lens — where the nation becomes the church, the land becomes a spiritual blessing and the battles become internal struggles. Others see Israel as Israel, the land as land, the covenants as covenants — but even among them are variations, sub-schools, streams within streams. The symbolic-first approach has its logic. The straightforward approach has its strengths. Both have camps, scholars and histories behind them. But they are not the same starting line. And if you start at different lines, you will never argue apples to apples. You will argue an apple against the shadow of an orange and wonder why no one agrees.
This is not the part where I tell you which camp I prefer, though I have one — I will do that in the next article. This is the part where I tell you that unless we at least begin at the same starting line — with clarity about how we are interpreting — we will never know whether the Bible disagrees with itself, or if we simply disagreed before we ever opened it. Interpretation isn’t the whole race, but it is the start. And if the start is crooked, the finish will be, too.
So, let’s name the truth plainly. Every believer interprets. Every reader brings something to the page. Every prophecy becomes a reflection of the lens we hold, whether we know it’s there or not. If we want to hear what God actually said, instead of what someone once told us He meant, then we must step back to the beginning and ask the question we never ask: How do I interpret what I am reading? What instincts am I bringing to it? What tradition shaped me? What lens did I inherit? And is it the one God intended, or simply the one I learned?
Prophecy does not begin in Revelation. It begins at the starting line of interpretation — clear, honest, shared. If we can start there, then we will find our way forward, not by matching verses to headlines, but by letting the Word speak in the way it was given. And only then will prophecy be what it was meant to be: a light on the path, steady and unbroken.
