In the popular Christian mind any reference to the “day of the Lord” or the “day of judgment” is likely to be conceived in final terms, as a transcendent event at the end of history. So when Paul says to the men of Athens that God has “fixed a day on which he will judge the world” (Acts 17:31), it is usually assumed, despite the narrative context, that he has in mind a judgment of all humanity, not just of the Greek-Roman civilisation that is so visible in Luke’s account. Let’s have a look, then, at the use of the phrase “day of the Lord” and a few related expressions in scripture.

Where is God in a Coronavirus World? is really a piece of old school—the old “school” of C.S. Lewis—apologetics reworked for the COVID-19 era. This slight and simple book “concentrates on the problem of natural evil,” John Lennox says. In a time of crisis we look for solace and hope. Where are we going to find it? Atheism cannot help because it can provide no rational basis for morality. “If… there is no God, and therefore there are no transcendent values, then how can there be any objective standard of good?”

Jesus is teaching in the temple (Mk. 12:35-37). He poses a question: “How can the scribes say that the Christ is the son of David?” After all, David himself said in the Holy Spirit, ‘The Lord said to my Lord, “Sit at my right hand, until I put your enemies under your feet.”’ Jesus has taken Psalm 110 to be the work of David, not a piece of court poetry written about David. So “my Lord” must be a reference to the Christ, who seemingly cannot be David’s son.

The letter to the Hebrews is a Jewish-Christian text, perhaps an exclusively Jewish-Christian text. At its theological core is the argument that Jesus has become their heavenly high priest. But he is a high priest “after the order of Melchizedek,” which means that he is not only a priest, he is also a king (Heb. 5:6, 10; 6:20; 7:1, 11, 15). This is the point that is made in the opening passage (Heb. 1:1-2:9).

I can understand why the idea of the “cosmic Christ” has come back into vogue. It is a corrective to the hyper-individualism of much modern theology—and indeed of much popular culture. It stretches Christian spirituality to encompass an eco-mysticism that is not merely pantheistic. Its association with a somewhat heterodox strand of Catholic spirituality, going back through the Franciscan Richard Rohr, and the Dominican Matthew Fox, to the Jesuit Teilhard de Chardin, has a strong appeal to jaded evangelicals. It can now draw on the stunning and vast beauty of the images of deep space provided by the Hubble telescope, and to that extent, at least, it may help to reconnect the religious and the scientific imaginations. Lastly, it is a way of speaking about incarnation apart from the traditional preoccupation with sin, shame, death, and the ethical problems of a bloody atonement theory.

We have an online Communitas “Thinklings” event coming up this week, spread over a few days, to consider the question of church and mission after the pandemic. Brian McLaren helped us launch this informal theological forum nearly 20 years ago, and we’ve kept it going fitfully. Never before online though.

I picked up Is Europe Christian? by the French political scientist Olivier Roy to help set the scene. It was published last year, so it doesn’t take coronavirus or Black Lives Matter into account. But I think it may be helpful, as we consider the impact of these more recent developments, to remind ourselves of the larger historical context.