The church of Acts was characterized by (what theologians call) an eschatological urgency. The end of all things was at hand. The Son of David had come to usher in the Kingdom of God. The Second Adam had fathered a new creation which would finally fill the earth with the glory of God through His image bearing worshippers. The gift of the Spirit was empowering Christ’s witnesses to run with His gospel to the regions beyond. Martyrs shed streams of blood while overcoming the present evil age because the Messianic kingdom of Shalom was not far away. Jesus’ return was imminent.

Yet even within the lifetime of the Apostle John, dark trouble loomed on the horizon. The great danger was not external barriers — the gates of Hades cannot prevail against the living Church — but rather internal trouble. Worldliness had begun infesting the Messianic communities to such an extent that, e.g., Jesus wanted to vomit the Laodicean church out of His mouth.

Undoubtedly the harsh rebukes which Jesus delivered in His Apocalypse helped spur at least some measure of repentance and fidelity. Over the next two hundred years, many believers maintained a faithful testimony through local attacks. Indeed, Diocletian’s empire-wide persecution only served to prove that the sword can’t eliminate the corporate body of a resurrected Messiah. It would seem, however, that the shrewd serpent also took notice of that fact and adjusted strategy accordingly.

The fourth century AD witnessed some paradigm-shifting developments, as symbolically foretold in prophetic Scripture, which have profoundly affected the character of the global Jesus movement from then until today. Stated simply, a contingency of the forces of darkness seem to have concluded: “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.”

Anyone who has read Animal Farm or Hunger Games knows the trope, and anyone who has watched a full cycle of almost any political revolution has seen how powerfully this motif works. When oppressed underdogs get the upper hand they are easily tempted to become the very thing they hated and fought against. The Old Roman Beast of the Sea was unable to devour the believers, so the New Roman Beast of the Earth said, “Let’s tame this thing and make it into a Christian power-state which will watch over us and keep us from harm!”

So here we are. Today, whether you live in America or Afghanistan, China or Canada, the very idea that an oasis of Christendom beckons you, that a strong guardian protector stands ready to provide you a home in this world, acts like a firehose quenching the flames of the martyrdom spirit which kept the zealous early church ablaze. Satan is a fool, but he’s not dumb. He wildly outsmarted us this time. The false prophet’s greatest deception is not the bitter waters of Islam, Communism, or secular liberalism. It is the sweetly enticing embrace of Christian nations.