DOOM AND GLOOM. That’s the constant drumbeat of the day. Scroll your social media feed, flip on cable news, or even just sit in some church pulpits on Sunday morning and you’ll hear the same chorus: the end is near. Whether it’s criminals, demons, immigrants, politicians, or your Aunt Sue, there’s always a phantom villain waiting in the shadows to finish off humanity.

The message is simple: There’s no hope. Nothing matters. Nothing can be made whole. But don’t worry, there’s always a cure for sale: a doomsday survival course, a silver investment, antidepressants, or some other product from the endless well of our beloved bag of ready-to-buy quick fixes. Tap your card. Sign the line. The doctor is in and he’ll see you now. For a fee of course!

The deep-seated fear of everything and everyone often seeps into our institutions, setting us on a path of “hold” or worse, “retreat.” When everything is crashing down, survival feels like the only reasonable goal. I’m sure the surrender of our institutions to hopelessness about the future doesn’t have any knock-on mental health effects for those they influence… Right?

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I live in Alabama. Around here, church signs are plastered every year with John 3:16:

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

Most churches hold this up as the cornerstone of Christianity, that Jesus died for individual salvation so each of us has a ticket out of hell if we believe. But here’s the problem: hardly anyone keeps reading. The very next verse says:

For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved.

The way I read it – this changes everything.

The Great Story was not primarily about snatching individuals out of fire, it was about saving the world. All of it. Creation itself. John 3:16 and 3:17 only make sense together. We are redeemed, yes, but as part of God’s plan to redeem the whole cosmos. This echoes Isaiah 45:2:

I will go before thee, and make the crooked places straight: I will break in pieces the gates of brass, and cut in sunder the bars of iron.

This is the heartbeat of redemption: light swallowing darkness, crooked places made straight, iron bars broken.

When Jesus redeems us, our actions naturally change and the world around us begins to change too. The ordinary becomes holy. The everyday becomes part of Heaven breaking in.

Marriage. Parenting. Walking the dog. Showing up for work. Helping your neighbor with her yard. Having a beer with a trusted friend. These are not wasted hours. These are the work of redemption if you’re walking in Christ. And with redemption comes blessing, not just in the next life, but here and now.

So we should not expect the world to collapse deeper into shadow. Quite the opposite. Redeemed people bring order, healing, and hope. Changed people change the world. Heaven is built brick by brick through the choices we make, the lives we touch, and the love we share.

I believe Jesus will succeed in His plan to redeem creation. And if He does, then the future is not dim. The future is bright.

So lean into the light. Do the hard, holy work of reversing the curse.

The best is yet to come.