The Gospel - Part 4: The Gospel and the Age to Come
The Bible often talks about two main periods of history: this present age (the one we’re in now) and the age to come (the one God is bringing). The dividing line between these two ages is what the Jewish people call Yom HaShem—the Day of the Lord. In Hebrew, it literally means “the Day of the Name,” or more clearly, God’s Day. This theme becomes increasingly significant as we move through the prophetic literature. It really gains momentum in the writings of the prophets, but it actually shows up even earlier.
For Jesus’ Jewish audience, this idea wasn’t new. They grew up expecting a future time when God would fix everything—when the Messiah would come, justice would be done, and the world would be made right. What shocked many of them was that this restoration would come through Jesus—first through His suffering, and later through His return.
Paul talks about this too:
20 that he worked in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, 21 far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the one to come. (Ephesians 1:20–21, ESV Bible)
Right now, we live in a broken world. We still face temptation. We still feel the effects of sin. But we also have hope. That’s what the Gospel brings—hope that this age is temporary, and a better one is coming.
The Day of the LORD in the Hebrew Scriptures
One of the earliest allusions to the Day of the LORD and the coming age is seen right after the golden calf incident in the Torah (Exodus 32). You may remember how Moses interceded on behalf of the people when God was ready to destroy them. Moses pleaded with God, saying essentially, “If you’re not going with us, then I’m not going.” And in that interaction, God responds with mercy—but He also says something critical:
“But now go, lead the people to the place about which I have spoken to you; behold, my angel shall go before you. Nevertheless, in the day when I visit, I will visit their sin upon them.” (Exodus 32:34, ESV Bible)
In other words, there is a day coming—a set day—when He will bring justice and hold people accountable.
This idea develops throughout the prophets and becomes known as Yom HaShem, the Day of the Lord. It’s not a vague idea of judgment always happening in the background. It’s a future, appointed day when God will set things right.
Now, this can be unsettling, especially if we’ve grown up in a setting where we’ve been taught to interpret world events through a lens of constant judgment—“That hurricane? That’s God's judgment.” Or, “That nation’s collapse? That’s what happens when you go against God.” It can become comforting, especially in the West, to think that the way things are right now reflect God’s approval or disapproval.
But here's the problem with that: If we believe God is constantly balancing the scales now, then it’s easy to assume we’re favored because we’re comfortable. We have wealth. We have peace. But the Day of the Lord challenges that assumption. It reminds us that many wrongs are not yet righted, and many injustices are still waiting for God’s response—including ours.
If God hasn’t settled all the accounts yet, then our account isn’t settled either. That realization should cultivate humility in us.
Let’s look at one of the clearest early prophetic references to this day—Isaiah 2:12, 17:
“For the Lord of hosts has a day against all that is proud and lofty, against all that is lifted up —and it shall be brought low… And the haughtiness of man shall be humbled, and the lofty pride of men shall be brought low, and the Lord alone will be exalted in that day.” (Isaiah 2:12, 17, ESV Bible)
This day is holy—set apart—because unlike every other day, it will be the day when no one exalts themselves but God alone is exalted. Until that day, people continue to boast, to manipulate power, to enrich themselves, and to build their own names. But on that day, all pride will be humbled.
There are many more references to the Day of the Lord throughout the prophets. It’s a sobering theme, but also a hopeful one—for it tells us that God will not let injustice endure forever, and His justice will come with clarity, finality, and righteousness.
The Day of the LORD can be seen as “the day between the ages.” It doesn’t instantly fix everything like the snap of a finger, but it marks a clear turning point in history. It’s when justice, long delayed, begins to be dealt out.
Things Won’t Always Be This Way
For a long time, theological debates centered on the millennium—this concept of a thousand-year reign. Fifty years ago, where you stood on the millennium could define your entire view of Scripture. But that’s changed. You can find people across the theological spectrum who interpret that period differently.
What’s important to note is that the idea of a millennial age predates Christianity. It comes from Second Temple Jewish thought, where many believed there would be an inaugural phase of God’s kingdom before the full restoration. Some thought it would last a thousand years, some two thousand, others a different number—but all agreed that it began with justice.
That’s the key point: before the kingdom comes in fullness, there is a reckoning.
Jesus echoes this in Matthew 25:
“When the Son of Man comes in His glory, and all the angels with Him, He will sit on His glorious throne. All nations will be gathered before Him, and He will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates sheep from goats... Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.” (Matthew 25:31–32, 46, ESV Bible)
The takeaway is this: eternal destinies are not finalized until the Day of the Lord. It’s the moment where outcomes are settled. And that reinforces the gravity of what the prophets foresaw: that a real day of divine justice is still ahead.
Now, practically, this can be part of how you talk to people about the Gospel. When having conversations—even with complete strangers—listen to their stories. People carry pain, injustice, wounds. And when you don’t know what to say, one simple truth remains:
“Things won’t always be this way.”
That one line opens hearts. Because deep down, we all know something’s broken. In the world, in others, and in ourselves. And when you tell someone that God has a day coming where He will deal with it—where the people who got away with it won’t get away with it forever—it connects.
But of course, the flip side is sobering. The things we’ve done—the ways we’ve responded to injustice, the sin in our own lives—those things will also be dealt with. That’s why we preach repentance.
So here’s the real Gospel promise:
Things won’t always be this way.
That’s not wishful thinking. That’s hope anchored in the justice of God. The Day of the Lord will separate the temporary chaos of this present age from the eternal peace of the age to come.
And we live in the tension between those two days.
Let’s take a look at 2 Corinthians 4—specifically verses 17 and 18. These two lines are incredibly intentional and loaded with meaning.
“For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” (2 Corinthians 4:17–18)
The real contrast Paul is making isn’t just between visible and invisible things. It’s between what is presently seen and what is not yet seen. It’s a contrast between the present age and the age to come.
Right now, Paul says, we’re experiencing “light and momentary troubles.” But these aren't just random sufferings—they’re actually producing something in us: an eternal weight of glory. So Paul says, don’t fix your eyes on what you see now—because all of this is temporary. Instead, anchor your focus on what’s coming. On what’s eternal.
If we could learn to see our troubles as “light and momentary,” it would radically reshape how we live.
So many of our issues—especially in the West—become magnified out of proportion. Addiction, anxiety, entitlement… much of it stems from seeing our pain as the ultimate reality. But Paul’s list of “light and momentary troubles” in this chapter is no small thing—he’s talking about beatings, persecution, imprisonment. And even those, he calls “light” because he’s comparing them to the glory that’s coming.
Paul picks up this same idea in Romans 8.
“Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in His sufferings in order that we may also share in His glory. I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us... Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship—the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.” (Romans 8:17–25)
There’s a clear progression here:
Suffering now → Glory later
Present groaning → Future adoption
Temporary struggle → Eternal resurrection
Paul describes this future hope as “adoption to sonship,” and he clarifies what that means: the redemption of our bodies. In other words, resurrection. That’s the ultimate hope—the bodily, physical (not spiritual) resurrection at the return of the Messiah.
And notice how he frames it: “In this hope we were saved.” If we already had everything now, there would be no need for hope. But since we’re still waiting, hope is essential—and it’s tied directly to what has not yet happened.
Now here’s where we often go wrong.
We sometimes think that certain theological ideas are new just because we’ve only recently heard of them. But many of the teachings that sound “modern” are actually quite ancient. One example is the idea of realized eschatology—the belief that the promises of the future age have already happened in a spiritual sense. Eschatology is a big word that simply means "the study of the end of things." In a biblical or theological context, it refers to what the Bible says about the future. In short, eschatology is about how the story ends—what God has planned for the world, for humanity, and for eternity. It's the part of theology that deals with hope, justice, and the ultimate future God is bringing.
Realized eschatology developed in the early centuries of the Church, often in contrast to Jewish expectations. Over time, some Christian leaders began to reinterpret the promises of the Torah and the Prophets—those made to Israel—as already fulfilled, but only spiritually. They argued that the kingdom had come, the resurrection had happened (in a spiritual way), and the judgment was behind us.
In short, they believed the future had been realized now—hence the term realized eschatology.
But that’s not what Paul teaches. Paul consistently points to a future glory, a coming resurrection, and a Day of the Lord that still lies ahead. And his instruction to the Church is to live now in light of what’s coming—not to pretend it's already here.
So when Paul says, “Fix your eyes on what is unseen,” he’s calling us to live by future-oriented faith, not present comfort. And when he calls our troubles “light and momentary,” he’s not downplaying our pain—he’s magnifying the glory that’s coming.
The Jewish Eschatological Hope of the First Century
Let’s talk about three major components of Jewish eschatological hope in the first century—these were central expectations for devout Jews at the time of Jesus and the apostles:
The resurrection of the body
The coming of the kingdom of God
The Day of the Lord—a day of final judgment and justice
What’s fascinating is that by the 50s and early 60s AD—within just a few decades of Jesus’ resurrection—Gentile teachers were already going around saying that all three of these hopes had already been fulfilled spiritually.
Paul addresses this directly in 2 Thessalonians. He warns the followers of Jesus not to be deceived by anyone claiming that the Day of the Lord has already come. You can almost hear his disbelief: “How could anyone seriously think the Day of the Lord already happened?” And yet, people believed it—because someone told them it was fulfilled spiritually, not physically.
In 2 Timothy 2, Paul calls out two specific individuals—Hymenaeus and Philetus—for teaching that the resurrection has already taken place. He says their false teaching is upsetting the faith of some and leading people to ruin. Why? Because if you tell someone they’ve already received a resurrected body—just “spiritually”—you’re undermining the real, tangible hope of the Gospel. You’re saying, "Congratulations! You’ve already arrived!" even though nothing’s actually changed.
Paul addresses similar confusion in 1 Corinthians 4, where he mocks the arrogance of some so-called leaders. He says, “You’ve already become kings, have you? You’re already reigning—without us?” And then he adds sarcastically, “I wish that were true!” The implication is clear: the kingdom has not fully come—not yet. And pretending otherwise is both foolish and dangerous.
These aren’t just fringe ideas. This false teaching—that the promises of the age to come had already arrived in full—was widespread in Gentile circles. It fit well in places like Rome, where there was growing tension between Jewish and Gentile believers. And so Paul reminds them:
“Hope that is seen is not hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has?”
If you've already received something, you're not hoping for it anymore. That’s not biblical hope. Real hope looks forward to something that hasn't yet arrived. And that kind of hope requires patience.
God’s Promise to Restore
Some people think that God's plan is to take us away from the earth and into heaven forever. But that’s not actually what the Bible teaches. God’s plan isn’t to abandon His creation—it’s to redeem it.
The book of Revelation, the last book in the Bible, paints a picture of heaven and earth becoming one. God’s Kingdom will come here, and His will shall be done on earth as it is in heaven. This is the “age to come,” and it’s full of promise.
In the Old Testament, this hope is often tied to the Day of the Lord—a future moment when God will step in, bring justice, and begin the process of restoring everything. Here’s how Peter described it:
“Whom heaven must receive until the time for restoring all the things about which God spoke by the mouth of his holy prophets long ago.” (Acts 3:21, ESV Bible)
This isn’t talking about a spiritual escape plan—it’s talking about renewal. A future time when God sets things right, resurrects the dead, brings peace to the nations, and dwells with His people again.
Distortions of the Promise
You may be familiar with names like Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle?
Their worldview—especially Plato’s—had a significant impact on the culture of the first century. And eventually, some of those ideas began influencing how people interpreted the teachings of Jesus. That’s where we get what’s sometimes called proto-Gnosticism—an early form of Gnosticism that eventually became a full-fledged movement.
Now here’s the key: Gnosticism wasn’t some rival religion. These people called themselves Christians. Only outsiders labeled them “Gnostics.” But they interpreted everything through the lens of Plato’s worldview—one that saw the material world as inherently corrupt and inferior to the spiritual realm.
So, for example, when Paul preached in Athens (Acts 17), the people were tracking with him—curious, even interested—until he got to the part about resurrection. At that point, they sneered. Why? Because the idea of bodily resurrection was offensive to their philosophical framework. To them, the body was something to escape—not something you’d ever want back.
This illustrates how deeply ingrained the idea was: that the spiritual was good, and the physical was bad. Today, some Christians might think, “Well, if I’m asking God for money or a car, I’m focused on worldly things.” But the issue is deeper than that—it’s about what your end game is. If your end goal is an immaterial spiritual existence, then the physical world becomes secondary or even irrelevant. But if the biblical end goal is a restored creation, then the physical matters deeply.
Now, here's the twist—Gnostics didn’t just over-spiritualize everything. They were also shockingly indulgent. They believed that once you were spiritually aligned with God—once you had the “knowledge” and believed the right things—then what you did in your body didn’t matter. Sin in the flesh? Irrelevant. Some even boasted about visiting temple prostitutes, believing it had no impact on their spiritual status.
You actually see this referenced in the New Testament—especially in Revelation’s early chapters, where some of these behaviors are being corrected. But this whole way of thinking—valuing the spiritual and despising the physical—has played out across Western civilization. And it’s not random. Western society was built on the rediscovery of ancient Greek philosophy during the Renaissance.
When Constantinople fell, all those ancient texts—Plato, Aristotle, and others—were brought to Europe and studied in the universities. Western thought, law, science, art, even Christianity, in some ways, got rebuilt on a Platonic foundation. And so today, we’re born into that way of thinking. We breathe it in without even realizing it.
The Gospel is Bigger than “Heaven”
But here’s something important to know as you begin your journey: the way the Gospel is often taught today—especially in the West—tends to be very narrow. It's often reduced to a simple formula: “Believe in Jesus, and you’ll go to heaven when you die.” That may be part of the story, but it’s not the whole thing.
The idea of “good news” didn’t start in the New Testament—it actually goes all the way back to the Old Testament (better called the Hebrew Bible). One powerful example is found in Isaiah 40:
“Go on up to a high mountain, O Zion, herald of good news; lift up your voice with strength, O Jerusalem, herald of good news; lift it up, fear not; say to the cities of Judah, ‘Behold your God!’ Behold, the Lord God comes with might, and his arm rules for him; behold, his reward is with him, and his recompense before him. He will tend his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms; he will carry them in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with young.” (Isaiah 40:9–11, ESV Bible)
In the ancient Greek translation of the Bible (called the Septuagint), the word for “good news” here is the same word used in the New Testament for Gospel—euangelion. This means the idea of the Gospel was always about more than just personal salvation. It was about God returning to His people, bringing justice, peace, and restoration.
If you’ve grown up in modern culture—especially in the West—you’ve probably been taught to think about your life individually. Maybe you’ve imagined your story as one long path toward personal happiness, success, or comfort.
And without realizing it, we sometimes read the Bible that way too. We treat the Gospel as a personal upgrade: God helps me live a better life. But the Bible doesn’t center its message around you—it centers it around God’s plan to restore the world. That includes you, of course—but it’s not just about you.
The Bible’s big story is about restoration. God is fixing what has gone wrong in the world. He’s not throwing the world away—He’s renewing it. And you’re invited to be part of that plan.
In Luke 4, Jesus reads from another powerful passage in Isaiah:
“The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because He has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor… to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives… to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor…” (Isaiah 61:1–2, also quoted in Luke 4)
This passage is not just about individual comfort. It’s a message of restoration to a people who had been crushed, exiled, and forgotten. It’s about God making things right again.
This is why Jesus came—not just to save us from sin, but to announce the arrival of God’s Kingdom. It’s why He healed the sick, fed the hungry, and forgave the broken. His message was: “The Kingdom of God is near.”
If the Gospel is only good news for the comfortable or successful, then it’s not the true Gospel. The real Gospel has to be good news for everyone—including the poor, the forgotten, and those who are suffering the most.
It’s good news for the slums of India. It’s good news for war-torn families in the Middle East. It’s good news for your neighbor who feels hopeless. It’s good news for you.
Where the Story Is Going
The Bible’s vision of the future isn’t vague. It’s not about floating in the clouds or becoming angels. It’s about nations coming to worship God, justice flowing like a river, and people living in peace. The prophet Isaiah said:
“It shall come to pass in the latter days that the mountain of the house of the Lord shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be lifted up above the hills; and all the nations shall flow to it, and many peoples shall come, and say: ‘Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.’ For out of Zion shall go the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. He shall judge between the nations, and shall decide disputes for many peoples; and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.” (Isaiah 2:2–4, ESV Bible)
In the end, Jesus will return, the dead will be raised, evil will be judged, and God’s Kingdom will be established here on earth. All the families of the earth—the ones He scattered at Babel, the ones He promised to bless through Abraham—will finally be brought back together under His rule.
This is the trajectory of history. This is what the Gospel fits into. And as someone who’s just beginning to follow Jesus, you’re not just receiving a personal relationship with God—you’re stepping into a story that’s been unfolding since the beginning of time.
So yes, there’s still more to learn. But for now, hold onto this:
The world is broken—but God has a plan.
Jesus is the center of that plan.
And through Him, you’ve been invited to take part in God’s future.
That’s the good news. That’s the Gospel in the context of the bigger picture.
The Gospel is not just a message about the past—it’s about the future. It tells us where history is headed. We are in the present age and we yearn and desire the age to come.
If you’ve grown up in or around church, you might have a certain picture of heaven in your mind—clouds, harps, maybe even floating around in a white robe. Maybe you thought heaven was about escaping this world and going somewhere far away to live in a peaceful, spiritual place forever.
But here’s the thing: that’s not actually the hope the Bible teaches.
God didn’t create us to live without bodies. He made us physical beings on purpose. From the very beginning, we were designed to live embodied lives in a world where God walks with us. And the Bible promises that one day, that’s exactly what will happen again.
The good news is this: God is not finished with His creation. The way the story began—with God and humanity together in a beautiful, good world—is how it will end. God with us, here, in a restored earth.
Psalm 90 talks honestly about the shortness and difficulty of life:
“You turn people back to dust, saying, ‘Return to dust, you mortals.’ A thousand years in your sight are like a day that has just gone by… The length of our days is seventy years—or eighty, if we have the strength—yet the best of them are but trouble and sorrow, for they quickly pass, and we fly away.” (Psalm 90:3-10)
But the psalmist doesn’t give up. He cries out to God:
“Return, Lord! How long will it be? Have compassion on your servants.” (Psalm 90:13)
This cry captures the heart of biblical hope. The Bible doesn’t ignore the pain of life—but it also doesn’t accept that pain, suffering, or death will have the final word.
The Bible’s promise isn’t about escaping this world. It’s about God fixing it. It’s about resurrection—not just our souls going to be with God, but our bodies being raised to new life. It’s about living with God, forever, in a renewed, restored earth.
That’s why the Bible says:
“Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and He will dwell with them... He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain...”
(Revelation 21:3–5)
This is not abstract. It’s not symbolic. This is the real future God has planned: a healed world, full of life, joy, justice, and peace—with Jesus as King.
Maybe you’ve heard someone say, “My loved one is in heaven now with the Lord.” And that’s true—in a very real and beautiful way, those who have died in Christ are with Him.
But that’s not the end of the story.
Even the people in heaven are still waiting for something. In Revelation 6, we see the souls of faithful believers crying out to God:
“How long, O Lord, until you judge...?” (Revelation 6:10)
They’re waiting for justice. For resurrection. For God to finish what He started.
The final goal isn’t leaving this earth forever. It’s coming back with Jesus to live in resurrected bodies, on a renewed earth, under the reign of the Messiah. God is not abandoning creation. He’s restoring it.
The prophets make this clear. Isaiah says:
“The Lord Almighty will reign on Mount Zion and in Jerusalem, and before its elders—with great glory.” (Isaiah 24:23)
This isn’t metaphor. God will reign from a real city—Jerusalem—over real people. This is where the story is headed.
Isaiah goes on to say:
“On this mountain the Lord Almighty will prepare a feast… He will swallow up death forever. The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears from all faces… He will remove His people’s disgrace from all the earth.” (Isaiah 25:6–8)
That’s resurrection. That’s restoration. That’s heaven on earth.
In Jesus’ time, Jewish people celebrated Passover not only to remember their rescue from Egypt, but also to look forward to a greater rescue still to come. They believed that at the end of the age, God would host a great banquet for all nations.
Jesus tapped into this expectation. He often described the kingdom of God as a feast—a celebration of redemption, justice, and joy.
So when we look at the big picture—from Deuteronomy, to Isaiah, to Revelation—we see one continuous story:
God chooses a people (Israel),
To bless all people (the nations),
From one place (Jerusalem),
Through one King (Jesus the Messiah).
And that’s where your hope lies—not in floating away into the sky forever, but in resurrection, justice, and the return of the King to restore this world.
Look at Isaiah 2:
"In the last days, the mountain of the Lord’s temple will be established… and all nations will stream to it. They will say, ‘Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord… He will teach us His ways…’ They will beat their swords into plowshares… Nation will not take up sword against nation…" (Isaiah 2:2–4)
This is the future the Bible points toward. It’s a world where nations no longer go to war. A world of peace, justice, and joy. And it’s not just a dream—it’s God’s promise.
And when we talk about the law going out from Zion, that’s not legalism. The Hebrew word here is Torah, which means instruction—God’s loving guidance for how to live.
The final chapters of the Bible echo the first. In the end, God’s plan comes full circle. Revelation says:
“Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people… He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain…” (Revelation 21:3–5)
And:
“On each side of the river stood the tree of life… And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. No longer will there be any curse…” (Revelation 22:2–3)
This is the Gospel. It’s not just about getting to heaven. It’s about heaven coming to earth. It’s about Jesus returning to finish what He started and to make everything new.
If you're a new Christian, you might feel overwhelmed by all this. But here’s the amazing part: by choosing to follow Jesus, you’re stepping into this story. You’re now part of God’s restoration plan—for your life, your family, your community, and even the world.
The Gospel isn’t small.
It’s not just about escaping.
It’s about restoring.
It’s about hope.
It’s about God dwelling with His people again.
Welcome to the story.
Reflection Questions for Personal Study
What comes to your mind when you hear the phrase “the age to come”? How has your understanding changed after reading this module?
How does the Bible’s promise of restoration differ from the common idea of “going to heaven when you die”?
What part of the restored future (new creation, resurrection, justice, peace) most resonates with you—and why?
How does knowing that God plans to renew the earth change how you live in the present?
Do you view your faith more as a personal escape or as participation in God’s global restoration? Why?
Key Scriptures for New Believers to Read and Meditate On
Ephesians 1:20–21 – Jesus reigning above all powers in this age and the age to come.
Acts 3:21 – God's promise to restore all things.
Revelation 21:3–5 – God’s dwelling with His people and the end of pain and death.
Isaiah 2:2–4 – Nations flowing to God’s instruction and the end of war.
Isaiah 25:6–8 – A great feast, the end of death, and God wiping away tears.
Isaiah 40:9–11 – The herald of good news: God coming as a shepherd.
Luke 4:18–19 / Isaiah 61:1–2 – Jesus’ mission of healing and freedom.
Revelation 22:2–3 – Healing of the nations and the removal of the curse.
Psalm 90:13–17 – A longing for God to return and establish His work.
Prayer Topics
Hope in the age to come: Ask God to help you set your heart on the promise of restoration.
Faithfulness now: Pray for strength to live with integrity and purpose while waiting for the return of Jesus.
Eyes to see the big picture: Ask the Spirit to free you from narrow or self-centered views of the Gospel.
Peace and justice: Pray for areas of the world experiencing war, poverty, or injustice—ask God to bring glimpses of His kingdom now.
Restoration in your own life: Invite God to begin His work of healing in your heart, relationships, and purpose.
Group Discussion Prompts
How does the idea of “restoration” shape your understanding of what the Gospel really is?
Why do you think modern Christianity often focuses more on heaven than on resurrection and the new creation?
What would change in your day-to-day life if you truly believed the age to come is your destiny?
How can the Church today better reflect the hope of God’s kingdom to the world?
What images or passages from this module helped you grasp the future God is bringing?