Why Christians Should Be Doomsday Preppers

Are you ready for the apocalypse? The pandemic has turned many of us into preppers—at least when it comes to toilet paper supplies. I remember last March, talking with my husband Dan about our backup plan for societal collapse. It was a simple plan: Drive home to Queensland and live with my family in their fortress of a house. We would eat the fruit of my brother’s organic garden and slaughter his grass-fed cows for meat. And if the zombie apocalypse came, well I’ve had my zombie team shortlist ready to go since 2011 (If you’re interested, it’s largely made up of my axe-throwing, longbow-wielding, raft-building, resourceful team of brothers). 

What I didn’t account for at the start of the pandemic, is that Australia is not one country, but many, divided by borders and premiers and police. 

Ah well. We would just have to come up with a doomsday plan that didn’t require cross-country road trips. 

Thankfully, my bare-minimum prepping (I put a couple of kilos of mince in the freezer) has not been tested. Our neoliberal government embraced some emergency socialism, abandoned their mantra of “back in black”, and forked out something to the tune of $311 billion to keep the zombie apocalypse at bay. 

Christian Doomsday Prepping

I’m thankful for our government having a red-hot crack at looking after us. But this doesn’t let Christians off the hook when it comes to doomsday prepping.

I’m not talking about hoarding guns, fuel, cans and water and building a fallout shelter. (Although the NSW gov suggests that perhaps we could all afford to do a little prepping.)

Christians are told not to be anxious about anything or worry about what we’ll eat or drink, but instead to present our needs to God in prayer (Matt 6:25, Phil 4:6). I don’t think there’s anything wrong with planning for the future, but when I say that Christians should be doomsday preppers, it’s a different kind of doomsday I have in mind.

You Say the World is Ending, Honey it Already Did

Comedian Bo Burnham released a Netflix special this year which has been stuck in my head since I watched it. Burham swears frequently, is offensive, satirical and dark. But he’s also insightful, introspective and has a unique talent for giving voice to the angst of our technologically mediated, atomised, utterly broken society.  Burham filmed his latest special, Inside entirely by himself, alone in a room over the last year. It gets pretty bleak. Bo talks about how his mental health is at an all-time low, and Inside is a product of that. In the cathartic climax to the special, Bo sings the following lyrics: 

You say the ocean’s rising like I give a s***
You say the whole world’s ending, honey, it already did
You’re not gonna slow it, Heaven knows you tried
Got it? Good, now get inside

These lyrics have been circling my mind for weeks. There’s so much in there—personal crises merging into global crises, climate anxiety, hopelessness and a feeling of being beaten into submission. 

The truth is, the world will end. I do not know the day or hour. But quite likely, before the world ends for everyone, it will end for me. Every day, worlds end. In death, or abandonment, or tragedy, or a crisis of faith. 

As Christians, we are told that hard times will come. “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.” (James 1:2-3) Notice the wording there—when troubles come, not if.

There’s a verse that I remember in the NKJV of my childhood that has always struck me as encouraging doomsday prepping: 

“See then that you walk circumspectly, not as fools but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be unwise, but understand what the will of the Lord is” (Eph 5: 15-17).

We are told to expect hard times and ‘evil days’, and to meet them with wisdom and joy. 

It will continue to be increasingly difficult to be a Christian. As friends fall away, abuse is exposed, apathy sets in, cultural pressure is applied and sin beckons, living as a disciple of Christ is more and more an active choice. 

How are you preparing for the trials of the Christian life? 

A thought experiment: If you found yourself trapped in an underground bunker, fighting for the survival of yourself and your community, how would you fare? Would you be the one working through exhaustion and fear to protect your community? Would you be a peacemaker and a voice of encouragement? Or would you be a complainer and a shirker, giving in to despair? Would you be a source of maturity and spiritual strength, pointing your bunker-buddies to ultimate hope and truth? Would you be the wise mentor to give up your life in a sacrificial act of courage at the end of the first act

Enough with the tropes and thought experiments. Most of us won’t be living out our days in a bunker, hunkering down against the oncoming zombie hoards. But I think in some senses, our stakes are no less real. This faith is life and death. The safety of our institutions, the character of our leaders, the health of our communities—these things have eternal impacts. And the same fruit of the spirit that could preserve your community through a genuine apocalypse is what nourishes and sustains us through the normal Christian life. 

You cannot draw on reserves of character, maturity and spiritual depth that you do not have.  

“A man reaps what he sows. Whoever sows to please their flesh, from the flesh will reap destruction; whoever sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life” (Galatians 6:7-8). 

How to Prepare for Trials and Tribulations

So how do we prepare for the difficulties of the Christian life? I believe that one of the most powerful ways is through Christian community.

Partly because it’s exposure therapy. Community is difficult. Community exposes the character flaws you didn’t know you had. 

But also because I believe Christian community can be an antidote to much of what makes faith difficult in our time. Close, embedded, costly Christian community can be a space where we build one another up in faith, where hard truths are spoken in a context of love and commitment, where alternative cultures and plausibility structures are created, and where discipleship is built into rhythms of daily life. 

I’ve been lucky to have experienced this kind of Christian community, and it changed my life. It wasn’t perfect. But it was good. 

I’ll leave you with a quote from Kurt Vonnegut:

“What should young people do with their lives today? Many things, obviously. But the most daring thing is to create stable communities in which the terrible disease of loneliness can be cured.” (from Palm Sunday, 1981)

Anyway, if anyone wants to help me start a neo-monastic missional community in the Blue Mountains or has a spare few million $ to buy a large property… hit me up?

Ellanda Joyce studied politics, English and sociology at uni, and wrote an honours thesis on Christian responses to cultural shifts in Australia. Now she reads and writes about spirituality, politics and faith, as well as reading a good dose of fiction. Ellanda is the assistant manager at The Wandering Bookseller, which involves lots of logistics planning, marketing and listening to Karl deliver unsolicited lectures on church history and comparative theology.

2 comments On Why Christians Should Be Doomsday Preppers

  • Hi Elland
    I am Karl’s Aunt, his mother’s younger sister. Thank you for your writings. I am reminded that we are called to “spur one another on” and also “have an answer for the hope we have”……..which means relationships, therefore community, is key.
    All the best for your future propping!
    Ngaire Callaghan

  • Dear Nook Dweller,
    Great thoughts!
    Do you think perhaps the perceived need to prepare for doom might be the response of a society mentally displaced from time and space? What we consider unbearable during the current crisis may well be considered unimaginable luxury in another country, or another time. To have the mind of Christ must include a cosmic perspective of reality. How true: “You cannot draw on reserves of character, maturity and spiritual depth that you do not have.” I suggest you begin your new, neo-monastic missional community in a cave (not a mansion). Happy to cover the cost of candles .
    Dad

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