Thursday, September 27, 2012


Though I champion and live by the letters of the apostle Paul, there is one other Bible book that interests me nearly as much, and that is the book of Revelation.

It was not always this way. Anyone first reading the last book of the canon (God help the individual attempting it in one sitting), usually reaches for an adult beverage afterward. It was the same with me (except I ate peanut M&Ms). All that changed, however, when I read The Unveiling of Jesus Christ, by A.E. Knoch.

In 1930, A. E. Knoch wrote the definitive work on the book of Revelation. I believe Knoch to be the first writer holding mature truth to tackle this difficult book. What do I consider mature truth? That would be a knowledge of, 1) the eons, 2) the sovereignty of God, 3) the goal of the universe, and 4) the distinct evangel of Paul.

Most Revelation commentators founder on all four counts. Being ignorant of the eons, they imagine the judgments described here to be everlasting. Unaware of God’s sovereignty, they miss divine purpose. Because they imagine the goal of the universe to be eternal torment (how delightful), they must make the lake of fire “all she wrote” for the majority of humanity (how fun). And no one getting Revelation explained by an author ignorant of Paul ever finds comfort—or enough alcohol. Escape out of the coming indignation? Not quite. (Paul begs to differ: 1 Thessalonians 1:10). Rather, take a dose of a certain fearful looking for ill-tempered locusts and ninety-pound hailstones.  

The ultra-intelligent A.E. Knoch is still childlike enough to believe God means what He says. Allowing for figures of speech (the author’s grasp of these is exceptional), A.E. Knoch audaciously takes God at His Word. Is taking God at his word a scary proposition in the book of Revelation? You bet! But only if you, too, miss the four planks of full-grown truth.

Why don’t many people know about The Unveiling of Jesus Christ? That’s what I’d like to know. There are more revelations in one paragraph of Knoch than in entire volumes of seminary-trained drones. Rather than griping about it, I’m going to do something about it.

God willing, I will launch a video series on the book of Revelation, next month. I will base the series—set to broadcast five days a week—upon Mr. Knoch’s seminal work. No sense re-inventing the wheel; A.E.K. has already written a masterpiece. My contribution will be to “Zenderize” his words and concepts, making them digestible even by seminary-trained drones. Heck, I may even make some of his concepts funny.

Please pray for me, as I cannot do this work alone. It’s too damn hard; I’m not smart enough; I’m not disciplined enough; I’m not good enough; I become too easily discouraged by the uphill task and the downhill world. I could give you 122,465 more reasons why I need help and prayer, but these will suffice. Are you praying yet? Why not? Please pray now.

Really. Exactly. Truly.

Here is a promotional video, fresh out of the production department:

Friends, we are the first and only generation since John scribbled his head off on Patmos to witness the beginning of events God showed him, “in spirit.” These are the end times. Yes, I know every generation has said that.

But we are the first generation to be right.

© 2012 by Martin Zender


Sometimes, the best way to teach what is right is to put what is wrong on full display. I will do this in October, after returning from New York.

Many people believe that God is a well-intended old man who had such high hopes for his creation—up until Satan ruined his plans in the Garden of Eden. (I call this eternally disappointed personage, “the Christian God.”) Since then, the Christian God has scrambled night and day to salvage something, anything, of his universe. He sent his own son, Jesus Christ, to save as many as he could from a fate worse than death: burning in hell forever. 

Burning in hell forever is the worst thing imaginable. In fact, it is so bad, so evil, and so nightmarish (and so freakishly hot), that no one can possibly imagine it. Not even the Christian God can truly wrap his poor demented mind around it. He is sorry about it, really. But this is just what happens to people who don’t love him. All people have to do is love him. Is that so hard? The Christian God spends many long hours stroking his long, white beard in quiet contemplation, wondering why so many people can’t manage so simple a thing as loving him. Isn’t he the most loveable being in the universe? Of course. So why doesn’t his favorite saying, “Love me, or else!” attract more devotees?

The problem, of course (well, one of the problems), is that the Christian God gave every human being a free will. So while he may wish to influence these humans and bring as many as possible into his heavenly, air-conditioned home, he can’t. Once he gave away his sovereignty, he couldn’t get it back. Now, the best he can do is hope everything somehow works out. (He knows in his own heart—the one with the aorta and all the ventricles—that this is probably not going to happen. But it doesn’t mean he can’t wish for it.)

I have already shown you the Christian God in several of my Crack O’ Dawn Report videos. In case you have forgotten, here he comes now:

Some people get nervous about me portraying God. They think it’s sacrilege. But I’m not portraying God, I’m portraying a caricature of God—the weak, bumbling, co-dependent “deity” of the Christian religion. I can teach the truth about the true God straightforwardly, and often do. But sometimes the better thing is to let the error act and speak—give it its say—and let people see and hear for themselves how wrong it is. (This is the “show rather than tell” principle.)

I can stand under a tree, in a video, and—with accompanying violin music—talk about how great and wonderful the true God is. (Can you hear clicking sounds? That’s the sound of thousands of twenty year-old YouTube watchers rolling their eyes and moving to another channel.) Or, I can arrange for the Christian God to have his own comedy show, and put him on a stage before a live audience, to explain his sorry self.

I asked the Christian God about this possibility, and he jumped all over it. In fact, he was so excited he smoked seven filtered cigarettes. (Seven is the number of perfection.)

I have booked him into the famous Laura Ingalls Wilder Comedy Club in De Smet, South Dakota, for a series of engagements. The thing about this is, the Christian God is not intending to do a comedy set. He thinks he’s finally getting the opportunity to explain himself on YouTube in front of a friendly audience. See, I kind of didn’t tell him it was a comedy club. I kind of told him he’d be “giving a talk” at De Smet Community College. You may think it is mean to deceive the Christian God in this manner, and maybe it is. I am doing this for the greater good. When people start rolling in hysterics at the Christian God’s most earnest elucidations of how the universe got so whacked (“Shut up! What's so funny? You try creating tall grass, and then see if you can keep track of all the snakes!”), maybe he will get a clue.  

Here he is, last week, testing the sound system:


The Pop-Icon Jesus is also booked into the Laura Ingalls Wilder Comedy Club, but on different nights. The Pop-Icon Jesus, however, knows it’s a comedy club. I told him, and he embraced my concept. He, too, wants to tell his story. He knows how funny utter futility can be, and is ready to let 'er rip. (Here he is at the dress rehearsal.)

The Pop-Icon Jesus is not the true Jesus. He is the handsome, popular Jesus whose glittering jewelry adorns the necks of rock stars and Super Bowl heroes. The events of the past two millennia have very much disturbed him. In the old days—as recently as the 1960’s—the Beatles were more popular than he. But now, he has all the frenzied teenagers eating out of his hand. It disconcerts him. He never wanted to be a cult-leader, he says. He suspects that his father—the Christian God—has something to do with the downhill roll of things since Calvary, and is quite happy to incriminate him. (“He has a bee in his bonnet, that one. Or a crawfish in his crotch—something. Everyone is afraid of him. It’s great for the money plate, but I used to fling that stuff across the sanctuary in the good old days.”)

The Pop-Icon Jesus looks back at those ancient days—at how un-popular he was then—and instinctively recognizes them as days of truth. The mainstream religion (as well as the mainstream media) snubbed him, yes, but that’s because his message was spiritual, rather than emotional. His no-frill message rarely appealed to the carnal nature. There were no titillating songs back then repeating his name 95 times so that people swayed and swooned and wanted to make love to him. There was no stained glass back then, no large cathedrals, and no marble statuary honoring his dear mother. Back then, his mother baked fig bars whenever he brought “the boys” over for a visit. She had no halo then, and the paparazzi shunned her. (I am not disparaging Mary; her fig bars were moist and delicious.)

Treading the road less traveled is so timelessly true. The real Jesus knows it, as do we who seek Him. “Wide is the way that leads to destruction,” He said in the day. In this day, the popular path finds happy receipt in every pulpit. The Pop-Icon Jesus hates that, and now he'll have his say.  

Tickets are still available for both shows. Call today. Operators will be wearing riot gear. 

© 2012 by Martin Zender