The Parables of Destruction
Watch this blog on this week’s episode of The PRODCAST.
AN OLIVET RECAP
If you've been with us throughout this entire series, then congratulations. You have just received the kind of eschatological training that should be mandatory for every pastor, seminary professor, and Christian who refuses to be duped by end-times grift. You now have the tools to see what Jesus was actually saying in the text, to dismantle the lies of dispensationalism, to shatter eschatological defeatism, and to walk in the victorious confidence that Christ is reigning now, His Kingdom is advancing, and His enemies are being crushed beneath His feet (Psalm 110:1, 1 Corinthians 15:25).
But before we move forward in this series, we need to take a step back. We need to see the whole battlefield before we land the kill shot. This means that if we are going to properly understand Matthew 24, we need to know where it fits within Matthew's Gospel as a whole, how it functions within the final days of Jesus' earthly ministry, and how it is indisputably fulfilled in the events leading up to AD 70.
Now… As we have seen for weeks, Matthew's Gospel is not a random collection of Jesus' stories. It is a theological masterpiece—a structured, intentional, and eschatologically loaded account that demonstrates how Jesus is the true Israel, the true Son of God, the true King, and the true Prophet, the true priest, the true King, the true sacrifice, and the one who will bring judgment on the old covenant world and establish His unshakable Kingdom forever.
Matthew builds his case from the very first chapter. For instance, in Matthew 1:1, we see how Jesus is the true King, the greater David, who will rule the nations. We see how He is the true Moses, delivered from the homicidal King who tried to kill him as an infant (Matthew 2:15), how, like Moses, He passed through the waters in Matthew 3, succeeded in the wilderness in Matthew 4, and stood upon a new mountain and taught God's people the new covenant law in Matthew chapter 5. We saw how He is the new Temple in Matthew 12:6 and is replacing the old covenant world with His new covenant blessings in Matthew 21-23.
Everything in Matthew's Gospel points to a transition that is happening—the end of one world (the old world of types and shadows) and the dawning of a new world, a new Kingdom built on better promises (Hebrews 8:6), governed by a better covenant (Hebrews 8:13) and ruled by a better King (Revelation 19:16).
And, one of the ways Jesus will accomplish this is by making war with the old covenant world. If He is going to usher in a new covenant world, a new temple, a better sacrifice, a new Jerusalem, a new priesthood, then He will have to resoundingly draw the old order to a complete and total end. And nowhere is that more apparent than in Matthew 21-23. It is, of course, apparent all throughout the Gospel, but Matthew 21-23 really drives this point home. And it is to that context we now turn.
MATTHEW 21-24: THE FINAL SHOWDOWN IN JERUSALEM
When we get to Matthew 21, things have changed. The streets of Jerusalem were choked with pilgrims, thousands upon thousands pressing in for the Passover feast and thinking this year was just like any other year. The air was thick with tension. Rome's presence was suffocating—armed soldiers lurking on rooftops, standing guard at strategic points throughout the city. The Pharisees and Sadducees, those self-righteous wolves, prowled around the city in their long flowing robes with fancy tassels and phylacteries, whispering conspiracies, eyes darting in every direction, ready in a moment to destroy the Lord of glory.
And then, just at that moment, Jesus came riding into the city on a donkey. He came like Solomon of old, a King who was coming to take dominion of His Kingdom. The people at that point erupted—singing Hosanna! Hosanna to the Son of David! They threw their cloaks in the street. They tore branches from trees, waving them like victory banners. Their voices thundered through the Kidron Valley, shaking the very foundations of the city.
In their minds, a Messiah had arrived. One who would throw off the shackles of Rome and lead them to national autonomy and dominion. But very soon, they must have noticed that there were no trumpets. No armies. No drawn swords. Just a carpenter, a rabbi, a prophet riding humbly into a city who notoriously murdered the prophets.
The Sanhedrin felt the power dynamic shifting. They felt the crowds abandoning them and turning to Jesus. The priests and scribes—they knew and sensed it, too. This was not just any old man on a donkey. This was an invasion, and if they did not squash it, they knew that Rome would come in and take away what little national sovereignty they had left (John 11:48).
And during this spectacle, Jesus made it abundantly clear where this war was headed. He didn't go to Herod's palace. He didn't march to the Antonia Fortress to challenge Caesar. He did not assemble a brigade of revolutionaries to reclaim the city. No. He went straight to the Temple and demonstrated to everyone who the real enemies were.
You see, according to every thoroughgoing Jew, the enemy was Rome. The enemies were the Gentile vermin who were holding them captive, taxing the life out of them, and polluting their sacred space. Yet, when God Himself came in the flesh, He did not condemn the Romans or the Gentiles. He ate with them (Luke 7:36, Luke 19:5-7). He healed their sick children (Matthew 8:5-13, Mark 7:24-30). And saved entire cities like those in Samaria (John 4:39-42). It was crystal clear what God was communicating. The enemies of God were not the pagans; it was the Jews! The Jewish leadership who was breaking the covenant with God. The Jewish aristocracy who led the city and its Temple to become a fruitless institution. And, from the moment He stepped inside the Temple, chaos erupted. Tables—overturned. Coins—scattered. Greedy merchants—driven out with a hand-braided whip. The stinging of leather against flesh. The cries of protest. The thundering of Jesus' voice (Matthew 21:12-13, Mark 11:15-17, John 2:13-16).
"It is written: 'My house shall be called a house of prayer,' but you have made it a den of robbers!"
The leaders were furious, their faces burning with rage. But the people—they cheered. The blind and the lame—they rushed to Him. He healed them right then and there in front of the priests, which was a direct slap to their authority.
And, naturally, as you might assume, that entire night, Jerusalem buzzed with speculation. Who was this man? Would the priests arrest Him? Was He really the Messiah, or had they made a mistake?
The next morning, they would get more clarity on that question. For in the morning, Jesus returned with a bang!
On the way back into the city, the disciples saw Him stop before a lone fig tree. The branches were thick with leaves—lush and promising. But as He stepped closer, He found no fruit on it. Just like the city of Jerusalem and its Temple the night before.
And with the same rage that led Him to righteously chase the rebels out of the courts of the Gentiles, now He turned to the rebellious plant and said:
"May no one ever eat fruit from you again."
And at that very moment, the tree withered before their eyes. The disciples were stunned. They had no idea at the time that Jesus was talking about more than the tree. They did not understand that He was talking about Jerusalem. A city full of outward splendor. A town that promised to bear fruit for God. But when God came looking, it had nothing to give Him but songs and leaves. Jerusalem, a city that was as withered as that fig tree, would likewise be cut down and thrown into the fire in a mere forty years. The disciples would not understand until later. But the sign had been given.
Back inside the Temple, the air was thick with hostility. The chief priests, the scribes, the elders—they were waiting for Him. A trap had been set. They said:
"By what authority are You doing these things?" [They sneered]. "Who gave You this authority?" [They protested]
The crowd fell silent. The tension was so sharp you could feel it pressing into your skin. Jesus, calm as ever, turned the trap back on them, saying:
"I will ask you one question, and if you tell Me the answer, I will tell you by what authority I do these things. John's baptism—was it from heaven, or from men?"
The Pharisees, Scribes, and Sadducees stood frozen. No one had ever challenged them like this. If they said "from heaven", they would condemn themselves for rejecting John. If they said "from men," the people would turn on them because they knew John was a prophet.
So in their wicked cloister, they whispered, they argued, and they stalled for time. And then, in cowardice, they said: "We don't know."
I think it could have been that Jesus smiled at this point, but nonetheless, He told them: "Then neither will I tell you by what authority I do these things."
The crowd must have roared with laughter. The Pharisees! That smug group of self-righteous know-it-alls, who looked down their noses at the people and weaponized the Mosaic covenant to wound the common man, now stood humiliated. But Jesus was not done.
With the gathered crowds hanging on His every word, Jesus unleashed three scathing parables that tell us precisely what He meant. The first parable was about two sons. One said that he would obey the Father but didn't. The other said he would not obey the Father but ended up obeying Him. Jesus told the Pharisees that they were the children who promised obedience but spat in the face of God. AND… That the prostitutes and tax collectors, who made a living out of sinning, would be the ones who enter into the Kingdom before them. That is the first parable.
The second was even more scathing. Because when comparing the Jewish leaders to wicked men who killed the Vineyard owner's son, Jesus told them that the Kingdom would be taken away from them and given to a people who would bear fruit for God. Do you see it? The city offered him no fruit. The Temple offered Him no fruit. The fig tree offered Him no fruit. And now, He is telling them that they will be destroyed for their fruitlessness, and the Kingdom would be given to a different people who would bear fruit for God. This is a covenant indictment. But, the last parable is the most scathing.
In that parable, Jesus compares them to people who refuse a wedding feast. But, it was not just any feast; it was a wedding feast for the marriage of the Crown prince of heaven. Jesus told them that the King (who is God) invited them to celebrate the marriage of His Son (which is Jesus). But they refused to come. Even more than that, they were the ones who killed the heralds who brought them the invitation. And so, the King sent His armies and set the city on fire until there was no one left among them, which is Jesus' way of saying: You are the ones who killed God's prophets; you are the ones who refused to come into the marriage of Christ and His Church; and now as a result of your stubborn refusal, God was going to send His armies (The Romans) to set their city on fire.
And, while many today fail to see the connection Jesus is making, the Jewish leaders did not miss the point. They responded furiously, admitting that they knew Jesus was talking about them (Matthew 21:45). They were not dimwitted dispensational types who accuse everyone else of spiritualizing the text. They got it loud and clear that Jesus believed they were in the covenantal crosshairs.
And, if that were all we had to prove it, that would be enough. But Jesus goes on to pronounce seven covenant woes on them in Matthew 23. He curses the city and announces that its Temple will be left desolate (Matthew 23:38). And then privately to His disciples, on the Mount of Olives, He lays out the timeline for when all these things will happen, saying that false messiahs will come (Matthew 24:5), earthquakes and famines (Matthew 24:7), wars and rumors of wars (Matthew 24:6), lawlessness (Matthew 24:12), tribulations (Matthew 24:9), great tribulations (Matthew 24:21), and abominations of desolations (Matthew 24:15)—all would plague the Jews for forty years before their covenant end would come (Matthew 24:34).
And while we have explored each of these aspects in great detail, showing how all of them prove a first-century judgment upon the Jews, what we have not done yet is explore the genre of parable and how Jesus uses it to show that Jerusalem stands condemned. And just as an aside, I find it incredible that Jesus in Matthew 24 has used three different genres to get across His point. He began with the genre of dialogical conversational language in Matthew 24:3-26. In verses 27-31 He switches to the Old Testament apocalyptic style, which we have also seen has a first-century fulfillment. And now, in our passage today, He is switching to the genre of parables, telling simple stories and lived-out messages to tighten the noose around the city's neck.
This brings us to our passage today, which we will read and then we will discuss. That passage is Matthew 24:32-33. This is what it says:
"Now learn the parable from the fig tree: when its branch has already become tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near; so, you too, when you see all these things, recognize that He is near, right at the door. - Matthew 24:32-33
PART 1: PARABLES AND DUAL PURPOSE COMINGS
When it comes to the comings of Christ, the parables shed much light on why the Son of God came. Contrary to the prevailing evangelical notion, Jesus came for more than simply saving sinners. He came to a specific people, at a particular time, in a specific context, and for a specific and dual-functioning purpose. That purpose was to bring judgment upon His enemies and salvation to His people, which can be demonstrated throughout the parables of Christ.
For instance, when Christ comes, He will identify two groups of people in His incarnation. One that will be prepared for judgment. And the other who will be prepared for His blessings. These two themes show up in the vast majority of parables and give us insight into Jesus' conception of His incarnation and the genre of parables as well.
For instance, in one parable, the righteous man builds his house upon the rock, while the wicked builds in hubris upon the sand (Luke 6:46-49). In that story, the righteous man survives the near-term calamity and experiences ongoing blessings, while the wicked man undergoes sudden destruction when the storm appears.
Truth from parables like these can be applied in spiritual and universal ways since all who build their life on Jesus Christ will be ultimately and eternally spared, whereas building on anything else will warrant eternal calamities forever. But, as I said before, spiritualized interpretations often miss the poignant reality this would have conveyed to the original audience. Jesus warned that a first-century storm was coming and that only those who were with Him would survive it, which gained terrifying clarity in the events of AD 70.
This kind of dualism between the imminent doom of the wicked and the near blessing of the righteous is too overt to ignore. For instance, the sheep will be brought into blessing, whereas the goats will be set apart for destruction (Matthew 25:31-36). The wheat is to be stored in Christ's heavenly barns while the tares will be thrown into the flames (Matthew 13:24-30). The branches that bear fruit will be pruned for greater yield, while all those who are fruitless will be burned for their worthlessness (John 15:1-11). The King will bring new guests into the joy of His wedding while sending his armies to destroy the ones who were found unworthy (Matthew 22:1-14). On and on we may go. The parables tell us something about how Jesus viewed His first-century world. Some would enter into blessings, and others would be consumed by deep-abiding curses.
Now, before applying this to Matthew 24, we need to understand another aspect of what a parable is and what time frame it is communicating. Which leads us to…
PART 2: CLARIFYING PARABOLIC TIME
Now, while you may be thinking that I am stretching the genre of parable to fit my preterist agenda, I would point out that a lot of these parables add a clarifying element of time, which lets us know more will be going on in the first century than a hyper-spiritual application can account for. For instance, in the all-too-common spiritualized application of the parables, we act like these stories were written for us. They are included in the New Testament canon for my benefit, my edification, and my little quiet time before driving off to work. We functionally pretend that Jesus was ignoring the real original people who heard these poignant tales and that they primarily concern the things going on in my life, my world, and my circumstances.
And while this is true, that all people and at all times can glean meaning from these classic tales. Jesus' parables also clearly address events that He believes apply to His contemporaries and events that would happen in their world and their lifetime.
For instance, Christ, the Master, portrays Himself as a nobleman who departs on a long journey, entrusting His servants with responsibilities in His absence. When He returns, He will reward the faithful and wise servant—the one who remained diligent, obedient, and steadfast in His duties—by granting him even greater responsibility and favor (Luke 12:35-44). But to the one who was lazy, wicked, and rebellious—the servant who took his Master's delay as an opportunity for lawlessness, who abused his fellow servants, indulged himself in drunkenness and neglected his charge—the Master will return in judgment. He will cut him in pieces, assign him a place with the unbelievers, and bring upon him the full measure of divine wrath (Luke 12:45-48).
This is not an abstract parable about some distant event at the end of time. This was a prophecy fulfilled in AD 70 when Christ returned in judgment upon Jerusalem. The wicked and unfaithful servants—the Jewish leaders who rejected their Messiah, who persecuted His followers, and who defiled their stewardship of God's covenant—were destroyed as Rome became the rod of God's fury, razing the city, slaughtering the faithless, and leaving the once-glorious Temple a heap of ruins, just as Christ had foretold. Meanwhile, the faithful servants, those who heeded His warning and remained steadfast in their allegiance to Him, escaped the destruction and were preserved, marking the transition from the old covenant order to the fullness of Christ's Kingdom.
The temptation today is to read a multiple thousand-year gap into texts like these, supposing that its contents apply to us or some future generation. Beyond breaking the most basic rules of Biblical hermeneutics, this is not how the story world of a parable works. In the parable, a human master goes on a human journey that seems especially long to his human servants. When he returned, those same servants were still alive, which would not have been possible if He had delayed his return for 2000 years.
Had the Master in the story left on a multi-millennia expedition, both he and his slaves would have been dead before they even reached a century of parted company. This is because the parable operates based on real-world rules. A human going on a very long journey could be gone 10, 20, or even 40 years. But if he were gone 2000 years the logic of the story would break down. This is also why Jesus does not tell any parables of teleportation or men flying because that is not how a parable works. It is a story grounded in the rules of the world the audience lives in, with a meaning that is especially pertinent to the people hearing it.
In this way, it seems like Jesus was preparing His disciples for a long period of time between His physical incarnation and His return to set up the Kingdom in full. When He returned, again after a long time away, He would reward those who were faithful and cut in pieces those who rejected Him. All of this makes good sense in the forty-year gap that existed between His ascension and judgment coming on Jerusalem in AD 70. While we have not ordinarily read the real-world context into these parables, doing so, at a minimum, enriches our understanding of what Jesus was speaking about and also sheds light on what parables are actually for, which is what we will talk about now.
PART 3: CLARIFYING PARABOLIC PURPOSE
Parables, at first glance, seem like playful, engaging little stories. They capture the imagination, stir curiosity, and invite contemplation. But in Scripture, parables are never just benign illustrations. They always arrive on the cusp of imminent judgment. Their presence signals that the patience of God has nearly run its course. They appear when the covenant people have stiffened their necks, ignored the prophetic warnings, and made themselves ripe for destruction. At such times, God, in His mercy, speaks to them in the simplest possible terms, like a father reducing complex truths to a child. And yet, with such clarity comes greater accountability. When divine truth has been reduced to elementary terms and is still rejected, the rebellion is no longer one of ignorance but of outright defiance. And for that, judgment is certain.
The biblical pattern is unmistakable. Whenever parabolic language emerges, judgment looms on the horizon. This is not coincidental. It is covenantal. In Isaiah 6:9-10, God commands the Prophet:
"Go, and tell this people: 'Keep on listening, but do not perceive; Keep on looking, but do not understand.' Render the hearts of this people insensitive, Their ears dull, And their eyes dim, Otherwise they might see with their eyes, Hear with their ears, Understand with their hearts, And return and be healed."
God was not merely predicting their rejection of His Word; He was ensuring it. Isaiah's message was to function as an instrument of judicial hardening. The people had spurned God's clear commands for so long that now, their ability to understand had been revoked. God was not sending Isaiah to bring repentance but to confirm their judgment.
Fast forward to Jesus' ministry, and we see the same pattern at work. In Matthew 13, when the disciples ask why He speaks in parables, Jesus does not say, "To make things easier to understand." Instead, He answers:
"To you it has been granted to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been granted... Therefore I speak to them in parables; because while seeing they do not see, and while hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand." (Matthew 13:11,13)
Just as in Isaiah's day, the parables of Jesus were not merely pedagogical tools; they were judicial decrees. They clarified the truth for the elect while simultaneously confounding the reprobate. They were not just invitations to understanding but acts of divine retribution, ensuring that those who had rejected the clear teaching of the Law and Prophets would now be blinded to the truth entirely.
Understanding this, we must see Jesus' parables in their covenantal and eschatological context. He was not offering timeless moral lessons disconnected from historical reality. He was issuing verdicts. He was sealing the fate of a generation that had defiled the covenant, murdered the prophets, and was now preparing to crucify the Son of God Himself.
Consider the parable of the sower (Matthew 13:3-9). It is often treated as a general lesson on different responses to the Gospel, but in its immediate context, it serves a more pressing purpose. The hardened path represents the religious elite, who had already rejected Christ and would soon call for His crucifixion. The rocky soil reflects those swept away by the upheavals of the coming tribulation. The thorny soil represents those distracted by the cares of the world, particularlythose entangled with the doomed system of first-century Judaism. And the good soil? That was the remnant, the elect, the foundation of Christ's Kingdom that would endure the coming judgment and bear fruit.
Likewise, the parable of the wheat and the tares (Matthew 13:24-30) is more than an eschatological allegory. It is a direct warning to the Jews of Jesus' day. The wheat—the faithful remnant—would be gathered into Christ's barn, while the tares—the false sons of the Kingdom—would be burned in the coming inferno of AD 70.
The parable of the dragnet (Matthew 13:47-50) functions in the same way. The net of the Gospel would pull in all kinds, but when the moment of reckoning arrived, the wicked would be cast out. Jesus was not talking about a distant event at the end of history. He was speaking to His contemporaries about the great division that was imminent.
This is why parables are not just innocent stories. They are divine tests of accountability. When God reduces His message to the simplest of forms—when He speaks in the most elementary terms, using basic stories that even a child could understand—He removes every possible excuse. If a person rebels against such clarity, their condemnation is fully deserved.
In John 9:39-41, Jesus tells the Pharisees:
"For judgment I came into this world, so that those who do not see may see, and that those who see may become blind... If you were blind, you would have no sin; but since you say, 'We see,' your sin remains."
The more light that is given, the greater the accountability. This is why the Jews of Jesus' day would be judged more severely than Sodom and Gomorrah (Matthew 10:15). The Sodomites had rebelled against general revelation. The Jews had rejected God in the flesh.
The fact that Jesus spoke in parables was itself a sign of impending doom. It meant that Judah had reached the point of no return. Their ears were deafened. Their eyes were darkened. Their hearts were hardened. And their destruction was certain.
PART 4: LIVED OUT PARABLES OF JUDGMENTS
The prophets didn't just speak God's messages—they lived them. Their lives weren't separate from their sermons. They were the sermon. Every word of judgment they preached was backed up by something real, something visible, something shocking. They didn't just warn people about coming disaster; they became walking warnings. Their pain, their shame, and their bizarre and often humiliating actions were all part of the message.
For instance, Isaiah was a man of dignity, a prophet of eloquence, a statesman before kings, but when God called him to act out the impending doom of Israel, his dignity was stripped away like the garments from his back. For three long years, Isaiah walked the streets of Judah barefoot and naked, which at the time was a public scandal, a sign of shame and humiliation. But this was not a fugue state or an eccentric stunt. It was a prophecy in motion, a declaration that as he went, so would they. Assyria was coming. The Babylonians would not be far behind. And when those armies arrived, Israel would be led away just like Isaiah—stripped, humiliated, and marched into exile as slaves. The people whispered. They snickered. They scoffed. They jeered. They turned their faces away from the sight of their once-respected Prophet, now a nude disgrace wandering their streets. But their mockery would be turned into shame. His dramatic action was a lived-out parable foreshadowing their coming doom.
If Isaiah's prophetic dramatization made the people uncomfortable, Ezekiel's would have driven them to outright despair. He was not just a prophet—he was a living, breathing apocalyptic vision, a one-man catastrophe unfolding before their eyes. For instance, God called him to build a miniature replica of the city of Jerusalem, a tiny model city that he would then lay siege to, attacking it as if he were the Babylonians themselves. He set up ramps, cast up battering rams, and enacted the destruction of his own people before it happened. They watched him, fascinated and horrified, hoping that he had lost his marbles, but also kind of nervous that God might be angry at them!
Then, after destroying the model city, he laid on his left side for three hundred and ninety days, cooking bread with dried-out pieces of poop like bricks of coal (yes, I am serious) as a symbol that he was bearing the iniquity and the defilement of Israel. Then, he turned over onto his right side for another forty days, symbolically bearing the sin of Judah. Ezekiel became a human object lesson, a lived-out parable, a dramatic foretaste of the coming suffering and divine wrath soon to be unleashed on them.
When he finally got up from this position and began moving about again, the first thing he did was shave his head and beard, dividing the hair into thirds—one-third he burned in the fire, one-third he hacked to pieces with a sword, and one third he scattered to the wind. And then, as if to leave no room for confusion on what this strange act meant, he took a few strands of his wiry hair and tucked them into his robe, signifying that a third of the people would be burned alive in the destruction of the city, a third would be hacked to death by Babylonian swords, a third would be scattered to the nations, and only a very small remnant would be spared. The people did not have to ask what it meant. They got the point.
Or what about Hosea's heartbreaking mission. His calling was not to build a siege model or lay on the ground for a year. His entire life was to be a parable, a prophecy of betrayal and grief. God commanded him to marry a prostitute, a woman who would embody Israel's unfaithfulness, and he was commanded to love her and be kind to her like God had loved and cherished the prostitute Judah. Hosea took her as his wife, knowing that she would cheat on him, knowing that she would sell herself to others, knowing that she would break his heart. And when she finally abandoned him and fell into slavery, God's command was even more shocking: God told Hosea to go. Find her. Buy her back. Love her again even though she did not deserve it. God did not command this because He had a flare for the dramatic. God used Hosea's life, played out before the people, a love story twisted with pain, to communicate a parabolic truth that God Himself had been faithful to them while they played the whore with every foreign God.
We could say the same for Jeremiah and also the same for Jesus. Both of them acted out real-life parables. Both of them not only told parabolic stories but also acted out parabolic judgment. For instance, Jeremiah's entire life was a slow, agonizing prophecy—a man weeping over a doomed city, smashing a clay jar to symbolize its destruction, and wearing a yoke around his neck to foretell its coming bondage. When a false prophet broke the yoke, Jeremiah returned with a heavier one of iron, warning that their captivity would be unbreakable. The people hated him for it, throwing him into a pit, but his warning stood.
And then came Jesus—the ultimate Prophet, the final sign to a rebellious generation. He didn't just act out parables; He was the parable. He rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, condemning the people's empty religiosity. He overturned tables in the Temple, proclaiming judgment on its corrupt priesthood. He cursed a fig tree, a living symbol of Israel's barrenness, and it withered before His disciples' eyes. And just as He foretold, the judgment came. In AD 70, the Romans surrounded Jerusalem, madness consumed the city, blood filled its streets, and the Temple was reduced to ashes. The fig tree was uprooted. The mountain was cast into the sea.
Now, all of this brings us to our particular parable in question, which is in Matthew 24, where Jesus says:
"Now learn the parable from the fig tree: when its branch has already become tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near; so, you too, when you see all these things, recognize that He is near, right at the door. "- Matthew 24:32-33
We must remember that when Jesus mentions this in Matthew 24, His disciples had only hours earlier watched Him curse the fig tree. So, to understand the meaning of this in Chapter 24, we should go back and make sure we understood what happened in Chapter 21.
PART 5: THE JERUSALEM FIG TREE OF MATTHEW 21
Most of the public fireworks in Matthew's Gospel occur In chapters 21-23. If we were standing in the crowds on that day, we would have seen Jesus triumphantly riding into a withered city that only offered Him leaves. No fruit. By afternoon, we would have witnessed Him overthrowing tables outside the rotten Temple and chasing out the rebels with a hand-braided whip. No fruit. The next day, we would have seen Him pronouncing some of the sharpest parables He had uttered, denouncing them for bearing no fruit. And, in the midst of all this fruitlessness, He curses a local fig tree for bearing Him no fruit, which would have been a curious thing to see. This is what the text tells us:
Now, in the morning, when He was returning to the city, He became hungry. Seeing a lone fig tree by the road, He came to it and found nothing on it except leaves only, and He said to it, "No longer shall there ever be any fruit from you." And at once, the fig tree withered. Seeing this, the disciples were amazed and asked, "How did the fig tree wither all at once?" And Jesus answered and said to them, "Truly I say to you, if you have faith and do not doubt, you will not only do what was done to the fig tree but even if you say to this mountain, 'Be taken up and cast into the sea,' it will happen. And all things you ask in prayer, believing, you will receive." - Matthew 21:18-22
At that moment, we should not assume Jesus was hangry for not getting His breakfast fig bar or egg McMuffin. Jesus was pronouncing judgments on a city and a temple that offered Him no fruit. They were dead in their trespasses and sins. They were withered and fruitless branches on God's vine that were destined for removal and fire (John 15:6). Along with that, we would be right to remember how Jerusalem had been compared to a fig tree in various Old Testament passages (such as Jeremiah 8:1-13; 24:1-11; 29:16-18; Hosea 9:10) as well as Malachi's prophecy that this same people would be left fruitless, with neither root nor branch (Malachi 4:3).
Knowing all these things, as Jesus approached the fruitless city of Jerusalem that morning, which was visible as a mountain city in the distance, and as He cursed a common symbol for Jerusalem, which was a fig tree, we have to remember that if we were there, we would have totally understood what Jesus was doing. He was equating the fate of the fig tree with the doom of Jerusalem. And in just the same way that tree would be thrown into the fire, so would Jerusalem be set ablaze. Just like Jesus said the mountain would be lifted up and cast into the sea, we would have understood Jesus was talking about the hill Jerusalem sat on. He was referring to the fact that Rome would loot and pillage everything in the city, taking the "mountain" back home to them as treasure, casting Jerusalem's booty on their boats, and casting them off into the sea. Jesus looks right at the mountain of Jerusalem after cursing a fig tree and says if you have enough faith, even THIS mountain will be lifted up and cast into the sea… And it was in the downfall and plundering of Jerusalem.
Now, let's compare this parable in Matthew 21 to what Jesus is saying in Matthew 24.
PART 6: THE OLIVET FIG TREE OF MATTHEW 24
Just a few chapters later, Jesus uses another fig tree parable to tell a tale of blessing. Unlike the fig tree, which represents Jerusalem, which is destined for doom and devastation, Jesus uses another parabolic fig tree in Matthew 24 to describe the blessings He will bring to His people. This is what Jesus says:
"Now learn the parable from the fig tree: when its branch has already become tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near; so, you too, when you see all these things, recognize that He is near, right at the door. Truly, I say to you, this generation will not pass away until all these things take place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but My words will not pass away. - Matthew 24:32-35
We must remember who Jesus is speaking to. These are the men Jesus warned not to follow after false Christs and counterfeit messiahs (Matthew 24:3). These are men who will see and experience wars during an era of unparalleled peace (Matthew 24:6) and increased famines and earthquakes as signs that Jerusalem's fate was nearing (Matthew 24:7-8). These are the men who would be delivered over to the Jews, who would terrorize them, persecute them, and kill them for following Jesus (Matthew 24:9). These are the men who would lead churches during an era where many would abandon their faith because the fires of persecution were burning far too hot (Matthew 24:10). These are the men who would see Judah descend into lawlessness, disorder, factions, chaos, and tyranny (Matthew 24:12). These are the men who would fill the world full of the Gospel message before the end of the Jewish age (Matthew 24:14). Some of them would see the abomination of desolation, which Luke describes as Jerusalem being surrounded by armies (Matthew 24:15; Luke 21:20). Some would be fleeing to the Judean mountains for safety because Jesus had already warned them when to flee (Matthew 24:16). Perhaps some remained in the city, and saw the multiple signs that Josephus records, the walls tumbling down, the poverty in the streets, the depravity in the hearts, the cannibalism of mothers, the tribalism of the fleeting Jewish leaders, and the idolatrous sacrifice of the Romans while the bodies were piled up high (Matthew 24:21-28).
These are the men who would understand Jesus' sign in the heavens. They saw Him raised from the dead, ascended from earth on the clouds of heaven, to sit down at the right hand of God the Father to rule over His blood-bought Kingdom (Daniel 7; Matthew 24:29-30). These are the men who wrote of Christ who will put all His enemies under His feet (1 Corinthians 15:25; Ephesians 1:22; Hebrews 2:8), beginning with Jerusalem and Judah (James 5:1-8).
To these men, Jesus promised a different outcome than what would be happening to the Jews. The Jews had become a cursed fig tree. The Church would be blessed, and they would be a blessing. The Jews had borne no fruit for their God. The Church would become like a fig tree in summer, ready at any moment to burst forth with the most luxuriant blooms to feed the nations. The Jews of that first century, all who rejected Christ, would be thrown into the fires. The Church, in that very generation, would see all these things happen and would lay the Kingdom foundation for all subsequent generations.
Today, we are a part of that fruitful Church. The Lord is still pruning us, shaping us, and sharing our fruit with the nations. Over the last 2000 years, the Church has continued to grow and will continue to grow until all the world is feasting on the blessings of Christ. Jesus uses a tale of two fig trees to show us the point. The Jews were cursed. The Church will come into eternal blessings.
Now, before we end our time on this episode, I want to compare this to what we see going on in the book of Revelation, which also compares the Church to a tree.
PART 7: REVELATION AND THE CHURCH AS TREE
The story of the trees does not end with the Olivet Discourse. It stretches its roots deep into the soil of revelation, where the full weight of Jesus' prophetic words comes crashing down in judgment and where the promise of a greater tree—one that will heal the nations—unfolds in glorious triumph. The cursed fig tree of Jerusalem was only the beginning.
In Revelation 22, the vision shifts. No longer do we see a city in flames, a tree withered by judgment. Instead, we see a river of life, clear as crystal, flowing from the throne of God. And beside this river stands a new tree—one that is unlike any that came before.
This tree is not sickly. It does not fail to bear fruit. It does not stand on the brink of destruction. It flourishes.
It stretches out its branches, strong and full of life, bearing twelve kinds of fruit, producing in every season, never ceasing, never failing. It is no mere remnant. It is the new and everlasting reality.
This is the Church, the bride of Christ, the New Jerusalem, not built on the crumbling foundation of the old world, but upon Christ Himself. The leaves of this tree do not shrivel and fall away. They spread across the nations, healing them, renewing them, transforming them.
The contrast could not be more striking. The fig tree of Jerusalem had been cut down and left for dead. But the tree of life, the tree that now stands in the New Jerusalem, is eternal. The Temple of stone had been burned to the ground, never to rise again. But Christ's Temple—the body of believers, the living stones of His Kingdom—will never be destroyed. The judgment that fell upon the old world was complete, but the blessings of the new world were just beginning.
This is why we do not read revelation with fear. This is why we do not tremble at its visions of judgment; we know they have already fallen upon those for whom they were meant. The curse is not upon us. The curse has been lifted.
We are not waiting for victory. We are living in it. The trees of revelation tell a story—a tale of judgment and fulfillment, of death and resurrection, of the passing of the old and the birth of the new. The fruitless fig tree was cursed, uprooted, and burned. But in its place, a new tree was planted, one that will never be cut down, one whose branches will stretch across the whole earth until every nation, every tribe, every tongue confesses that Jesus Christ is King.
This is the story of history. This is the story we are living in now. And the best part? We are the branches of that tree. The Church will never wither. The Church will never be uprooted. The Church will continue to bear fruit until all the world is feasting on the blessings of Christ. The fig tree of Judah has fallen. The tree of life remains. And His Kingdom shall have no end.
CONCLUSION
We are not losing. We are not retreating. We are not cowering in the shadows of a crumbling world. We are advancing. We are taking ground. We are pushing back the darkness and bringing the glorious light of Christ to every inch of this earth until the whole world resounds with His praise.
Jesus Christ is on the throne. He is reigning. His enemies are being crushed beneath His feet, just as He promised (Psalm 110:1). The world is not spiraling into oblivion; it is being redeemed, day by day, moment by moment, as His Kingdom expands like leaven in the loaf (Matthew 13:33).
So let me be crystal clear: Do not—DO NOT—buy into the defeatist lie that we are doomed, that we are outnumbered, that the world is too far gone. Nonsense. Absolute, ridiculous nonsense. Christ is victorious. His Church is marching forward. And we, as His people, have been called to labor, build, fight, and reclaim what is rightfully His.
Yes, we will celebrate the wins of the new Trump administration. Yes, we will stand against the insanity that has plagued our nation for far too long. Yes, we will overturn every foul and wicked doctrine of demons that has enslaved our land. But our victory is not ultimately about a political party, a policy change, or a fleeting moment of earthly success. Our victory is cosmic. Our victory is eternal. Our victory is the total and absolute triumph of the Kingdom of God.
So do not be discouraged. Do not be pessimistic. Do not fall into the trap of believing that evil is stronger than Christ. The gates of hell cannot—WILL NOT—prevail against His Church (Matthew 16:18). The future is not dark. The future is as bright as the promises of God. And His promise is this: Every knee will bow. Every tongue will confess. Every nation will stream to His throne for healing, and the knowledge of the Lord will cover the earth as the waters cover the sea (Habakkuk 2:14).
But here's the deal—you are not called to sit back and watch this unfold. You are called to WORK. You are called to LABOR. You are called to BUILD. In your homes, in your families, in your churches, in your communities, in your nations—you are called to be a soldier of Christ and an ambassador of His unstoppable Kingdom.
So rise up. Get to work. Build something that will last for generations. And do it with joy. Because we do not labor in vain. We do not fight for a lost cause. We labor, we fight, and we build because we know—WE KNOW—that Christ has already won.
