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THE WALK FROM JERUSALEM

As Jesus and His disciples left the Temple Mount Tuesday afternoon, memories of what had just occurred were still ricocheting in their minds. Early that morning, Jesus had cursed a fig tree as a dramatic parabolic display of what would soon happen to Jerusalem. Then, after a brief encounter with the Pharisees where they challenged His authority in the Temple, Jesus delivered three scathing parables describing, with increasing clarity, the covenantal catastrophe that would soon befall Old Testament Judah.

The Jews, while listening to their national epitaph, received His parables with about as much grace as a decapitated rattlesnake, still opening and closing its mouth, able and willing at a moment to strike. It was at this point Jesus challenged their authority, humiliating them in front of all of Jerusalem. First, by answering their trap-like questions. Second, by posing questions they could not answer. And third, by declaring 7 Deuteronomic woes upon the city, that would soon feel the full weight of God's awesome wrath for their crimes against the covenant.

As the disciples were walking away from the city and the Temple they adored, they must have been hoping they misunderstood Jesus' words about the Temple. But after pointing to the temple complex looming over them, they were struck with the piercing finality of His linguistic precision and clarity. The Temple before them would be destroyed. Brick by brick, would be torn apart. The city would be burned. God's redemption of sinful humanity would transition away from priests, temples, sacrifices, and feasts of Israel to a new and final era centered on Jesus Christ, our only hope for salvation.

With such seismic shifts about to break upon the landscape of redemption, is it any wonder the disciples wanted to know three specific things from their master and Lord? They wanted to know: 1) When would the Temple be destroyed? 2) What signs would occur showing them its destruction was drawing near? And 3) Would its destruction signal the end of the Jewish age?

Last week, we saw Jesus tackling their second question first, giving them introductory signs that the end of Jerusalem was coming. Jesus told them it would be like a woman whose labor pains increase with intensity as the delivery draws near (Matthew 24:8). So, in the same way, the signs Jesus gave them would increase in intensity until the city was destroyed. A few weeks ago, we saw the first sign Jesus gave: the rise of false messianic figures who would lead the nation into ruin and disaster, climaxing in their delivery over to the legions of Rome. Today, we will see the second, third, and fourth signs that Jerusalem will be shaken to the dust, which is the dawn of wars and rumors of wars, earthquakes, and famines. But first, let us briefly remind ourselves about what a sign is.

REMINDER ABOUT SIGNS

Imagine this: you’re living in a world without news apps, no social media, no daily briefings. When big events happen, there’s no instant notification pinging on your phone. Instead, you’re looking around, watching the skies, the earth, and the events unfolding in your world, wondering if they mean something bigger. In biblical times, people understood these events as “signs”—not just miraculous wonders to make you go, “Wow!” but messages from God, signposts pointing to something real, something urgent, something for them.

Now, let’s talk about these signs. When God gave signs in the Bible, they were direct, specific, and meant for the people who saw them. Think about the Old Testament. God didn’t send plagues on Egypt as some riddle for the ages; He was making a statement—front and center—to Pharaoh and his people. Every single plague was a message: “This is what happens when you try to stand against the God of Israel.” Or the rainbow after the flood—it wasn’t a vague symbol for future generations to try and decode; it was a concrete promise to Noah, a reminder to those survivors that God wouldn’t flood the earth again. Signs in Scripture aren’t hidden clues—they’re undeniable, in-your-face messages that speak directly to their time and place.

But by the time Jesus was on the scene, people started asking for signs for all the wrong reasons. The religious leaders didn’t really want to see if He was the Messiah—they were trying to trap Him, force Him to “prove” Himself on demand. And Jesus? He doesn’t play along. He gives them “the sign of Jonah,” a prophetic warning they couldn’t ignore: just as Jonah’s time in the belly of the fish was a wake-up call to Nineveh, so would Jesus’ death and resurrection be a sign of judgment for those who refused to believe.

Now, here’s where it gets interesting—because while Jesus didn’t entertain the demands of His critics, He did give signs to His disciples. And these signs? They were real, practical, and most importantly, relevant. When the disciples asked about the destruction of the Temple and the end of the age, Jesus didn’t give them some mysterious prophecy for centuries down the line. He gave them specific markers—wars, rumors of wars, famines, earthquakes—signs they would actually see, signs that were meant to guide them through the coming upheaval.

But here’s where we go wrong today: we take those same signs and project them way out into the future, as if Jesus was talking about some distant, mysterious end times for people thousands of years later. But let’s get real here—what would be the point of giving signs that wouldn’t mean anything to His disciples? Jesus wasn’t in the business of vague prophecies; He was preparing His followers for what they were going to face in their lifetime. A sign without relevance to its audience isn’t a sign at all—it’s just noise.

Now, let’s take Revelation. People often call it “the book of signs.” But somehow, we’ve twisted it into this endless riddle, thinking it’s all about some future apocalypse. But for John, Revelation was a message for the early Church, people who were living under the Roman Empire, facing real persecution. These signs in Revelation were vivid, urgent, and specific to the early Christians who needed them. They were messages to those living under Rome’s iron fist, dealing with daily threats to their faith and their lives.

Take Revelation 12, where John describes the woman and the dragon. Now, for us, it might seem like a strange symbol, but to early Christians, it was a picture of Israel and the coming victory of Christ over evil. Or Revelation 13, where the beast represents Rome, the empire that loomed over these early believers like a dark shadow. These signs weren’t a cosmic mystery for future generations; they were meant to speak directly to the people living through this. These early Christians didn’t need puzzles—they needed hope, assurance, and clarity.

Think about it: if you’re driving down a highway and you see a sign, you need it to relate to your route, your path, not to a journey someone will take thousands of miles and years away. A sign only matters if it’s relevant to the people who see it. Jesus’ disciples needed signs they could recognize and understand in their generation, and that’s exactly what He gave them. In Matthew 24, when Jesus talks about “wars and rumors of wars,” He’s not telling a distant future audience to start looking for signs; He’s talking to His disciples, preparing them for events that would soon shake their world.

This is where we need a reality check. Signs in the Bible were never meant to be riddles for people thousands of years later to guess at. They were intentional, meaningful, and for the people who saw them. Jesus wasn’t warning people in some distant age; He was speaking directly to His followers about the destruction of the Temple, the collapse of the Jewish order, and the shaking of their world. And Revelation? It’s not some cryptic puzzle. It was written for the early Church, living under the crushing weight of Roman rule, with real, immediate messages that gave them courage and strength.

Look, it’s simple: a sign only has value if it points to something relevant for its audience. Jesus didn’t give vague predictions. He gave real warnings and promises for real people in a real time. Biblical signs weren’t abstract mysteries; they were markers pointing to urgent truths. And by trying to twist them into something else, we lose the power of what they meant for the people who needed them the most.

So, when we read these texts, let’s get back to their roots. Jesus wasn’t talking in circles—He was speaking with purpose, clarity, and relevance. His words in Matthew 24, the visions in Revelation, all had one thing in common: they were signs for their time, timely messages meant to strengthen, warn, and guide. And when we try to pull them out of context, we miss the true message. The power of these signs was in their immediacy, their truth for the people who first received them.

So, as we explore these texts, like Matthew 24, let's keep this perspective in mind. Jesus says, 

You will be hearing of wars and rumors of wars. See that you are not frightened, for those things must take place, but that is not yet the end. For nation will rise against nation, and Kingdom against Kingdom, and in various places there will be famines and earthquakes. But all these things are merely the beginning of birth pangs. - Matthew 24:6-8

His words weren't about a distant, mysterious future—they were for a specific moment in history, a warning and a guide for His followers in their own time. Now, let's take a look at these three signs one by one. 

SIGN 1: THE WARS AND RUMORS OF WARS

In addition to the sign of false messiahs and antichrists, Jesus gives His disciples more evidence that they will see with their own two eyes so that they can know when these things were occurring, how the signs played into the timing, and how all of this was accomplishing the end of the Jewish age.

The next sign Jesus gives them is that there will be a dramatic uptick in the frequency of both wars and the rumors of wars to that first-century people.  

Here is what Jesus says:

You will be hearing of wars and rumors of wars. See that you are not frightened, for those things must take place, but that is not yet the end. For nation will rise against nation and Kingdom against Kingdom. - Matthew 24:6-7

To understand how these things must have occurred in the first century, we need to know something about the period that Jesus and His disciples lived in, which, as you will see, was very different from our own. 

THE ESTABLISHMENT OF THE PAX ROMANA

When Jesus addressed His followers, they were living in one of the most unique periods of peace in world history—the Pax Romana, or Roman Peace. This wasn’t just a slogan; it was a reality that shaped every aspect of life for people across the empire. Rome’s peace had been so carefully built, so powerfully enforced, that most of Jesus’ followers could hardly imagine a world without it.

The Pax Romana was born out of incredible turmoil. Rome, a once-mighty Republic that had ruled for centuries, fell apart in the 1st century B.C. because of relentless internal conflict, political corruption, and power struggles. The turning point came when Julius Caesar, the man who crowned himself “dictator for life,” disrupted the balance of power by consolidating authority under himself, ending nearly five hundred years of senatorial rule. But his reign was cut short in a gruesome way—assassinated on the Senate floor by men hoping to restore Rome’s old ways.

But instead of restoring peace, Caesar’s assassination triggered a brutal power struggle. For over a decade, the Roman world descended into civil war. Bloodshed swept across regions as generals and political leaders wrestled for control. Julius Caesar’s adopted son, Octavian—whom we know as Augustus—eventually rose to power in 31 B.C. after defeating Mark Antony and Cleopatra at the Battle of Actium. Augustus didn’t just become a leader; he redefined Rome entirely. He ushered in a new era, one that saw Rome transformed from a Republic into a vast empire, with himself as the first true emperor. His reign marked the beginning of what would become known as the Pax Romana.

This peace was built on strict control and strategic military presence. Augustus stationed legions throughout the empire, not to expand Rome’s borders but to maintain stability within them. He secured the frontiers, reformed government, and invested heavily in infrastructure—Roman roads, aqueducts, and public buildings became symbols of this new era. These roads, expertly engineered and spanning thousands of miles, connected people and goods in a way the world had never seen. They were the highways of Rome’s influence, allowing merchants, soldiers, and travelers to journey across the empire, from Britain to Egypt, with a sense of safety and freedom that would have been unimaginable just a generation earlier.

For the disciples, born and raised in this world, the Pax Romana wasn’t just a political reality; it was woven into the fabric of their everyday lives. Imagine the bustling markets, the crowded synagogues, and the countryside under Roman protection—daily life pulsed with a feeling of security and predictability. Jesus’ disciples had likely never seen large-scale conflict. They probably couldn’t imagine their towns disrupted by foreign armies or their roads unsafe. War was a distant story—something from history books, something that happened long ago or far away.

And yet, standing before His followers, Jesus said, “You will hear of wars and rumors of wars.” To us, that might sound like a general warning, but to these men, those words were shocking, even disturbing. Jesus was telling them that the peace they knew, the stability they took for granted, would soon be shaken. This would have been hard for them to fathom. The Pax Romana was as solid and reliable to them as the seasons—how could it possibly fall apart?

Let’s imagine this in real time. Picture one of Jesus’ disciples sitting in a crowded marketplace in Galilee. Around him, he sees merchants selling goods from as far as North Africa and Asia Minor. Roman soldiers stand guard, maintaining the peace. Nearby, a group of children plays by the roadside, laughing and carefree, while travelers and traders from distant lands pass by on those famous Roman roads, completely confident in Rome’s power to protect them.

And then, suddenly, this disciple hears of an uprising, a rebellion within the empire, something that has been unthinkable in his lifetime. This was no longer just a vague warning. It was reality crashing in, like the start of a storm breaking over a calm sea. Jesus’ words, once a cryptic message, would begin to make sense. The peace of Rome wasn’t as invincible as it had seemed.

In 66 A.D., a Jewish revolt would break out against the Roman occupation, and Judea would become a battleground. By 70 A.D., the very city of Jerusalem, the heart of Jewish identity and faith, would be destroyed by Roman legions. To these early Christians, this wasn’t ancient history—it was happening before their eyes. They saw Jesus’ prophecy unfold in real-time, feeling the terror and upheaval of watching their world fracture.

But here’s where Jesus’ words become even more powerful. His prophecy was more than just a prediction of war. It was an invitation for His disciples—and for us—to see beyond the temporary peace of human empires. The Roman peace, though remarkable, was still a human peace. It was impressive, yes, but ultimately fragile. Rome’s stability depended on soldiers, roads, and Caesar’s decrees, and Jesus knew that it wouldn’t last.

Jesus’ warning to His disciples was a call to place their hope in something far more enduring than Rome’s power. He was calling them—and us—to look beyond the kingdoms of this world to a kingdom that can’t be shaken. While the Pax Romana would one day fall, the Kingdom of God, the Kingdom Jesus proclaimed, is unbreakable, built on the eternal promises of God.

So, what does this mean for us today? Like Jesus’ disciples, we can be tempted to find our security in things that seem permanent but aren’t—whether that’s political stability, economic prosperity, or technological progress. But Jesus invites us to place our trust in a Kingdom that doesn’t depend on earthly powers, one that offers a peace that no empire, government, or ruler can grant.

As history has shown, even the mightiest empires can and do crumble. But the Kingdom of God, established by Christ, will stand forever. And it’s to that Kingdom, not the temporary constructs of men, that Jesus calls us to anchor our lives.

THE EROSION OF PEACE

When Jesus told His disciples, “You will hear of wars and rumors of wars,” He was speaking into a world very different from ours. Today, we hear about conflict and war nearly every day. War has become almost ordinary—it's woven into the news cycle, the economy, even our culture. In America alone, we’ve seen conflicts that span the globe: the Gulf War, Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya, Syria, Ukraine, and now the Israel-Hamas conflict. Growing up in the modern era, it’s almost hard to imagine a world without war. War is so frequent, so regular, it barely makes headlines anymore unless it’s particularly catastrophic.

If Jesus gave us a warning to look out for wars and rumors of wars, it would be almost meaningless. Every few years, we would be hearing “wars and rumors of wars.” How could a sign like that stand out in a world so deeply accustomed to conflict? For us, the phrase “wars and rumors of wars” might be more descriptive of the status quo than of anything new or alarming.

But in the first century, the situation was different—so different that it’s actually hard for us to fully appreciate. Jesus’ disciples lived under the famous Pax Romana, the Roman Peace, which wasn’t just a concept but a reality that shaped every part of their daily lives. This peace was extraordinary, so much so that it's hard to find another era in history that compares to it.

The Roman Empire, which stretched across the Mediterranean and beyond, enforced peace and order through a powerful combination of military strength, legal reforms, and political strategy. Augustus Caesar had come to power after a brutal period of civil war that almost tore Rome apart. After years of violent conflict, Augustus rebuilt Rome from the inside out. He stationed legions strategically across the empire—not to conquer new lands, but to keep the peace in the territories they already controlled. Rome’s influence was held together by its famous network of roads, military garrisons, and strict laws. Roman roads, some of the best-engineered in history, connected cities across the empire, from Britain to Egypt. They carried goods, ideas, and soldiers, all under Rome’s iron protection.

The Mediterranean world, for the first time in its history, could trade, travel, and communicate without fear of invasion or violence on a grand scale. Imagine a world where the thought of foreign invasion or uprisings disrupting daily life was unimaginable. To the people in Jesus’ day, the idea of widespread war wasn’t just distant—it was almost unreal. Rome’s peace felt as natural to them as the sunrise.

And then, in this stable world, Jesus tells His disciples, “You will hear of wars and rumors of wars.” For the people around Him, these words would have been jarring. His disciples had grown up under Roman stability, a calm that was enforced by legions and reinforced by the laws of the empire. The very idea that this peace could be broken would have sounded almost absurd. Wars breaking out? Here? Under Rome’s watchful eye? Jesus’ warning must have been like a splash of cold water.

When Jesus spoke, it was between 30 B.C. and 65 A.D., one of the only stretches in recorded history when a large region was free from major war. This wasn’t a world of constant conflict; it was a world where people could go their entire lives without hearing about battles or seeing the effects of war. Rome’s power and stability were so far-reaching that peace was the norm. And yet, Jesus told them that this very peace would begin to unravel. His words were a prophetic sign—something that would grab the attention of people who weren’t accustomed to conflict.

And that’s exactly what happened. As Jesus predicted, rumors of conflict began to surface, stirring uncertainty in a world that had long known only stability. By 66 A.D., just a generation after Jesus spoke, Jerusalem itself became a hotbed of unrest. The Jewish-Roman War broke out, an intense conflict that would culminate in the siege of Jerusalem and the destruction of the Temple in 70 A.D. What had once seemed like an unshakable peace began to crumble, and Jesus’ words, once cryptic, became a haunting reality for His disciples.

In our modern era, where conflicts are almost routine, it’s easy to lose sight of the impact of these words. But to Jesus’ followers, living in an era of peace they had every reason to believe would last, the idea of “wars and rumors of wars” would have sounded shocking. They would feel the weight of every new rumor, every fresh report of conflict, as the world they had trusted in began to fracture.

This prophecy wasn’t just a warning—it was a call to prepare, to find security in something beyond human constructs. Rome’s peace, as remarkable as it was, was still a peace of human design. It was impressive but ultimately fragile. The kingdom Jesus spoke of, however, would endure, built on a foundation that no human empire could achieve.

Today, as we look back on this prophecy and how it played out, we’re reminded that true peace—the peace Jesus offers—doesn’t come from political stability or military strength. It’s a peace that transcends human history, a peace that calls us to place our hope not in earthly powers but in the eternal Kingdom of God.

In a world filled with conflict and unrest, Jesus’ words echo across the centuries, inviting us to seek a Kingdom that cannot be shaken. The Roman Empire fell, as all human empires eventually do. But the Kingdom Jesus promised is eternal, unbreakable, and stands firm—no matter what wars or rumors of wars may come.

THE WAR JESUS PREDICTED

When Jesus warned His disciples, “You will hear of wars and rumors of wars,” He was speaking into a world where tension was building to a boiling point, especially in Judea. To understand the gravity of His prophecy, we need to immerse ourselves in the first-century political and cultural landscape, particularly in Judea, where conflict had been simmering for years, fueled by deep-seated resentment toward Roman rule.

First-century Judea was a province caught between fierce loyalty to Jewish customs and the powerful, unyielding grip of the Roman Empire. Rome had extended its empire across the Mediterranean through relentless military conquests, and with that power came a formidable control over conquered lands. Roman peace—or Pax Romana—came at a price. To maintain stability, Rome often imposed heavy taxes and stationed troops in volatile regions. And while many provinces eventually adapted to Roman governance, Judea was a different story.

The Jewish people had a deeply rooted religious and cultural identity, centered around the Temple in Jerusalem and their laws given by God. They believed they were a chosen people, bound to a covenant with God that set them apart from other nations. For the Jews, Roman rule was more than just a political inconvenience; it was an affront to their identity and faith. To them, bowing to Rome was almost a betrayal of their covenant with God.

This tension reached new heights around 6 A.D., when Rome took direct control of Judea. Roman governors began overseeing local matters, and the tax burden increased sharply. Judea’s heavy taxes fueled resentment and rebellion, especially among the lower classes. These weren’t minor taxes—Rome’s demands were so severe that many Jewish families struggled to make ends meet. Farmers, burdened by taxes, were forced to sell their land to pay Rome’s dues, creating a growing class of landless poor, an increasingly volatile underclass with little to lose and every reason to resent Rome’s rule.

Alongside the economic strain, religious tensions boiled over. Roman governors like Pontius Pilate and later Gessius Florus were notorious for their insensitivity to Jewish customs. Pilate, for example, infamously brought Roman standards bearing images of the emperor into Jerusalem—images that Jews saw as idolatrous, a violation of their commandment against graven images. When protests erupted, Pilate’s response was brutal, ordering his soldiers to disperse the crowds with force, igniting fury across the region.

It wasn’t just the governors who intensified resentment. Herod the Great, though appointed by Rome, tried to win favor with the Jewish people by expanding the Temple. His reconstruction transformed the Temple into one of the most magnificent buildings in the Roman world, but his allegiance to Rome was never in doubt. While some saw Herod’s renovations as a gift to their nation, others saw it as Rome’s attempt to manipulate and control their worship.

After Herod’s death, his kingdom was divided among his sons, but Judea fell into political instability. When one of Herod’s sons proved unable to control the region, Rome stepped in, sending governors who were often out of touch with Jewish customs and culture, which only widened the divide.

By the time Jesus began His ministry, multiple Jewish factions were vying for influence, each with a different approach to Rome’s presence. The Pharisees emphasized strict observance of the law, hoping that God would bless them by sending the Messiah if they remained pure. The Sadducees, who controlled the Temple, cooperated with Rome, trying to maintain their power and avoid conflict. The Essenes, a separatist group, retreated from society, believing that the Messiah would come only after a period of purification. But perhaps the most extreme faction was the Zealots, a group that believed liberation from Rome was not only desirable but divinely mandated. The Zealots were convinced that God would support any effort to overthrow their oppressors, and they didn’t hesitate to use violence to make their point.

This cauldron of political, economic, and religious pressures was already nearing a boiling point when, in the 60s A.D., a series of events tipped the scales. Anti-Roman sentiment reached fever pitch under the rule of the Roman governor Gessius Florus, known for his brutality and corruption. Florus openly stole from the Temple treasury, seizing seventeen talents of silver, a massive sum that outraged the Jewish population. Protests erupted across Jerusalem, but Florus responded with shocking cruelty, ordering a massacre of Jewish citizens.

It was under this leadership that tensions escalated beyond Rome’s control. A full-blown revolt erupted in 66 A.D. Jewish rebels attacked the Roman garrison in Jerusalem, killing soldiers and declaring their independence. The war that Jesus had predicted was now in motion.

When word of the rebellion reached Rome, Emperor Nero knew this was more than just a local disturbance. Judea was now in open defiance, and for Rome, allowing a revolt to go unpunished would signal weakness across the empire. So Nero appointed General Vespasian, a seasoned and brutal commander, to crush the rebellion. Vespasian was no stranger to conflict; he had built his career on methodical and ruthless suppression of uprisings.

By 67 A.D., Vespasian arrived in Galilee with his legions and launched a fierce campaign. With his son Titus, he led a brutal march through the countryside, systematically dismantling pockets of resistance. Town after town fell to the Roman forces, their resistance crushed. Roman historian Tacitus wrote that Vespasian’s forces “stormed the hills and strongholds… leaving devastation in their wake, as they subdued the province with methodical precision.” Vespasian’s strategy was clear: no mercy, no compromise. The Romans would leave a scorched trail as a warning to any who dared defy the empire.

And then, in 70 A.D., Vespasian’s son, Titus, led the final assault on Jerusalem. The siege of Jerusalem was one of the most harrowing events in ancient history. The city, swollen with pilgrims for Passover, became a death trap. As Roman forces encircled the city, famine gripped those within. Josephus, a Jewish historian who witnessed these events, writes about the horrors inside the city walls. People fought over scraps of food. Families turned on one another. Desperation led some to unthinkable acts. In The Jewish War, he recalls, “Children pulled food from their fathers, and mothers stole from their infants.” Hunger, violence, and despair consumed the city as the siege wore on.

The Romans built massive siege works, towers, and battering rams to breach the walls. When they finally broke through, Titus ordered the city burned. The Temple itself, the heart of Jewish identity and worship, went up in flames. Titus’s forces dismantled the Temple stone by stone, leaving nothing but ashes and ruin. The few survivors were taken into slavery or executed. Josephus estimates that over a million people died in the siege. For the Jewish people, it was a tragedy of unimaginable proportions—the end of temple-centered worship, the collapse of the very system that had defined them for generations.

This was the war Jesus had warned His disciples about. A generation before, He had told them, “Not one stone here will be left on another.” And as they saw the Temple reduced to rubble, those words must have echoed with chilling clarity. The Jewish state, as it had been, was no more. The Zealot uprising was crushed, and Rome’s message was unmistakable: no rebellion against the empire would be tolerated.

The destruction of Jerusalem marked not only the end of Jewish political autonomy but a profound shift in the course of religious history. With the Temple gone, Judaism had to transform, adapting to a world where sacrifices could no longer be offered. And for Christians, this event was confirmation that the age of temple-centered worship had ended. The Kingdom Jesus had spoken of—a kingdom not bound by walls, borders, or temples—was spreading throughout the world.

So, when Jesus spoke of wars and rumors of wars, He was preparing His disciples for a specific event in their own time. But He was also pointing them, and us, toward a new reality: that the Kingdom of God would stand forever, unshaken by the rise and fall of earthly empires.

THE RUMORS OF WAR

Imagine you’re a Roman citizen or a Jewish resident in Judea around 68 A.D. For nearly a century, Rome has been the heartbeat of stability, an empire holding together a sprawling and diverse range of peoples through sheer strength, political maneuvering, and a famously unbreakable peace. This is the Pax Romana, a golden era of order established by the first emperor, Augustus, after Rome clawed its way out of brutal civil wars. But in 68 A.D., that peace began to shatter.

To understand the chaos of this time, we need to start with Emperor Nero, who was as controversial as they come. Nero was a man of contradictions—a public performer, an artist, and a despot. To the horror of Rome’s elite, Nero loved to sing, act, and even race chariots, far beneath the dignity of an emperor in the eyes of the Senate and the Roman nobility. But Nero’s theatrics were the least of Rome’s concerns. He quickly became infamous for his brutal treatment of Christians and suspected political enemies, his increasingly erratic behavior, and his insatiable appetite for luxury.

The infamous turning point in Nero’s reign came in 64 A.D., with the great fire of Rome—a blaze that burned for days and destroyed vast sections of the city. Rumors spread like wildfire themselves, with people whispering that Nero had started the fire to clear space for his grand architectural vision, his personal palace, the Domus Aurea or Golden House. Whether or not Nero was actually to blame, he deflected suspicion by scapegoating a new religious sect—Christians. The persecutions that followed were gruesome; Christians were burned as human torches in Nero’s gardens, crucified, and thrown to wild animals in the Colosseum. The brutality of these acts shocked even the Roman public and deepened the sense of unease about Nero’s rule.

But Nero’s spending was as reckless as his punishments. He drained Rome’s coffers with lavish projects, even sending agents to loot temples across the empire for gold. To fund his exploits, he imposed severe taxes on provinces like Judea, making life even harder for people already on the brink. For many in Judea, the taxes and heavy-handed Roman governance felt like salt in a wound, fueling resentment and rebellion.

Nero’s recklessness didn’t go unnoticed by Rome’s power brokers. By the late 60s, military commanders and governors around the empire were fed up. The situation exploded when the governor of Gaul, Julius Vindex, openly rebelled, rallying other provincial leaders to stand against Nero. It was a dangerous move, but it struck a chord. And when the governor of Hispania, a seasoned general named Galba, declared himself emperor, the die was cast. Nero was condemned as an enemy of the state, and facing betrayal on all sides, he fled Rome. Cornered and humiliated, he took his own life, leaving the empire without a ruler and thrusting Rome into chaos.

Now, without an emperor, Rome descended into one of its most chaotic years—the Year of the Four Emperors. The mighty Roman Empire, which had seemed invincible, was suddenly fractured, its fate hanging by a thread as generals, provinces, and legions scrambled to fill the power vacuum. First came Galba, a tough, no-nonsense military man. The Senate quickly confirmed him as emperor, but Galba’s support was shaky at best. He refused to reward those who backed his rise to power, trying to restore discipline, but instead, he alienated the very people he needed to secure his reign.

Within months, Galba was overthrown by Otho, a former friend of Nero who had ambitions of his own. Otho’s brief reign was turbulent; he was challenged by Vitellius, a powerful general from the Germanic legions who commanded fierce loyalty from his troops. Vitellius declared himself emperor and marched toward Rome, and the two armies met in a bloody clash. Otho’s forces were defeated, and rather than continue the conflict, he took his own life, hoping to prevent further bloodshed. But this act of mercy didn’t end the turmoil.

Vitellius, now the third emperor in less than a year, took control, but he proved a weak ruler. As he indulged in excesses, another contender emerged—Vespasian, a seasoned general who had been sent to crush the Jewish rebellion in Judea. Supported by the legions in Egypt and the eastern provinces, Vespasian saw the chaos in Rome as an opportunity. And with control over Rome’s grain supply, Vespasian held a crucial advantage. His supporters rallied, and in a swift move, his forces marched on Rome. Vitellius was captured and executed, finally ending the bloodshed. By December of 69 A.D., Vespasian was firmly seated as emperor, and the Flavian dynasty began. But Rome was shaken, scarred by months of civil war, and its people left questioning the strength of their empire.

This period of infighting and rapid changes in leadership wasn’t just political turmoil; it was a shock to the entire empire. The famed stability of Rome—the empire that had been the envy of the world—had almost crumbled under its own weight. Roman historian Suetonius called it “a season of strife and bloodshed, where authority rested not with the Senate or the people, but with the general who commanded the strongest forces.” The once unassailable empire had shown its vulnerability, its fate swayed by the ambitions and betrayals of men.

Meanwhile, from Judea, this chaos must have looked like an empire coming apart at the seams. The Jewish historian Josephus, witnessing these events while dealing with his own people’s struggle against Roman rule, wrote that “the empire was shaken to its core, and even the gods seemed troubled by the strife among men.” For the Jews, this instability at Rome was a sign that perhaps the mighty empire wasn’t as invincible as it appeared. And for the early Christians, scattered across the empire, the “wars and rumors of wars” Jesus had warned about were unfolding before their eyes.

The Jewish revolt, the brutality of Nero, the power struggles in Rome—all of this signaled that the world was changing. For the first time in memory, the Roman peace—the Pax Romana that had given the empire its strength—was fragile, nearly broken. The legions were no longer a shield for the provinces but a threat within the heart of Rome. This wasn’t just political unrest; it was a psychological blow, a reminder to all under Rome’s rule that even the greatest human powers are unstable, fleeting, and frail.

In the end, Vespasian brought back a semblance of stability, but it was hard-won, and the scars of that year would linger. Rome had nearly lost itself in a whirlpool of ambition and betrayal, and Judea would feel the weight of Roman vengeance in full force. Vespasian returned to deal with the Jewish rebellion, and by 70 A.D., his son Titus would lead the siege of Jerusalem—a siege marked by unthinkable suffering, the destruction of the Temple, and the obliteration of Jewish political autonomy.

The “rumors of wars” that Jesus had spoken of had erupted, both in Judea and Rome, signaling the end of an era and the beginning of a new one. This wasn’t just the close of a chapter in Jewish history; it was a turning point for the entire Mediterranean world, a moment when the invincible Roman Empire showed the cracks in its foundation. For those early Christians and Jewish believers, these were signs that no earthly power, no matter how mighty, could offer true peace.

And so, as the dust settled, the words of Jesus took on new weight. “You will hear of wars and rumors of wars.” He wasn’t simply giving a warning about times to come; He was preparing His followers to find their security in a kingdom that wouldn’t be shaken, even as the world around them was. The Pax Romana, for all its might, was temporary. But the Kingdom of God—the Kingdom Jesus spoke of—would endure through every war, every rumor, and every upheaval, forever unbreakable.

HOW JESUS’ PROPHECY CONNECTS TO REVELATION

When Jesus warned His disciples in Matthew 24 of “wars and rumors of wars,” He was foretelling events that would unfold within that generation. His words weren’t abstract warnings about the distant future but vivid predictions of real conflicts that would soon shake Judea and Rome to their cores. In Revelation, John gives us a more detailed picture of these coming events, showing not only the internal collapse of Roman power but also the uprisings and devastation that would befall Jerusalem.

Let’s start with Jesus’ prophecy in Matthew 24, where He warned, “When you see Jerusalem surrounded by armies, then know that its desolation has come near.” Jesus’ words are direct: a coming siege would be the sign of Jerusalem’s impending destruction. This would be a war unlike anything His followers had known—a war that would see the Jewish people and their Temple crushed by Roman forces. His disciples must have found this prediction almost inconceivable; the Temple was the center of Jewish life, and Rome’s rule seemed unbreakable. Yet, within a generation, Jesus’ prophecy would be fulfilled with astonishing accuracy.

In the Book of Revelation, written in the same time frame, John’s visions expand on this prediction, depicting the chaos that would soon engulf both Jerusalem and Rome. In Revelation 6, John describes the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, symbolic figures representing conquest, war, famine, and death. These aren’t merely abstract symbols; they vividly reflect the escalating violence, political upheaval, and destruction that would sweep across both the empire and Judea in the late 60s A.D.

The second horseman, the red horse, is particularly striking. He is granted “power to take peace from the earth, so that people would slay one another; and he was given a great sword” (Revelation 6:4). This imagery is a precise match for the Jewish revolts that erupted across Judea, culminating in the Jewish-Roman War. The “taking of peace” is exactly what happened when Jewish rebels launched their insurrections, starting with violent uprisings in Jerusalem against Roman authorities. Tensions in Judea had been building for years, and by 66 A.D., open revolt broke out as Jewish zealots attacked Roman garrisons and drove out Roman troops from Jerusalem. This was a catastrophic declaration of war against the empire, a “taking of peace” that plunged the region into chaos.

Meanwhile, Revelation’s portrayal of internal Roman conflict mirrors the civil strife that erupted within the empire itself after Nero’s death. In Revelation 17:9-10, we read of “seven kings” representing Roman emperors: “Five have fallen, one is, and the other has not yet come; but when he does come, he must remain only a little while.” This prophetic sequence points directly to the chaos of the Year of the Four Emperors. The “five” who have fallen are Julius Caesar, Augustus, Tiberius, Caligula, and Claudius—the emperors who solidified Rome’s rule and brought it into the imperial age. “One is”—Nero, the emperor at the time Revelation was written. And “the other has not yet come, and when he does, he must remain only a little while”—this describes Galba, who took the throne after Nero but ruled for only seven turbulent months before being assassinated.

What followed was a violent succession crisis that nearly tore the empire apart. Galba’s death led to a power struggle involving three more emperors: Otho, Vitellius, and finally Vespasian, who managed to secure the throne after months of brutal civil war. Roman legions turned on each other, transforming parts of Italy into battlegrounds as each faction vied for power. Suetonius describes this period as a time when “authority rested not with the Senate or the people, but with the general who commanded the strongest forces.” The famed Pax Romana was shattered, with “rumors of wars” echoing through every province as the stability of Rome itself seemed to hang by a thread.

For the early Christians in Judea, this chaotic succession wasn’t a distant event—it was a fulfillment of Jesus’ words about “wars and rumors of wars.” Traders, soldiers, and officials brought news of the civil war in Rome across the empire. These rumors traveled down the well-established Roman roads, reaching Jerusalem and filling the hearts of the disciples with fear and anticipation. They could see Jesus’ prophecy coming to life, as each new report of conflict and each rumor of a new emperor in Rome underscored the fragility of human power and the approaching judgment on Jerusalem.

Revelation also foreshadows the brutal siege and destruction of Jerusalem itself. In Revelation 11, John speaks of a “great city,” spiritually called Sodom and Egypt, where “their Lord was crucified.” This clearly identifies the city as Jerusalem, and John describes it as a place of spiritual corruption and impending judgment. In Revelation 11:2, John is told to measure the Temple but to leave out the outer court, “for it has been given over to the nations, and they will trample the holy city for forty-two months.” This passage vividly captures the siege of Jerusalem, where Roman forces surrounded the city, trapping its inhabitants and cutting off supplies. The “trampling” of the holy city by Gentiles for “forty-two months” aligns with the period of intense conflict and siege that culminated in the city’s destruction in 70 A.D.

The siege itself was a nightmare. Led by the Roman general Titus, Vespasian’s son, the Roman army surrounded Jerusalem, cutting off food and water supplies. Josephus, a Jewish historian who witnessed the siege, describes the horrific conditions inside the city. Famine ravaged Jerusalem, driving people to extremes. Josephus recounts scenes of mothers stealing food from their children, and people fighting in the streets over scraps of bread. The violence, starvation, and desperation within the city mirrored the apocalyptic visions in Revelation, as every aspect of daily life was overshadowed by death and destruction.

When Titus’s forces finally breached Jerusalem’s walls, they unleashed unthinkable devastation. The Temple—the heart of Jewish religious life and the symbol of their covenant with God—was set ablaze and utterly destroyed. As Jesus had prophesied, “not one stone [was] left upon another.” The city lay in ruins, with thousands of its inhabitants either killed or taken as slaves. The Jewish people lost not only their city but also the center of their worship and identity. In Revelation, this destruction is depicted as divine judgment, the “great city” collapsing under the weight of its own corruption and rebellion.

Through all these events—the Jewish uprising, the civil war in Rome, and the siege of Jerusalem—both Jesus’ words and John’s visions in Revelation were fulfilled with chilling precision. Jesus had foretold of a coming judgment upon Jerusalem, a time of “wars and rumors of wars,” when the seemingly unshakable empire would descend into chaos and the holy city would be devastated. Revelation provides a deeper, almost cinematic view of these events, portraying them not just as historical happenings but as part of a divine plan, revealing the fragility of human power and the temporary nature of earthly kingdoms.

For the early Christians, living through this turmoil, these prophecies were a call to recognize that Rome, for all its strength, was vulnerable and that Jerusalem, for all its importance, was not eternal. The kingdom Jesus spoke of, and the kingdom John saw in Revelation, wasn’t bound by geography or political power. It was a kingdom that would endure beyond the destruction of Jerusalem and the upheavals of Rome. Jesus and John revealed that no human empire—no matter how mighty or enduring—could withstand the ultimate judgment of God. These events showed the disciples, and us, that the true Kingdom is built not on the shifting sands of human power but on the unshakeable foundation of God’s eternal reign.

Jesus’ prophecy in Matthew 24 and John’s visions in Revelation come together in a profound message: earthly powers rise and fall, but the Kingdom of God endures. And as Jerusalem burned and Rome battled itself, the followers of Christ were reminded that their hope lay not in temples or emperors, but in a King whose Kingdom would never be shaken.

HOW WE CAN HAVE HOPE?

When we read Matthew 24:6-8, we shouldn't be alarmed. The wars and rumors of wars Jesus described were not intended for some distant future but for the imminent judgment against Jerusalem, marking the end of the Jewish covenant era and demonstrating God's control over history. Over the span of forty years, God used these events to fulfill His plan, showcasing Jesus' foresight and authority. Through these words, Jesus displayed His unparalleled knowledge and power, ushering in a new peace that far surpassed anything Rome could offer.

At the time, Roman emperors were called "sons of god," tracing this title to Julius Caesar, who was deified posthumously. But in Christ, we have the true Son of God, the Prince of Peace, who promises genuine peace on earth and goodwill to all men. His Kingdom doesn't rely on earthly power or military might but is spread through His Church, which proclaims the Gospel to the ends of the earth. For us today, these prophecies are a testament to God's faithfulness and Jesus' sovereignty. We need not fear when thinking of the end times, for we live in the best era of human history—under the reign of the Kingdom of God's beloved Son, who will bring peace to the entire world once more, but unlike the Caesars, He will never lose His peace.

Now, in the remaining moments, I want to show you two remaining signs and how, like the pregnancy metaphor and the sign of Wars and Rumors of Wars, these things confirm a first-century fulfillment. Those final two signs for today are the rise in earthquakes and famines, which we will look at now. 

SIGN 2: THE SHAKING OF THE EARTH (EARTHQUAKES)

COVENANTAL EARTHQUAKES AND END-TIME SEISMIC SHIFTS

Before we look at Matthew 24 and the evidence of earthquakes in the ancient world, I want you and I to see that when Jesus came to the world, He intended to give it a good last day's shaking. Whatever remained would be left for Him to rule. Whatever fell away would be like chaff devoured by the scorching east wind. 

For instance, in Hebrews chapter 1, the author plainly tells us that we are living in the last days (Hebrews 1:1-2). To him, the "last days" represent the entire era of New Covenant redemption (i.e., the church age). After he drops that bomb, he describes how the era of priests, temples, and animal sacrifices was rolled up like a scroll to be put on the shelf (Hebrews 1:10-14). That long chapter was finally closed, and now the final chapter of human redemption has come through God's Son. 

Near the end of the book, after Christ replaced the Old Testament types and Old Covenant vestiges, the author gives a vivid picture of how Old Testament time will end. Not surprisingly, it ends the same way it begins, with a wiggle, wobbling, and jiggle-joggling covenantal shake. In the Old Testament, that happened on the local level by earthquakes at Mount Sinai. In this new covenantal era, the entire world and heaven must be shaken to welcome God's eternal Kingdom to this earth (Hebrews 12:18-29). While that shaking is clearly spiritual and covenantal, we shouldn't be surprised when the rocks cry out and when the fault lines tremble. They often see what is happening more clearly than we do. 

THE UNLEASHING OF EARTHQUAKES

When modern-day prophecy charlatans read the words of Christ:

"In various places, there will be famines and earthquakes. But all these things are merely the beginning of birth pangs." - Matthew 24:7-8

They assume Jesus is talking about phenomena that will necessarily plague the modern world. When this ilk of newspaper scholars spy a random earthquake in California or hear tell of an occasional famine in the Middle East, they are the first ones to dust off their heavenly suitcases and prep their underground bunkers for the inevitable tribulation. It is as if they believe we are the only people in human history who've ever felt the earth tremble under our feet or have seen our plants die in the dusty scorcher.   

It is essential, however, for all of us to remember that Jesus is responding to specific questions concerning first-century events that the disciples were asking Him about. They wanted to know when the Temple would be destroyed (Matthew 23:38-24:1-2), what would be the signs that this event was drawing near, and how would this bring about the end of the Jewish age (Matthew 24:3). It seems likely that the disciples would have been indifferent to modern day seismology, but they would have been quite eager to hear about signs occurring in their lifetime and in that generation (See Matthew 24:34). 

BIBLICAL EVIDENCE

As the life of Christ drew to its climactic conclusion, the earth itself seemed to respond, quaking with anticipation and signaling that something monumental was unfolding. The disciples likely remembered Jesus' prophecy that there would be "earthquakes in various places" (Matthew 24:7), a forewarning that the very ground beneath their feet would tremble as history turned its pages.

The first tremor struck at the most pivotal moment in history. As Jesus hung on the cross, breathing His final breaths, an unnatural darkness covered the land. Then, as He cried out and yielded His Spirit, the earth convulsed with a violent quake, tearing the temple curtain from top to bottom. The once-inaccessible Holy of Holies lay exposed, a sign of the old covenant ending and a new one beginning. Stones splintered, rocks cracked open, and in a scene as chilling as it wasmiraculous, tombs gave up their dead as some of Jerusalem's saints rose and appeared to many (Matthew 27:51-53). Even a seasoned centurion, a man accustomed to war's terrors, was shaken to his core. "Truly this was the Son of God!" he exclaimed, as he and his soldiers stood in stunned reverence, witnessing the earth respond to Christ's death (Matthew 27:54). All of this was the fulfillment of Jesus' words.

Three days later, a second earthquake rocked the landscape. As dawn broke, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary made their way to Jesus' tomb, their hearts heavy with grief. But as they arrived, the ground trembled beneath them more fiercely than before. An angel descended, rolling the massive stone away from the tomb entrance, his appearance like lightning and his clothing white as snow. The guards stationed at the tomb, trained and fearless Roman soldiers, were overwhelmed by terror. They collapsed, paralyzed in fear as the women stood watching, witnesses to the power that raised Christ from the dead (Matthew 28:2-4). This earthquake was a declaration: death had been conquered, and the stone that sealed the tomb could not withstand the resurrection of the Son of God.

The pattern of these earth-shaking events continued, following Jesus' prophecy that such signs would accompany the end of the Jewish age. Some years later, in the city of Philippi, Paul and Silas found themselves shackled in a dark prison cell. After being beaten by a mob, they sang hymns, their voices mingling with the quiet murmur of other prisoners. Then, at midnight, the ground began to shake. The tremor was so intense that the prison walls seemed to ripple. Chains snapped, and cell doors burst open, freeing every prisoner. Awakened by the quake, the jailer rushed in, fearing that his prisoners had escaped, but found them still there, waiting. Overcome, he fell before Paul and Silas, his heart moved to repentance and belief, and his household came to faith that night (Acts 16:25-34).

These quakes were not mere natural phenomena but divine markers, shaking the world as God's new covenant unfolded. Even beyond the biblical records, historians of the day recorded unusual seismic events. Josephus, a Jewish historian, described frequent earthquakes in Judea, which many took as ominous signs, as did the Roman historian Tacitus, who noted that earthquakes were unsettling regions across the empire.

These earthquakes signaled a shifting reality in a time and place where peace and stability reigned under Rome. As Jesus foretold, the signs were not abstract or distant—they were present, felt, and seen by His disciples. Each quake reverberated with divine purpose, grounding His prophecy in the physical world and underscoring His authority over heaven and earth.

THE EXTRA-BIBLICAL EVIDENCE

In the decades between Jesus’ crucifixion and the fall of Jerusalem, history also tells us of an unprecedented increase in earthquakes, tremors so frequent and intense that they seemed to cry out to the world with a vivid and unavoidable warning.For those living in Judea and across the Roman Empire, these tremors, storms, and disasters weren’t just inconveniences; they felt like messages from God, warnings of something bigger. And as historical records show, the years between Jesus’ crucifixion and the fall of Jerusalem were filled with such signs, so frequent and so intense that they seemed to fulfill the very prophecy Jesus had given in Matthew 24: “There will be earthquakes in various places.”

The New Testament mentions three significant earthquakes in this period, but it wasn’t just the biblical writers who noticed this increase in seismic activity. Across the empire, historians, philosophers, and even skeptics noted the rise of earthquakes, treating them as omens of something ominous. The extra-biblical evidence reveals a startling pattern that aligns eerily with Jesus’ words—signs of impending judgment that shook the entire known world.

Earthquakes Across the Empire: Historical Accounts

Between Jesus’ crucifixion and the fall of Jerusalem, earthquakes struck regions across the empire with shocking regularity. Places like Crete, Smyrna, Miletus, Chios, Samos, Laodicea, Hierapolis, Colossae, Campania, Rome, and Judea were all hit, some multiple times. Ancient cities that hadn’t experienced notable seismic activity in centuries suddenly found themselves collapsing under the weight of violent tremors.

One of the most famous of these earthquakes struck Pompeii in 63 A.D., nearly leveling the city and causing widespread panic. Pompeii would be famously destroyed in the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 A.D., but this earlier quake was so severe that it left the city in ruins for years. This was not an isolated incident—across the Mediterranean, tremors were leveling buildings and creating a climate of dread, especially in regions unaccustomed to such frequent earthquakes.

The devastation in cities like Laodicea, Hierapolis, and Colossae around 60 A.D. left lasting scars. Laodicea’s citizens famously rebuilt their city without relying on imperial aid, a testament to the wealth and resilience of the people, but also a sign of the widespread destruction. Earthquakes weren’t common in these areas before, but within a few decades, they had become a terrifyingly familiar presence.

Roman Writers on the Rise of Earthquakes

The ancient world didn’t just take note of these quakes; it was shaken by them—literally and psychologically. Several prominent Roman writers of the time mention this increase in earthquakes, describing them in ways that show a mix of fear, foreboding, and awe.

• Tacitus, a Roman historian, recorded that the year A.D. 50 alone was marked by “many prodigies, signs, or omens… including repeated earthquakes.” For Tacitus, who usually took a practical approach to historical events, these weren’t just natural disasters; they were omens, signs that something was deeply wrong in the empire.

• Pliny the Elder, in his Natural History, noted that earthquakes became “frequent and common” during this period, particularly in Asia Minor and around Italy. Pliny observed that the tremors in cities like Laodicea and Hierapolis led many to believe that these quakes were divine messages, warnings of impending catastrophe.

• Suetonius, in his biography of the emperors, mentions earthquakes, fires, and other natural disasters as omens marking the reigns of figures like Nero, Galba, and Vespasian. During Nero’s rule, earthquakes struck Rome itself, an unusual event that left the city and its people uneasy. Suetonius noted that these events contributed to the growing sense of dread surrounding Nero’s increasingly unstable reign.

Seneca’s Apocalyptic Writings

One of the most remarkable accounts comes from Seneca, the Stoic philosopher and tutor of Nero. Known for his stoic detachment, Seneca wrote about the earthquakes with a sense of dread that breaks from his usual restraint. In his Letters from a Stoic, Seneca laments the frequency and severity of these quakes, saying:

“How often have cities in Asia, how often in Achaia, been laid low by a single shock of earthquake! How many towns in Syria, how many in Macedonia, have been swallowed up! How often has this kind of destruction laid Cyprus in ruins? How often has Paphos collapsed? Not infrequently are tidings brought to us of the utter destruction of entire cities.”

For a Stoic, trained to avoid emotional reaction, Seneca’s language here is almost apocalyptic. He speaks of cities “swallowed up” and “laid low,” painting a picture of devastation that echoes the foreboding message of Jesus’ prophecy. Seneca, a man who believed in accepting the natural order, was shaken to his core by these unnatural events.

Josephus on the Quake in Judea

Jewish historian Josephus provides a haunting account of an earthquake that struck Judea near the outset of the Jewish-Roman War. This quake wasn’t just a tremor; it was a terrifying display of nature’s fury that many took as a sign of the divine judgment looming over Jerusalem. Josephus writes:

“For by night there broke out a most dreadful tempest, and violent, strong winds, with the most vehement showers, and continual lightning, and horrid thunderings, and prodigious bellowings of the shaken earth; so that it was manifest… that the constitution of the universe was confounded for the destruction of men; and any one might easily conjecture, that these things portended no common calamity.” (The Jewish War, Book IV, Chapter 4, Section 5)

Josephus saw this quake as a cosmic disturbance, a sign that the very fabric of the world was unraveling. To him, this earthquake was a harbinger of doom, a signal that Jerusalem was about to face an unparalleled disaster.

Cultural Atmosphere of Foreboding: Other Signs and Omens

The earthquakes weren’t the only signs. Across the empire, people were recording other strange phenomena—comets, stars, and unusual weather patterns. Josephus even describes a star resembling a sword hanging over Jerusalem, a comet blazing for a full year, and strange sights in the sky. The people of the first century were steeped in an atmosphere of supernatural expectation, watching the heavens and the earth, wondering if these events were marking the end of the age.

In Natural Questions, Seneca even questions whether the earth itself is nearing collapse, as if the planet is on the brink of some cosmic catastrophe. The Roman historian Cassius Dio recorded other prodigies and strange events in Rome, including a series of portents seen as judgments on the moral corruption of the empire. These strange occurrences added fuel to the fire, intensifying the belief that the empire was under divine judgment.

Charles Ellicott’s Reflections on this Time

Reflecting on this period, biblical scholar Charles Ellicott notes, “Perhaps no period in the world’s history has ever been so marked by these convulsions as that which intervenes between the Crucifixion of Christ and the destruction of Jerusalem.” The entire empire was shaken, and people across the known world felt that they were living in a unique and foreboding era.

A Kingdom Shaken, and Judgment Foretold

Taken together, these seismic disturbances, famines, strange sightings in the sky, and widespread social upheaval painted a picture that would have been unmistakable to those living at the time. Jesus’ prophecy wasn’t abstract—it was happening in real-time. Ancient writers, both Christian and non-Christian, noted the abnormal frequency and intensity of these earthquakes, and they interpreted them as divine warnings. The earth wasn’t just shaking; it was crying out, signaling the end of an era.

The New Testament writers captured this truth as well. The writer of Hebrews echoed this sentiment, saying, “Yet once more I will shake not only the earth but also the heavens.” The ground beneath their feet was unstable, kingdoms were crumbling, and all around them, the world seemed to be coming apart at the seams.

For those in the first century who were paying attention, it was clear: Jesus’ prophecy was unfolding with exacting precision. The earthquakes, the strange phenomena, the wars and rumors of wars—all of it confirmed His words. The signs weren’t just symbols; they were tangible, terrifying realities shaking the empire to its core.

So when we look back, let’s understand that these signs weren’t for a distant future; they were messages for the people living in that very moment, unmistakable in their intensity and relevance. And as the ground shook beneath them, it carried a clear, unambiguous message—the kingdom of man was fragile, and judgment was at hand.

SIGN 3: THE WITHERING OF THE LAND (FAMINES) 

As the earth trembled beneath them, it was clear that something ominous loomed over the first-century Roman world. But Jesus' prophecy didn't stop at earthquakes and wars. He had also foretold a series of famines, compounding the distress already gripping the region. Just as the ground had shaken with a warning, the land itself began to withhold its abundance, leading to widespread shortages that brought hunger and desperation. The witnesses of these events—whether they realized it or not—were seeing the fulfillment of Jesus' words play out as famine cast its shadow over the empire.

For a moment, let us look at the Biblical and extraBiblical evidence. 

BIBLICAL EVIDENCE

The New Testament gives us a compelling instance of famine prophesied and fulfilled within the early Church. The prophet Agabus, known for his prophetic gift, warned of an impending scarcity that would spread throughout the Roman Empire. Luke, a meticulous historian and companion of the apostles, records in Acts 11:28 that "one of them named Agabus stood up and began to indicate by the Spirit that there would certainly be a great famine all over the world. And this took place during the reign of Claudius." Agabus's warning, given under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, would soon be fulfilled, impacting the entire Roman Empire, or "world," as Luke describes it in the original Greek term oikumene. Here, oikoumene refers not to a global event but specifically to the boundaries of the Roman Empire—the known, civilized world of the time.

This famine struck during the reign of Emperor Claudius, whose rule from A.D. 41 to 54 coincides with historical records of a period marked by food shortages, crop failures, and the suffering that followed. The crisis hit Judea especially hard, leading the early Christian Church to take decisive action to support their needy brothers and sisters. The depth of the famine's impact on the Judean believers becomes clearer through several of Paul's letters, which highlight both the urgency of the situation and the Church's organized response. Paul, ever aware of the needs of his fellow believers, called upon various Gentile churches to contribute to the relief efforts for those suffering in Jerusalem. He urged the Corinthians to set aside resources to send to Judea, instructing them in his letter, "Now about the collection for the Lord's people… On the first day of every week, each one of you should set aside a sum of money" (1 Corinthians 16:1-2). To the Romans, he echoed this appeal, affirming his intention to bring aid from Macedonia and Achaia to those enduring hardships in Jerusalem (Romans 15:25-28).

Paul's exhortation to give was not without its challenges, but the response of the Macedonian churches shows the Spirit of sacrificial generosity that defined the early Church. Though they themselves were enduring hardships, the Macedonians gave out of their poverty, as Paul recounts in 2 Corinthians 8, showing a depth of care for their Judean brothers and sisters who were enduring the same difficulties prophesied by Agabus. Even in his letter to the Galatians, Paul recalls that the apostles encouraged him to "remember the poor," especially the poor believers in Jerusalem who were bearing the weight of the famine's effects.

The response to this famine fulfilled Jesus' prophetic warning about famine in Matthew 24 and demonstrated the early Church's commitment to Christian unity and compassion. Their organized effort in gathering resources and their proactive measures to ensure support for the Judean Church reveals how deeply they took to heart the prophetic signs of hardship. This collective response also served as a powerful witness to the faith, solidarity, and resilience of the early Christians, who rallied to fulfill the community's needs. In Luke's careful record, we see how the early Church acted as a living body of believers, ready to fulfill prophecy with both faith and action, as they gathered resources to support their fellow Christians across cultural and geographic boundaries.

Luke's account in Acts offers more than historical detail; it underscores the reliability of Jesus' prophecy in Matthew 24 and demonstrates the fulfillment of His words in the first century. With every hardship faced, from famine to persecution, the early Church responded with both preparedness and compassion. The famine under Claudius, though a time of great scarcity, became a moment for the Church to affirm the bonds of faith and to live out the truth that Jesus' prophetic words were indeed unfolding around them.

EXTRA-BIBLICAL EVIDENCE

The Rising Hunger of an Empire

As Jesus prophesied in Matthew 24, famine was one of the signs that would signal the end of the Jewish age. And history shows us that, in the years following His words, a brutal and unprecedented wave of famines swept across the Roman Empire, striking the heart of Judea and echoing His warning.

Early Famines Under Claudius

One of the first extra-biblical attestations of famine during this period comes from the Roman Emperor Claudius’s reign, a time when food shortages reached crisis levels across the empire. The Jewish historian Josephus provides an early account of this famine in Judea in the late 40s A.D., where he reports widespread starvation:

“There was a famine in the land that overtook them, and many people died of starvation.”
— Antiquities of the Jews, Book 20, Chapter 2, Section 5

Josephus paints a picture of deep suffering in Judea, with men, women, and children dying from hunger in numbers that the people had never seen before. This was the famine prophesied by Agabus in Acts 11, a prophetic warning that would soon be fulfilled in devastating fashion.

The Roman historian Suetonius reinforces this, describing the dire conditions under Claudius in stark terms:

“There was a scarcity of food, which was the result of bad harvests that occurred during a span of several years.”
— The Twelve Caesars, Claudius 18

Suetonius highlights repeated years of poor harvests, a prolonged period of agricultural and economic hardship that led to soaring food prices and rationing. In Rome itself, food shortages became so extreme that grain distribution had to be carefully controlled, and rioting broke out in the streets.

Biblical scholar James Stuart Russell elaborates, noting that under Claudius’s rule, there were four major seasons of scarcity that hit the empire:

“During the reign of Emperor Claudius (A.D. 41-54), there were four seasons of great scarcity. In the fourth year of his reign, the famine in Judea was so severe that the price of food became enormous, and great numbers perished.”
— The Parousia, Russell 59

Russell’s account underscores both the duration and intensity of this famine that drove food prices to extreme levels, leading to the starvation of many, especially in Judea.

Tacitus on Rome’s Impending Crisis

As the years progressed, the situation grew even bleaker. By the year 51 A.D., Tacitus, another Roman historian, described the worsening conditions, noting the connection between natural disasters and food scarcity:

“This year witnesses many prodigies [bad omens and signs] including repeated earthquakes… and the shortage of corn, resulting in famine… it was established that there was no more than 15 days’ supply of food in the city [of Rome]… Only heaven’s special favor and a mild winter prevented our catastrophe.”
— The Annals 12.43

Tacitus’s words reveal the precarious state of Rome itself. The city’s food stock fell to dangerously low levels, with only a few days’ supply left. This kind of scarcity was unthinkable in Rome, the heart of the empire, which was accustomed to abundant provisions from far-flung territories. Now, even the empire’s capital faced starvation. His reference to “prodigies” indicates that the people saw these events as ominous signs—a dark omen hanging over the Roman world.

The Siege of Jerusalem: Famine and Desperation

As if famine on an empire-wide scale wasn’t enough, the suffering reached its tragic climax in Jerusalem itself during the brutal Roman siege in A.D. 68. When the Roman forces encircled the city, they effectively cut off all food and water supplies, creating a hellish scenario for those trapped inside. What unfolded within Jerusalem’s walls defies belief.

Josephus offers one of the most chilling accounts of the famine’s effects on the city’s residents. Desperate for survival, Jerusalem’s people turned against each other, with factions fighting for dwindling resources. In a catastrophic display of self-sabotage, warring groups of Jews destroyed their own food reserves and poisoned the city’s water supply, believing they could weaken each other’s chances in the power struggle. Josephus writes:

“Then did the famine widen its progress and devoured the people by whole houses and families; the upper rooms were full of women and children that were dying by famine, and the lanes of the city were full of the dead bodies of the aged; the children also and the young men wandered about the marketplaces like shadows, all swelled with the famine, and fell down dead wheresoever their misery seized them.”
— The Jewish War 5.12.3

This isn’t just a historical footnote—it’s a horrific snapshot of a city in the grip of absolute despair. Streets once bustling with life became avenues of death. Women, children, and the elderly perished together, their bodies strewn across the city as the famine claimed one life after another. Children, gaunt and starving, wandered through marketplaces, collapsing in the streets as hunger tightened its relentless grip. The scenes Josephus describes were beyond the ordinary suffering of wartime; they were scenes of a people devoured from within.

The famine became so severe that Tacitus also noted it in his histories, connecting it with the general sense of doom that had settled over the empire. He viewed the famine as one of many “prodigies” that foreshadowed catastrophe.

A Pattern of Scarcity and Signs of Doom

These events were not isolated. Across the empire, other historians recorded repeated famines and shortages, a widespread drought that stretched from Rome to Judea. People across the Mediterranean experienced empty granaries, failed crops, and hungry children, and they understood these events not as mere economic hardships but as signs that an era was ending.

In the philosophical writings of Seneca, another glimpse of this grim period appears. He frequently referred to the fragility of the world, noting that people were deeply disturbed by the repeated cycles of famine and scarcity. Like Tacitus, he saw these events as cosmic signs, further fueling the belief that something monumental was unfolding.

The Fulfillment of Prophecy

As we pull back and look at this broader picture, it’s clear that these famines were no mere historical hardships; they were the low rumbles before a gathering storm, every failed harvest and empty granary a signal that the age of Jerusalem was drawing to a close. These famines weren’t just local disasters; they reverberated across the empire, from Judea to Rome, creating a tapestry of suffering that pointed unmistakably to Jesus’ prophetic words.

So, as we’ve seen through the lens of history, Jesus’ prophecy wasn’t an abstract warning for a far-off generation—it was a direct, timely message for His followers in the first century. The signs of wars, earthquakes, and famines weren’t distant symbols but tangible, devastating realities that shaped their lives and confirmed their faith. Each of these signs was a thread in a dark tapestry, woven together in a way that made it unmistakably clear that judgment was near.

The suffering and starvation that gripped Jerusalem during the siege was one of the final, terrible markers of an age’s end—a sign that the old covenant was giving way, and that the world as they knew it would never be the same. The prophetic words of Jesus in Matthew 24 weren’t left unfulfilled; they resonated in the very lives and deaths of those who witnessed them. And for us today, they stand as a testament to the precision and truth of His words, echoing across time as a reminder of a God who sees, who speaks, and whose words do not return void.

CONCLUSION

As we wrap up today, it has become abundantly clear that the glove the futurists, premillennials, and dispensationals have told us to wear does not fit. Jesus predicts a unique period of forty years that will increase in intensity like a pregnancy. That period is perfectly mirrored with the Old Testament and tells the story of God's divorce of Judah and the birth of the new baby queen, the Church. And like a pregnancy, the painful toil would continue to increase as the event drew near, which is precisely what we have seen today! After a period of false messiahs and antichrists in the 30s and 40s, there were increasing signs like wars, famines, and earthquakes, which were shaking the entire Roman world, making everyone uneasy, and causing even the pagan philosophers to quiver in expectation of divine judgment. And as we have seen today, the wars Jesus is referring to, the earthquakes, and famines (like the false messiahs and antichrists) are not future realities that will overtake the Church, but were things that have already happened leading up to the birth of the Church. That point has been demonstrated thoroughly and conclusively, which is why it is now time for us to draw this episode to a close. 

I know these episodes have been long, but there is so much detail in them and I do not want you to miss any of it. Next week, we will discuss a few more signs proving Jerusalem's fall was coming in the first century before we get to tribulations and apostacies the week after that and the great tribulation the week after that. So, stay tuned for all that exciting material, which is coming. But, until then, do not live in panic over what is happening in our world. Do not let the state of our nation or the nations get you sidetracked from what God is doing. He has called you to fight, He has called you to take dominion, He has called you to conquest and plunder the nations, until all the nations have bowed the knee to Jesus. Then, and only then, will Jesus return. Not to rescue us from our mission but to receive us joyfully when we have finished our mission. So with that, go and work, go and serve, and go and build your King's Kingdom in your home, in your work, and in your world.