Living Backwards

The Scandalous Already and the Stubborn Not-Yet
To truly grasp the radical idea of living backwards, we must begin not with our feelings, preferences, or cultural assumptions but with the story Scripture tells. It recounts a story that is neither linear, as modernity imagines—an endless chain of progress—nor circular, like the philosophies of recurrence and fate. Instead, it describes a world made good, broken by rebellion, redeemed through covenant, and ultimately restored by God's faithfulness revealed in Jesus the Messiah. This is not a story about fleeing the world but about rescuing it through divine faithfulness.
At the heart of that story is a paradox, one that lies at the core of New Testament faith: the kingdom of God has already arrived, yet it still awaits fulfillment. When pressed by the Pharisees about when the kingdom would come, Jesus said, “The kingdom of God is not coming in ways that can be observed… behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you” (Luke 17:20–21). At the same time, he instructed his followers to pray, “Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” (Matt. 6:10). This dual truth—that the kingdom is present and still to come—is not a contradiction but a mystery that underpins Christian life.
This is precisely where much modern Christian discussion falls short. On one side, we see versions of the gospel that overspiritualize the kingdom, turning it into a personal moral state or a therapeutic experience. The kingdom, in this perspective, is just inner peace or private holiness. It becomes a symbol of good feelings and clean living, detached from the social, political, and physical realities that Jesus frequently addressed. This version is comfortable, simple to handle—and ultimately unbiblical.
On the other hand, some eschatologies push the kingdom so far into the future that it loses relevance for the present. The world is seen as a sinking ship, the Church as a life raft, and salvation as an individual escape plan. In such views, discipleship becomes about moral vigilance or doctrinal purity, and God's mission is overshadowed by concerns about the end times. But again, this is not the vision Jesus taught. He did not preach a gospel of escape, but one of transformation.
Living backwards means rejecting distortions. It involves believing that the new world has already begun through the resurrection of Jesus and that, by the Spirit, this new creation is already taking root here and now. The resurrection isn't just evidence of life after death; it's the starting point of new creation. It signifies that the future God has promised has already entered the present. As Paul states, Christ is “the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep” (1 Cor. 15:20), and the Spirit given to us is the “down payment” or “first installment” of the full inheritance to come (Eph. 1:13–14).
This framework—the “already and not yet”—is more than just an academic idea; it is the foundation from which the Christian life develops. Without it, we cannot grasp the urgency and patience of Paul’s ministry, the intense joy of the early martyrs, or the perseverance of those living today under the shadow of persecution. It clarifies why we mourn and celebrate, why we work and wait, why we stand against injustice and proclaim hope. The world is not yet as it should be—but it is no longer as it once was. We live in the tension of the emerging light.
But such living requires imagination—not the kind of escape, but the faithful kind. We need to learn to see the world not just as it looks, but as it truly is and will be under Christ’s rule. That’s why Paul encourages the Colossians to “set your minds on things above, not on earthly things” (Col. 3:2)—not to disconnect from the world, but to view it from the perspective of the risen Messiah. Only when we learn to see history, culture, and our daily lives through the lens of the gospel do we start to live according to the age to come.
This also requires us to find the courage to live differently. Living backwards isn't just about new thinking; it involves new habits. It means rejecting the logic of retribution in favor of forgiveness. It means exchanging the gods of accumulation for practices of generosity. It involves living with a joy that isn't dependent on circumstances and holding onto a hope that remains stubborn despite cynicism. These paths aren't easy— but they are the paths followed by Jesus, and now by those who bear his name.
The early Christians understood this clearly. They didn’t just add Jesus to their existing worldview; they centered their entire lives around him. They gathered to retell the story of redemption, to break bread as a symbol of the kingdom’s feast, to share their resources as a sign of God’s provision, and to carry each other’s burdens as a reflection of the coming reconciliation. They didn’t always get it right, but they lived as if the resurrection truly changed everything. In doing so, they turned the world upside down (Acts 17:6).
This is the calling that still lies before us. We are not waiting for the kingdom to begin; we are called to participate in its unfolding. Every act of justice, every word of truth, every gesture of kindness, every song of praise—these are the bricks in the foundation of a world being reborn. The Church is not just a witness to the resurrection; it is a place of resurrection, a sign of what is to come.
And this is why the Church must resist the pull to conform to the age. We are not marketers of religious goods, nor performers on a stage of secular approval. We are citizens of the kingdom, and our lives should reflect that citizenship—not through triumphalism, but through fidelity. Not by shouting louder, but by loving deeper. Not by withdrawing in fear, but by engaging with hope. The future we proclaim is not an escape hatch but a promise of renewal. And the world, however broken, is still the object of that promise.
Living backwards, then, is not just a metaphor. It is a daily discipline, a spiritual orientation, a theological stance. It involves refusing to be defined by what is fading and committing to live as if what is eternal is already among us—because, in Christ, it is.