Left Behind… With the Dishes

Still here? Me too. Let’s talk about why we keep waiting for rescue that never comes - and what happens when we finally stop outsourcing our power.

When I was a kid, I lived in quiet terror of the Rapture. My mum and dad would quote verses about it - “one will be taken, the other left.” I’d lie awake at night wondering if I’d be the one left behind, standing in an empty house while everyone else floated skyward. It was a childhood shaped not by monsters under the bed, but by the threat of vanishing loved ones.

Fast forward a few decades and… well. If you’re reading this, then the Rapture TikTok promised us for 23–24 September didn’t exactly pan out. You’re still here. I’m still here. And the postman is still delivering bills.

Here’s the thing: Rapture predictions are like bad sequels - they just keep coming back. The dates change, the preachers swap pulpits for TikTok lives, but the storyline never dies: the end is near, any day now, get ready.

But let’s be blunt: nobody is riding in on a cloud to save us. Outsourcing our power to a cosmic rescue mission keeps us passive, waiting for life to happen to us instead of through us. It’s comforting in theory - “don’t worry, you’ll be lifted out of the chaos” - but it also robs us of agency. While we’re scanning the heavens, we forget we’re the ones meant to do the saving here: of ourselves, of each other, of this fragile planet.

And maybe that’s why these predictions are so sticky. They’re dramatic. They’re emotional. They give a neat, high-stakes story when life feels messy and uncertain. But they also keep us hooked on fear, waiting for deliverance instead of stepping into our own authority.

So no, the Rapture didn’t happen this week. But here’s what can happen: you stop waiting to be rescued, and start realising you’ve had the power all along. Not the kind of power that whisks you away into the clouds - the kind that grounds you right here, in your messy, beautiful, human life.

Because the real apocalypse isn’t missing out on a divine elevator ride. It’s living your one wild life on autopilot, waiting for someone else to change it for you.

Ready to stop waiting for someone to ride in and save you? Let’s talk.