Prophecy on the Edge of Time

“As it was in the days of Noah, so it will be at the coming of the Son of Man.” — Matthew 24:37 (NIV)

Jesus’ words in Matthew 24:37 are not merely a comparison—they are a prophetic window. To understand the days we are living in, we must look back to Noah’s time. According to the genealogies in Genesis 5, Noah began constructing the ark at age 500, and the flood came when he was 600. This places the global flood exactly 1,656 years after the fall of Adam.

(See detailed chronology at www.FullBibleTimeline.com)

But what were “the days of Noah”? Were they only the years leading up to the flood—those dark, cynical days of unchecked corruption and violence? Or did they also include the 350 years after the flood, when Noah walked the earth as a patriarch and mentor to generations, including Abram?

According to Jewish tradition, Noah and Shem played a direct role in Abram’s early life. Imagine the scene: Abram, a young boy, raised in the house of Noah—the man who walked with God, who built an ark with trembling hands, and who lived to see a world reborn. Noah became a living bridge between the old world and the new—a prophetic father to a generation tasked with rebuilding everything.

In a world obsessed with endings, Noah reminds us that prophecy often points not only to what is ending—but to what is beginning.

“We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be.”— C.S. Lewis

We often focus on the cataclysm—the rain, the rising waters, the loss. But what of the new world on the other side? What of the responsibility to start again, to live differently, to govern a fresh world under God’s guidance?

I sometimes imagine Noah preaching. What did he say? Was he a fire-and-brimstone prophet, warning of wrath and judgment? Or was he a preacher of mercy, proclaiming a way of escape—a “Love Boat” built by divine instruction?

Either way, his message was clear: “It’s time to prepare. A change is coming. A door is being opened.”

“The task of the modern educator is not to cut down jungles but to irrigate deserts.”— C.S. Lewis

Likewise, the task of the modern prophet is not only to expose wickedness but to cultivate vision. Noah was preparing a generation—not just to survive judgment, but to thrive afterward. The ark wasn’t just a vessel of survival. It was a womb of destiny.

Noah stood on the edge of time. The atmosphere around him was heavy with prophecy. His grandfather Methuselah—whose very name meant, “When he dies, judgment”—still walked the earth. And in God's mercy, Methuselah lived 969 years, giving the world the longest reprieve possible.

Noah “walked with God,” as Enoch had before him, as Adam had in the garden. He knew the voice of God. He heard God speak of rain—something the world had never seen—and he believed. For one hundred years, he preached about something unimaginable. This was prophecy in action: seeing what others could not yet see, and building according to Heaven’s blueprint.

“Faith is to believe what you do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what you believe.”— St. Augustine

Don’t you think Noah imagined what life would be like after the rain? He and his wife must have had countless conversations about rebuilding—about crops, homes, families, and a new kind of society. They weren’t just preparing for a flood; they were preparing for a future.

And so must we.

Noah lived in a generation where judgment came suddenly. But he also lived beyond the judgment—into the promise. He teaches us that prophecy is not just about surviving crisis. It’s about preparing for what comes after. A remade world. A new order. A fresh beginning rooted in obedience to God.

Noah was born 1,056 years after Adam’s exile from Eden. Adam had only died 126 years prior. Seth had passed just 14 years before Noah’s birth. These were not far-off legends to him—they were relatives, patriarchs, mentors. He knew the stories of Eden firsthand. He understood what it meant to walk with God. He lived among men who still carried the weight and wisdom of those early days.

So yes, the days of Noah were days of judgment—but they were also days of inheritance. Days of passing down sacred knowledge. Days of building what had never been built before.

We are living in our own “days of Noah.” And just like Noah, we stand on the edge of time—called not just to warn, but to build. Not just to cry out, but to walk with God.

"By faith Enoch was taken from this life, so that he did not experience death: 'He could not be found, because God had taken him away.' For before he was taken, he was commended as one who pleased God."— Hebrews 11:5 (NIV)

Noah knew God. Deeply. Personally. Intimately.

It always makes me smile when I watch movie portrayals of Noah and the flood. Inevitably, the actor playing Noah reacts to God’s voice with terror and wide-eyed shock—like it was the very first time he'd ever heard from Heaven.Hardly.

Noah’s great-grandfather, Enoch, also walked with God. Scripture says plainly:

"Enoch walked faithfully with God; then he was no more, because God took him away" (Genesis 5:24).

There wasn’t even a funeral. Enoch simply stepped out of this life into the next, wrapped in God’s friendship.

This heritage of walking with God was passed down through the generations. Noah didn’t just stumble into faith; he inherited a living tradition. He knew the voice that called him to build the ark because it was the same voice that had guided his fathers.

Why does it matter that Noah understood what it was like to be the "first man"? Because after the flood, he essentially was the first man again—stepping out onto a cleansed earth, with the heavy responsibility of beginning anew.

Imagine it: After almost a full year confined to the ark, Noah opened the door and walked out into silence. No neighbor’s arguments. No dogs barking. Just a quiet, waiting earth. Noah had spent a hundred years preaching about this moment. Night after night, as he laid his head down to sleep, his mind must have raced with visions of what was to come: the landscapes, the civilizations, the life he and his family would build.

"Isn't it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back, everything is different?"— C.S. Lewis

Noah stood on one side of an event—the flood—that would forever change the world. It was a pivot in human history so profound that even today, remnants of it linger in the soil beneath our feet, in the oral traditions of ancient tribes, and in the collective memory of humanity.

Prophecy flows through time like a river—winding through world-shifting events, yet never losing its source.

And here is the breathtaking truth: We see this pattern repeat again and again in Scripture.

Remember Simeon and Anna from Luke 2? Both of them waited—long and faithfully—for the fulfillment of prophecy. Like Noah awaiting the flood and the new world, Simeon and Anna lived through their own "tribulation event": Roman occupation. Yet Simeon had heard the promise:

"You will not die before you see the Messiah." (Luke 2:26)

"Faith is the art of holding on to things your reason has once accepted, in spite of your changing moods."— C.S. Lewis

Was it a booming voice from heaven that assured Simeon? We don’t know. Just as we don’t know if Noah heard thunderous declarations or the quiet whisper of the Spirit. But what matters is this: they waited. Through years of silence—over 400 years without prophetic utterance in Israel—Simeon and Anna kept hoping. Trusting. Watching.

And then, quietly but world-shatteringly, Jesus was born.

That moment changed history. Calendars were reset. Empires would eventually crumble. The Old Covenant would close, and the New Covenant—the Age of Grace—would begin, marked forever by the Cross.

Simeon took the infant Messiah into his arms and prophesied once more, speaking of the glory that would flow not just through Christ’s life, but beyond His death and resurrection into a world reborn by grace.

“He will be a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and the glory of your people Israel.”— Luke 2:32 (NIV)

Prophecy is seamless. It does not fit neatly into our human calendars. It is living, moving, breathing—the very Word of God moving across time.

Noah prophesied about a new earth emerging from judgment.Jesus prophesied about a new Kingdom, filled with miracles, mercy, and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit—just as Joel had foretold: "I will pour out my Spirit on all people." (Joel 2:28)

Prophecies do not end at the moment of fulfillment. They ripple forward, shaping everything beyond the event itself.

The disciples, too, faced their "tribulation event"—the crucifixion. They had left everything to follow Jesus, the rabbi from Nazareth. They had witnessed the miraculous: healings, resurrections, the Kingdom breaking into their everyday lives. And yet, standing at the foot of the cross, they must have felt as if the world itself was ending. Dreams shattered. Hopes buried.

"Courage, dear heart."— C.S. Lewis (The Voyage of the Dawn Treader)

What they didn’t yet see was that the words spoken over their lives were still alive. The dreams were not dead. God was not finished.

Though they returned briefly to their fishing nets, as if the story had ended, the resurrection would call them forward into a new world they could scarcely imagine—a world ablaze with the Spirit of God, the Gospel bursting across continents.

The pattern remains: prophecy, fulfillment, rebirth. A river flowing from Eden to eternity.

And you, too, are part of that river.

The Cross marked the dividing line between two ages — just as the Flood once divided the earth between what was and what would be. Prophetic words, like seeds scattered upon the waters, continue to live and breathe in the atmosphere, awaiting their appointed time to blossom within hearts prepared to receive them.

And so I ask you: What time is it?

Where do you see yourself living in this great timeline of God?

It wasn’t that long ago that Israel was reborn in a single day — and the nations were forced to redraw their maps. In our very lifetimes, prophecies have been and are still unfolding before our eyes. Even as I write, a 500-foot statue — the largest man has ever built — is under construction in India. Within it, 100,000 deities will be housed. Its builders claim it will stand for a thousand years and usher in a so-called "millennium of peace."

Curiously, it is being erected in a high mountain village where the temperature swings so dramatically between day and night that the bronze panels had to be engineered to expand and contract six inches every eight days — causing the statue to appear as though it is breathing. The British contractors have even guaranteed it will endure for a millennium.

Does this not sound strangely familiar? Like something torn straight from the pages of Revelation? It should.

Meanwhile, all around us, the systems of this present world are trembling. Economies are collapsing. Nations are bankrupt. Kingdoms are rising against kingdoms. Radical factions, armed and emboldened, overthrow governments. The spirit of Antichrist is working to spread antisemitism once again. The Muslim Mahdi has announced his arrival, heralding the soon arrival of their Jesus character - We know as the Anti-Christ.

And within the Body of Christ, we hear great and precious prophetic words: Kingdom living. Wealth transfer. A new outpouring. But are we considering that many of these words may stretch beyond our current age — into the age to come?

It is critical that the Church learns the principles of the Kingdom now — because we are being trained not just for survival, but for leadership. God is raising up Daniels in the midst of this present empire. Ambassadors who can walk by faith, administer justice, steward wealth, and operate in the governance of His coming Kingdom.

Personally, I believe we are close to dramatic and world-shifting events. As I watch the economic collapse of global systems, the rise of centralized militaries, and the merging of corporate powers reaching across every sphere of life, I can’t help but ask: How much time is left?

Perhaps you feel it too — that stirring in your spirit, that sense of anticipation in the Body.

Is that wedding music we hear in the distance?

And yet, (picture this scene) even today, somewhere in the world, a young man stands at an altar — freshly saved, tears streaming down his face — as a wrinkled old minister lays hands on him and prophesies his future, perhaps a calling to Africa.

Elsewhere, a young woman leading worship is suddenly filled with the Spirit and proclaims a word over her church: a vision to build families and businesses that will transform a city.

And then — the trumpet sounds. The rapture. The call to rise.

Wait, Lord — what about these prophecies? What about the dreams You planted?

Do all prophecies simply go on pause when the Bride is caught up? No, beloved. Time itself did not stop at the Cross — and it will not stop at the Rapture.

Life went on after Golgotha. People went home to eat dinner. The sun rose the next morning. Yet fifty days later, Pentecost shook the world, and a new creation was born. (2 Corinthians 5:17).

In the same way, after the Church is caught up and glorified, a new season will begin. We will be changed in the twinkling of an eye, yes — but we will remain who we are, uniquely formed and passionately filled with the dreams God has placed within us.

We stand at the edge of time — the closing of one age, and the opening of another. The Millennium is not a fantasy; it is a real and appointed season in which the Church — now Wife, not Bride — will rule and reign with Christ under His government, His economy, His health, His justice. (Please take a moment to read: The Zombie Bride)

Many of the prophetic words you hear today are not just for the now — they are being seeded into your spirit for the age to come.

Prophetic voices like Johnny Enlow have spoken of the Seven Mountains: Government, Media, Education, Economy, Celebration (Arts & Entertainment), Religion, and Family. The Church will take these mountains — not by worldly methods, but by Kingdom authority. Will it happen all before the Lord’s return? I believe we will see great foretaste — but much will unfold fully in the Millennium.

We must stop thinking like an engaged Bride obsessed only with the wedding day — and start thinking like a Wife prepared to govern a Kingdom.

Imagine if you were engaged to a prince. Your days would be filled not merely with dreams of dresses and cakes, but with serious training: how to speak, how to walk, how to rule. So it must be with us. The engagement season is training time.

The rapture is not the end. It is merely the doorway into the beginning of our eternal assignment.

As Jesus taught in His parable of the talents (Matthew 25:14–30), those who were faithful with little were entrusted with cities.And so it shall be with us.

The Millennium — a thousand years of ministry, justice, worship, rebuilding, and reigning — is ahead. Think of it: there are more prophecies in Scripture about the Millennium than about any other single subject.

If you had lived in the days of Simeon, seeing the Christ-child, would you not have dropped everything to be part of His unfolding story? So too now. This generation stands on the cusp of history.

The Kingdom call is not temporal — it is eternal. You are eternal. The dreams and callings God placed within you are not just for this age but for the next.

He will not look at you on that day and wonder, "What shall we do with you now?" No — He knows exactly what He has birthed inside you.

Many who come through the tribulation will need shepherds, teachers, worshippers, builders, leaders — co-regents of Christ’s new world. The music, the ministries, the dreams birthed in your spirit are not in vain. They are preparation.

Like Noah, who spent a hundred years building, learning, and preparing — not just for survival, but for dominion in a new world — so must we.

Like the disciples, trained for three years by Jesus Himself, only to be launched after the shaking of the cross, so are we being equipped now.

A new world is coming.

The Bride will become the Wife.

And the Kingdom will be established on earth.

In Matthew 25, Jesus warns His followers: Keep watch. Not just to have oil in our lamps — but to stand outside, alert, ready to sound the alarm.

Today, we stand on the edge of time. One world slipping away behind us. A new age of Christ’s Kingdom breaking forth ahead of us.

The prophetic words spoken over your life — the dreams burning in your heart — are not fleeting hopes. They are seeds planted for eternity.

God is equipping His Church — His Bride — not just for survival, but for government. For healing. For reigning.

We are not called to sit on clouds sipping lemonade. We are called to rule and reign with Him.

The time is short. The Spirit is moving. The Bride is awakening.

Are you ready? Are you watching? Are you listening?

There is much to do — and time is wasting. So rise up, O Bride of Christ. Hike up your dress. Roll up your sleeves.

The King is coming. And you were born for such a time as this.