The Book of Revelation has always been a draw to me. After leaving Shepherd's Chapel for years I wrestled with its meaning, flipping through different interpretations, until I stumbled across Partial Preterism. This view, especially when seen through the lens of New Covenant Theology, clicked for me in a way others hadn’t. It’s not just about decoding symbols—it’s about understanding a massive shift in God’s story, from the Old Covenant to the New, sealed by the fall of Jerusalem in AD 70. Let me walk you through why the “soon” and “near” passages in Revelation grabbed my heart and convinced me this perspective holds water.
The “Soon” and “Near” Passages That Changed My Mind
When I first read Revelation, phrases like “soon” and “near” jumped off the page. They’re everywhere, like a drumbeat urging the reader to pay attention now. In Greek, these words—“tachos” for “soon” and “eggus” for “near”—carry a sense of urgency, like something’s about to happen any minute. Here are a few verses that hit me hard:
Revelation 1:1 – “The revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave him to show his servants what must soon take place.”
Revelation 1:3 – “Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear it and take to heart what is written in it, because the time is near.”
Revelation 22:6 – “The Lord… sent his angel to show his servants the things that must soon take place.”
Revelation 22:10 – “Do not seal up the words of the prophecy of this scroll, because the time is near.”
As I dug into Partial Preterism, I realized these words weren’t vague or stretchable. They meant something real to the first-century Christians reading them—people facing persecution from both Jewish leaders and Roman rulers. To them, “soon” didn’t mean thousands of years away. It meant their lifetime. That realization made me see Revelation as a letter of hope for real people in a real crisis, not a far-off prediction for a distant future.
A History That Felt Alive
Learning the historical context of Revelation was like putting on glasses for the first time. Suddenly, everything was clearer. Most scholars believe John wrote Revelation around AD 65–68, just before Jerusalem fell to the Romans in AD 70. This was a brutal time for Christians, caught between Jewish hostility and Roman oppression. Jesus had already warned about Jerusalem’s coming judgment in His Olivet Discourse (Matthew 24, Mark 13, Luke 21), and I started to see Revelation echoing that warning.
Take Revelation 11:1–2, where the temple is measured but the holy city is trampled for forty-two months. That timeframe lines up eerily well with the Roman siege from AD 66 to 70. Or consider the “beast” in Revelation 13—many Partial Preterists link it to Nero’s Rome, and the historical fit is striking. These connections made me feel like I was reading a firsthand account of God’s justice unfolding, comforting those early believers that their suffering wasn’t in vain.
The Old Covenant’s End, the New Covenant’s Dawn
What really sealed the deal for me was seeing Revelation as a story of transition—a divine hand turning the page from the Old Covenant to the New. New Covenant Theology helped me understand that the Old Covenant, with its temple, priests, and sacrifices, was a temporary shadow pointing to Jesus. When Christ died and rose, He fulfilled it all, making the old system obsolete (Hebrews 8:13). Revelation, to me, is the dramatic finale of that shift.
The fall of Jerusalem in AD 70 felt like God’s signature on the end of the Old Covenant. The temple was gone, the sacrifices stopped, and the old way of relating to God was impossible to sustain. Revelation 18, with “Babylon” (which I see as apostate Jerusalem) crashing down, captures that moment vividly. The “harlot” imagery in Revelation 17, echoing Old Testament warnings against unfaithful Israel, drove home the idea that Jerusalem faced judgment for rejecting Jesus.
But Revelation isn’t just about judgment—it’s about hope. The New Jerusalem in chapters 21–22 stole my breath. It’s not a literal city but the church, Christ’s bride, living in the fullness of the New Covenant. There’s no temple because God and the Lamb are the temple (Revelation 21:22). That image of direct, unmediated access to God, open to all people, not just one nation, felt like the gospel coming alive. The “soon” and “near” passages, then, aren’t just about destruction—they’re about the New Covenant taking root right then and there.
Facing the Pushback
Not everyone buys this view, and I’ve had my share of debates. Some say the “soon” and “near” passages point to Christ’s Second Coming, still future. But I struggle with that—it feels unfair to the original readers, who were told to expect something imminent. Partial Preterists like me see Christ’s “coming” in Revelation as a judgment visitation, like God riding in to settle scores (think Isaiah 19:1), not His final return. The Second Coming is there, in Revelation 20:11–15, but it’s separate from the first-century events.
Others argue Partial Preterism shrinks Revelation’s cosmic scope. With all those stars falling and heavens shaking, isn’t it about the end of the world? But I learned that apocalyptic language in the Old Testament—like Isaiah 13:10 or Ezekiel 32:7—often described local judgments with big, poetic imagery. For me, Revelation’s symbols fit the massive spiritual shift of AD 70, not a literal cosmic collapse. The end of the Old Covenant was earth-shaking enough to deserve that kind of language.
Why This Matters to Me
This journey through Revelation has changed how I read the Bible. The Partial Preterist lens, with its focus on the “soon” and “near” passages, feels honest to the text and its first readers. It’s not about forcing modern headlines into prophecy but about hearing God’s voice to a specific people at a specific time. And through New Covenant Theology, I see Revelation as a love letter to the church, showing how Christ’s victory reshaped history. The Old Covenant’s fall and the New Covenant’s rise aren’t just ancient events—they’re the foundation of my faith, reminding me that Jesus is King, then and now.