Let’s get something out of the way: The Book of Revelation was written about the Roman Empire in the first century. It’s not about America, the U.N., or any other modern agency or government. Sorry, but contrary to what doofuses like Tim LaHaye and Kirk Cameron say, it was John’s searing indictment of a then-current empire drunk on blood—an empire that conquered, devoured, and then demanded to be worshiped for it.

But goddamn if the shoe doesn’t fit.

Because today, we are Rome. Or maybe we’re worse.

We are the beast that devours others and calls it democracy. We are the merchants of death who baptize our bombs in freedom-tinged holy water and sell them to the highest bidder. We are the harlot who slides into bed with tyrants, swallows lies for profit, and dares to call it “national security.” Gaza burns. Children starve. Parents claw through rubble looking for what’s left of their families. And we send more money and resources (just not to them).

Instead…

We send more weapons. We block ceasefires. We veto peace. We dare say we care about human rights with one hand on the Bible and the other on the shoulder of a soldier about to press the drone-strike button.

This isn’t about left versus right. Red versus blue. It’s about an entire nation—’Merica—that has blood on its hands and the audacity to believe God is on our side (Bob Dylan called it out years go, or don’t you remember?)

But Jesus said this: “Whatever you did not do for the least of these, you did not do for me.”

And that wasn’t a throwaway line. That wasn’t Hallmark-card Jesus trying to look cute on a church billboard. That was the apocalyptic Jesus, the Jesus of woe and warning, the Jesus who flipped tables, rebuked the religious elite, and declared that those who hoard wealth and turn away from the oppressed are goats destined for destruction.

And look, maybe you don’t believe in hell. As a Universalist of sorts, I’m not sure I do either. But if it’s coming, it’s coming for the empire and all those who stand ten toes down alongside it. It’s coming for those who pass by on the other side of the road while a whole people is crucified in real time. It’s coming for those who could have done something and chose comfort. It’s coming for those who “stand with” power, not with peace. With dominance, not deliverance. With empire, not the lamb.

The Book of Revelation—though aimed at Caesar and Rome—screams out across time to every nation that traffics in death and calls it divine glory. It warns of the dragon’s jaws and Babylon’s seductions, and we should be trembling, not boasting.

Because we are not God’s chosen people. We are the ones with the sword who shed innocent blood while shrugging our apathy-drenched shoulders. And if we don’t repent—if we don’t change course immediately—then the hell we’ve made for others will come home to roost.

And while hell may not be eternal, it sure is hot. Prepare accordingly.