TikTok’s Rapture Frenzy: Selling Cars, Quitting Jobs, and Waiting for the End

Something’s going viral and it’s not just my new soup recipe. It’s this whole TikTok frenzy about the “rapture”—people selling cars, quitting jobs, and even unlocking their phones for those left behind, all because a pastor declared that September 23–24, 2025, would mark the return of Jesus. If you’re me—chronically ill, a novelist-in-the-making, pet parent—it’s hard not to get pulled into the swirl of fear, faith, and incredulity. So I dove in.

Here’s what I found: this prophecy started with a South African pastor named Joshua Mhlakela, who claimed he had a vision of Jesus’ return around Rosh Hashanah. The prophecy ended up on a podcast, then a YouTube channel, and before long TikTok did what TikTok does—turning it into a viral avalanche of videos, memes, duets, and hashtags. Now #RaptureTok and #RaptureReady are buzzing with people showing off how they’re “preparing.” Some are selling cars because “I won’t need it in heaven.” Others are quitting their jobs, cleaning their houses for those who’ll be left behind, and debating whether pets make the cut when the trumpet sounds.

The reality check? These kinds of prophecies aren’t new. Every few years someone predicts the end of the world, and historically, we’ve all still been here the next morning. Even within Christian circles, there’s heavy skepticism, because the Bible itself says no one knows the day or hour. So when someone confidently names a date, it raises more eyebrows than hallelujahs. Still, in anxious times—pandemics, wars, climate disasters—people crave meaning and structure. Saying “the rapture is coming Tuesday” gives people something to hold onto, even if it’s fear wrapped in hope.

For me, though, living with sarcoidosis and heart failure already makes every day feel like a “what if this is it?” moment. So watching others spiral over a celestial deadline hits differently. On one hand, I get it—hope of something better beyond this pain can be a comfort. On the other, it stirs up grief, guilt, and questions about whether I’ve lived “right,” or whether any of us can ever be “ready” enough. I catch myself wondering what I’d want to say to my wife, or to the dogs at my feet, if the skies really did split open tonight.

But as I sit with it, I can’t help but see the cultural comedy too. Social media has a way of turning sacred into spectacle. People are literally scripting the apocalypse in TikToks and memes, trading theology for trending audio. It’s wild and oddly creative, a community built out of fear and faith and a whole lot of likes. And yet it’s also deeply human. Whether you’re stocking up on Bibles or laughing nervously at a rapture meme, it’s all about wanting to belong somewhere in the chaos.

My take? Don’t sell your car just yet. If September 23rd comes and goes, you’re going to wish you still had wheels. Hold on to your faith if it comforts you, but keep your perspective too. These predictions tend to expire quietly, but kindness and honesty don’t. Be gentle with yourself if you’re feeling heavy. Tell people you love them. Write that note. Make that call. Cook that meal. Even if the rapture doesn’t come, living well while you’re here is its own kind of salvation.

So, whether tonight ends with trumpet blasts or just me scraping burnt bits off the bottom of a pan, I’ll keep stirring, keep writing, keep hoping. And I’ll leave you with this: what do you think? Have you seen this rapture storm on TikTok, or felt the ripple in your community? Drop a comment. Share your story. And if you want more essays that weave together cooking, writing, faith, and the daily mess of chronic illness, hit subscribe—I promise to keep my kitchen hot and my thoughts honest.