Essay 3 — Restorationism, Futurism, and the Relocation of Prophecy

The previous essays explored the historical climate that gave rise to modern prophetic movements. We examined how revivalism, restorationist thinking, Adventism, British-Israelism, and prophetic nationalism emerged from a period of social upheaval and religious excitement. We also saw how many nineteenth-century Christians increasingly interpreted both nations and current events through the lens of biblical prophecy.

Yet an important question remains:

How did so many ancient prophecies become detached from their original historical setting and relocated into the distant future?

The answer lies not merely in particular conclusions but in the interpretive methods that produced them.

At the heart of many modern prophetic systems is an assumption that would have surprised much of earlier Christian history: the belief that numerous biblical prophecies remain fundamentally unfulfilled despite the passage of centuries or even millennia.

According to this view, many prophetic passages addressed to ancient Israel, Judah, Jerusalem, or the surrounding nations are understood to await fulfillment in events still future to our own time. Prophecies originally spoken to specific people in specific historical circumstances are often transferred into an entirely different context and assigned to generations far removed from the original audience.

This raises an important interpretive question. By what principle does such a transfer occur?

Why are some prophecies understood within their original historical setting while others are projected thousands of years into the future?

The question is not whether prophecy can have multiple dimensions or broader significance. The question is whether the text itself requires such a relocation or whether the relocation is being imposed upon the text by an interpretive system.

Consider an example.

Few Christians today believe that Noah's flood is still awaiting fulfillment. Few argue that the Babylonian exile remains future. Few suggest that the destruction of Samaria has yet to occur. When Scripture speaks of the fall of Babylon, the destruction of Nineveh, or the conquest of Jerusalem by foreign armies, interpreters generally recognize these as historical events connected to the original audience and historical circumstances addressed by the prophets.

In these cases, context governs interpretation.

Yet when approaching other prophetic passages—particularly those involving Israel, Jerusalem, the temple, covenant judgment, or the Day of the Lord—many interpreters suddenly adopt a different approach. Historical context becomes secondary. Ancient audiences recede into the background. The prophecy is transferred into a future era and connected to modern nations, geopolitical events, or end-time scenarios.

The question naturally arises: what changed?

Why does context govern interpretation in one case but not in another?

This issue became increasingly important during the nineteenth century.

Restorationist movements encouraged believers to recover truths they believed had been lost. At the same time, prophetic excitement encouraged interpreters to search Scripture for signs relevant to their own generation. As these impulses merged, many Christians became convinced that biblical prophecy contained detailed information about modern history.

The result was a gradual relocation of prophecy.

Ancient prophecies were no longer viewed primarily as messages delivered to covenant communities facing immediate historical realities. Instead, they became coded predictions of future geopolitical events.

The center of gravity shifted.

The prophets themselves had addressed real people living under real covenant obligations. Their warnings concerned actual kingdoms, actual cities, actual rulers, and actual judgments. Yet increasingly, interpreters began reading those same prophecies as though their principal audience lived thousands of years later.

The effect was subtle but profound.

The original covenant context became secondary to future fulfillment.

This shift can be seen throughout many modern prophetic systems. Judgments pronounced against ancient covenant-breaking Israel are projected into future generations. Temple imagery is assigned to future structures. References to Jerusalem are detached from first-century realities and attached to future geopolitical expectations. Apocalyptic language rooted in covenant judgment is transformed into predictions of modern international conflict.

Such interpretations often assume that the most important fulfillment lies not in the prophet's own horizon but in ours.

Yet this assumption itself deserves examination.

The prophets consistently addressed their own generation. They spoke into immediate covenant situations. They warned kings, priests, rulers, and people about consequences that would follow continued rebellion. Their messages were intelligible to their original audiences because those audiences were the intended recipients.

This does not mean that prophetic themes cannot extend beyond their immediate circumstances. Scripture frequently exhibits patterns, typology, and recurring themes. The question is whether those broader applications should replace the original historical meaning.

Too often they have been repurposed to do just that. A prophecy given to ancient Israel becomes primarily about a future nation-state. A warning addressed to covenant-breaking Jerusalem becomes primarily about a future tribulation period. A judgment concerning an existing temple becomes primarily about a temple yet to be built.

In each case, the original audience gradually disappears from view.

Ironically, many of these relocations emerged during the same period that emphasized biblical literalism. Interpreters frequently claimed to be reading prophecy "literally" while simultaneously removing passages from their original covenantal setting and assigning them to distant future circumstances never mentioned in the text itself.

This tension remains unresolved.

If literal interpretation requires that promises to Israel remain tied to ethnic Israel, why do time references, audience references, covenant references, and historical circumstances often receive far less attention?

Why are some textual features treated as binding while others are treated as flexible?

These questions become particularly significant when examining prophecies concerning Jerusalem and the temple.

Throughout the Old Testament, the prophets repeatedly warned of covenant judgment. They spoke of national apostasy, corrupt leadership, religious hypocrisy, and impending destruction. Such warnings were not abstract predictions. They were covenant lawsuits directed toward a covenant people.

Yet many modern systems relocate these warnings almost entirely into the future.

The result is that judgments which appear rooted in identifiable historical circumstances become detached from those circumstances and reassigned to future generations.

One need not deny future hope or future fulfillment to recognize the difficulty.

The question is not whether God has future purposes.

The question is whether specific prophecies should be removed from the covenantal world in which they were given. This issue lies at the heart of modern futurism.

Futurism did not arise in a vacuum. It emerged within the broader nineteenth-century atmosphere already examined in previous essays—a climate shaped by restorationism, prophetic speculation, revivalist urgency, and growing interest in identifying contemporary events within biblical prophecy.

Once interpreters became accustomed to searching prophecy for references to their own age, the temptation to relocate ancient prophecies became increasingly powerful.

The modern world gradually became the primary stage upon which prophecy was expected to unfold.

This helps explain why so many contemporary prophecy discussions focus on modern geopolitics. Nations, alliances, wars, technological developments, and international conflicts often receive more attention than the covenantal circumstances originally addressed by the prophets themselves.

The relocation of prophecy inevitably produces the relocation of attention.

The focus moves away from the original audience and toward the contemporary reader. The covenantal world of Scripture is eclipsed by the geopolitical world of modern interpretation.

This does not necessarily occur because interpreters are insincere. Most are motivated by a genuine desire to understand Scripture faithfully. The problem is methodological rather than personal.

Interpretive systems can shape the questions we ask long before we begin reading the text.

And once a system becomes established, passages are often read through its framework rather than allowed to speak from their own historical setting.

Perhaps that is the most important question raised by this discussion.

Should prophecy be interpreted primarily through the lens of its original covenant context, or through the lens of a future system imposed upon it?

The answer to that question determines far more than one's view of the end times. It shapes how one reads the prophets, understands Israel, interprets judgment, and ultimately perceives the unfolding story of redemption itself.

For if the prophets primarily addressed their own covenant world, then the task of interpretation begins there.

And if interpretation begins there, many of the assumptions underlying modern prophetic systems may require closer examination than they have often received.

Essay 2 — British-Israelism and the Reinvention of Israel

In the previous essay, we examined the religious climate that emerged during the Second Great Awakening. It was an age marked by revivalism, restorationist thinking, prophetic excitement, and a growing conviction that history itself was moving rapidly toward a climactic conclusion. Political revolutions, social upheaval, industrialization, and cultural change convinced many Christians that they were living in extraordinary times. The Bible increasingly became not only a source of doctrine and devotion but also a guide for interpreting contemporary events.

Within this environment, new approaches to prophecy flourished.

As Christians searched Scripture for explanations of the rapidly changing world around them, many began asking questions that earlier generations had seldom considered. Who were the nations mentioned in biblical prophecy? How did ancient prophecies relate to the modern world? Could contemporary nations be identified within the biblical narrative itself?

It was from this atmosphere that British-Israelism emerged.

Although some of its ideas appeared earlier, British-Israelism developed primarily during the nineteenth century and reached its greatest influence during the height of the British Empire. It arose at precisely the moment when revivalism, restorationism, prophetic speculation, and imperial expansion converged. While not a direct product of the Second Great Awakening, it grew naturally from many of the same assumptions that had already become widespread within the evangelical world.¹

At its heart was a remarkably simple claim.

British-Israelism taught that the Anglo-Saxon and related peoples of Britain were descendants of the so-called "Lost Tribes" of Israel. According to this theory, the northern tribes exiled by Assyria in the eighth century BC did not disappear from history. Instead, they migrated gradually through Europe and eventually became the ancestors of the British people. Some proponents extended the theory further, arguing that Americans descended from Manasseh while the British represented Ephraim, the two sons of Joseph.²

This interpretation fundamentally altered the way many people understood both biblical prophecy and national identity.

For centuries, Christians had debated the meaning of Israel in Scripture. Some saw Israel's promises fulfilled in Christ and His Church. Others maintained distinctions between Israel and the Church while still understanding biblical prophecy primarily within its historical and covenantal context. British-Israelism introduced a different possibility altogether: modern nations themselves could be identified as biblical Israel.

The implications were enormous.

If Britain was Ephraim and America was Manasseh, then Old Testament prophecies concerning Israel were no longer primarily about ancient covenant history. They became predictions about modern Anglo-American nations. Promises of blessing, prosperity, influence, and national greatness could be applied directly to Britain and America. The rise of the British Empire itself became evidence that the theory was true.

Empire therefore, became proof of covenant favor.

At the height of British power, this interpretation possessed obvious appeal. Britain governed vast territories across the globe. Its navy dominated the seas. Its language spread internationally. Its wealth and influence appeared unmatched. To many observers, such success seemed too remarkable to be merely historical coincidence. Surely, they reasoned, such extraordinary blessing must have a biblical explanation—and British-Israelism supplied one.

The success of the Empire was interpreted as fulfillment of promises originally given to Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Ephraim, and Manasseh. National prosperity became evidence of covenant election. Imperial expansion became a sign of divine favor. Political success became theological validation.³

Here we encounter one of the most important developments in modern prophetic thought: the merging of biblical prophecy with national identity.

Ancient Israel had been a covenant people established by direct divine revelation and governed under a unique covenantal arrangement. British-Israelism effectively transferred many of those covenantal categories onto modern nations. National destiny became intertwined with biblical destiny. Patriotism became linked to prophetic fulfillment. Political developments acquired theological significance.

This produced a form of prophetic nationalism.

The nation was no longer merely a political entity. It became a participant in sacred history.

The attraction of this way of thinking should not be underestimated. Human beings naturally seek meaning in the stories to which they belong. The idea that one's nation occupied a central role in God's prophetic plan provided both significance and certainty. It assured believers that the turmoil of their age was not random but part of a divinely orchestrated drama.

Yet this approach also carried significant dangers.

Once modern nations were inserted directly into biblical prophecy, the interpretation of Scripture became increasingly tied to contemporary politics and geopolitical events. The original historical setting of many prophecies became less important than their perceived relevance to current affairs. The question gradually shifted from, "What did this prophecy mean to its original audience?" to "Which modern nation does this prophecy describe?"

The result was often a growing detachment from historical context.

Prophecies originally directed toward ancient Israel, Judah, Assyria, Babylon, Egypt, Edom, or other nations were increasingly reassigned to modern states and political powers. The ancient covenantal world of Scripture slowly gave way to a modern geopolitical reading of prophecy.

This tendency did not end with British-Israelism.

Although the movement itself declined significantly during the twentieth century, many of its underlying assumptions survived. In some circles, the explicit identification of Britain with Ephraim disappeared, but the broader habit of locating modern nations within biblical prophecy remained. The impulse proved remarkably durable.

This is where the connection to later evangelical movements becomes important.

British-Israelism was not the same thing as dispensationalism. Nor was it identical to Christian Zionism. Important differences existed between these systems. Nevertheless, they shared a common tendency: each sought to connect biblical prophecy directly to contemporary nations, political developments, and geopolitical events.⁴

In one system, Britain became Israel.

In another, the modern State of Israel became the central focus of prophetic expectation.

In yet another, America assumed an implicit role as a uniquely blessed nation with a providential mission in world history.

The details differed, but the underlying instinct often remained the same.

The Bible increasingly functioned as a map of contemporary geopolitics.

This tendency continues to shape large portions of modern evangelical thought.

Current events in the Middle East are routinely interpreted as prophetic signs. International conflicts are examined for their eschatological significance. Political leaders are scrutinized for possible connections to biblical predictions. News headlines become tools for interpreting prophecy.

In some cases, support for modern Israel is grounded not primarily in historical, political, or humanitarian considerations but in theological expectations concerning future prophecy. This phenomenon, commonly called Christian Zionism, has become one of the most influential expressions of geopolitical theology in the modern evangelical world.⁵

To be clear, support for the modern State of Israel is not identical to British-Israelism. The two movements differ in important respects. Yet both reflect a broader interpretive trend that emerged during the nineteenth century: the tendency to relocate biblical prophecy into the world of modern nation-states.

Both ask essentially the same question:

Where is biblical Israel to be found in the modern world?

The New Testament, however, consistently directs attention elsewhere.

The focus of the apostolic message was not the prophetic destiny of Britain, America, or any future nation-state. It was the reign of Christ, the formation of a new covenant people drawn from every tribe and nation, and the expansion of God's kingdom through the proclamation of the Gospel.

This does not mean that nations are unimportant. Nations matter. Governments matter. Political decisions matter. But the kingdom announced by Christ was never tied to the rise or fall of any particular modern empire.

One of the recurring lessons of history is that every great power eventually imagines itself to occupy a unique place in the divine story. Ancient Israel wrestled with that temptation. Rome wrestled with it. Medieval kingdoms wrestled with it. The British Empire wrestled with it. Modern nations continue to wrestle with it today.

British-Israelism serves as a revealing case study in how easily biblical prophecy can become intertwined with national identity.

Its significance lies not merely in the specific claims it made about the Lost Tribes of Israel. Its deeper significance lies in the interpretive instinct it represents—the desire to locate one's own nation within the pages of biblical prophecy and to read contemporary political history as the direct continuation of the biblical narrative.

That instinct did not begin with British-Israelism, nor did it end there.

Indeed, it remains one of the defining characteristics of much modern prophetic interpretation.

Understanding this history helps explain why so many contemporary prophecy debates continue to revolve around nations, borders, alliances, wars, and political developments. It also raises an important question that will guide the remainder of this series:

What happens when the kingdom of God becomes identified with the destiny of nations rather than the reign of Christ?

________________________

Endnotes

1. Ernest R. Sandeen, The Roots of Fundamentalism: British and American Millenarianism, 1800–1930 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970), 18–45.
2. Tudor Parfitt, The Lost Tribes of Israel (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2002), 51–82.
3. Michael Barkun, Religion and the Racist Right: The Origins of the Christian Identity Movement, rev. ed. (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1997), 11–33.  
4. Paul Boyer, When Time Shall Be No More: Prophecy Belief in Modern American Culture (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1992), 87–131.
   See also: Timothy P. Weber, On the Road to Armageddon: How Evangelicals Became Israel's Best Friend (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2004), 17–48.
5. Stephen Sizer, Christian Zionism: Road-map to Armageddon? (Leicester: Inter-Varsity Press, 2004), 21–57.

When the Modern World Entered the Biblical Story

Essay 1 — The Second Great Awakening and the Search for Prophetic Meaning

Modern Christianity did not arrive at its current prophetic imagination overnight. The systems, assumptions, and expectations that dominate much of evangelical thought today were not simply inherited unchanged from the early Church, nor did they emerge fully formed from the pages of Scripture itself. They developed gradually through centuries of theological debate, political change, revival movements, and shifting views of history. Few periods shaped this process more profoundly than the movement now known as the Second Great Awakening.¹

Beginning in the late eighteenth century and continuing well into the nineteenth, the Second Great Awakening transformed the religious landscape of both Britain and the United States. It was a time of revival meetings, emotional preaching, mass conversions, and renewed interest in personal faith. Entire communities gathered to hear sermons that warned of judgment, called for repentance, and urged individuals to make immediate decisions regarding salvation. Christianity became increasingly experiential, urgent, and public.²

Yet the movement did more than revive religious enthusiasm. It also reshaped how many Christians viewed history itself.

The period was marked by dramatic political and social upheaval. The American Revolution challenged old assumptions about monarchy, authority, and social order. The French Revolution shook Europe and raised fears of chaos, violence, judgment, and societal collapse. Industrialization uprooted communities, transformed economies, and altered patterns of daily life. Meanwhile, scientific advancement and Enlightenment rationalism weakened confidence in traditional institutions and inherited systems of belief.³

To many Christians, the world no longer seemed stable or familiar. Long-standing structures appeared to be crumbling. Political revolutions overturned governments. Economic change disrupted communities. Technological progress altered daily life faster than many could fully comprehend. Institutions that once seemed permanent suddenly appeared fragile. It is not difficult to understand why so many believers turned to Scripture in search of certainty and stability.

The Bible increasingly became more than a source of doctrine and devotion. For many, it became a guide for interpreting world events themselves.

Wars, revolutions, famines, social unrest, political instability, and natural disasters appeared to confirm that history was approaching a decisive climax. The books of Daniel and Revelation attracted enormous attention because they seemed to offer insight into a world that felt increasingly unstable and unpredictable. Many Christians became convinced that they were living in the generation that would witness the culmination of history and the fulfillment of biblical prophecy.⁴

In many ways, this atmosphere bears striking similarities to the modern world.

Today, many evangelicals look upon political division, cultural upheaval, economic uncertainty, technological transformation, moral confusion, war, and global instability and conclude that humanity must surely be standing on the threshold of the Great Tribulation and the imminent return of Christ. Current events are frequently interpreted as unprecedented signs that history is entering its final chapter.

Yet history reminds us that earlier generations often believed much the same thing.

The crises of the nineteenth century felt unparalleled to those who lived through them, just as modern crises feel unparalleled to us today. The same could be said of earlier eras marked by war, plague, invasion, persecution, or societal collapse. Again and again throughout history, periods of upheaval have produced intense prophetic speculation and renewed certainty that the end of the age had finally arrived.

This observation does not diminish the seriousness of present concerns. Rather, it reminds us that crisis itself has often shaped prophetic interpretation more than many believers realize. One of the defining characteristics of the Second Great Awakening was not merely revivalism, but the growing tendency to interpret contemporary events directly through the lens of biblical prophecy. Political revolutions became prophetic signs. National conflicts became apocalyptic symbols. Economic and social changes became evidence that the world was moving toward divine judgment.⁵

This shift profoundly altered the way many Christians approached Scripture.

Rather than first asking how biblical prophecy functioned within its original covenantal and historical setting, increasing numbers of interpreters began asking how prophecy related to their own generation, nation, and political circumstances. The focus gradually moved away from the historical context of Scripture and toward the modern world itself.

One of the most significant developments during this period was the democratization of biblical interpretation. In earlier centuries, theological authority often rested primarily with established churches, clergy, or academic institutions. During the revival movements, however, ordinary Christians increasingly believed they could study and interpret Scripture for themselves. Literacy rates increased, printed materials spread rapidly, and revival preaching encouraged personal engagement with the biblical text.⁶

In many respects, this development had positive effects. It encouraged Bible reading, evangelism, personal responsibility before God, and renewed engagement with Scripture among ordinary believers. Yet it also produced unintended consequences.

As interpretive authority became increasingly decentralized, theological continuity with earlier Christian history often weakened. Large numbers of interpreters approached Scripture with limited understanding of its historical world. Ancient languages, covenantal context, audience relevance, prophetic symbolism, and literary genre were frequently overlooked or misunderstood.

In many cases, poor hermeneutics led to weak exegesis.

Rather than asking what a text meant within its original setting or how its first audience would have understood it, interpreters often began with contemporary concerns and then searched Scripture for passages that appeared to support predetermined conclusions.

At times, theories were formed first and biblical texts gathered afterward to reinforce them. Prophetic passages from different centuries, covenants, audiences, and historical settings were increasingly assembled into elaborate interpretive systems. Symbols and judgments originally tied to ancient Israel, surrounding nations, or first-century events were often relocated into distant future scenarios with little regard for their original context.

This tendency became particularly powerful within prophetic interpretation. Once a theory gained popularity, generations of teachers, writers, and eventually scholars emerged from within those traditions. Over time, systems that may have begun as speculative interpretations acquired an appearance of theological stability and scholarly sophistication. Entire schools of interpretation developed around assumptions that earlier generations of Christians may never have recognized.⁷

As these traditions matured, many believers inherited the finished systems without examining the historical circumstances from which they arose. Interpretations shaped by revivalist urgency, political upheaval, and prophetic excitement gradually came to be treated as though they represented the plain and obvious meaning of Scripture itself.

As prophetic speculation increased, so did restorationist thinking.

Many believers became convinced that Christianity itself had fallen into corruption and compromise. Denominations were viewed with suspicion. Established churches were often seen as spiritually lifeless or doctrinally compromised. In response, numerous movements arose seeking to restore what they believed to be the purity of the apostolic faith.⁸

Some sought to restore New Testament church structure. Others attempted to recover spiritual gifts, apostolic authority, prophetic insight, or moral purity. Still others believed they were recovering truths lost through centuries of tradition and institutional religion. The language of restoration became deeply woven into the religious culture of the age.

This restorationist impulse would eventually influence a wide range of groups and movements, including Adventism, the Stone-Campbell Restoration Movement, later Pentecostalism, and numerous independent prophetic ministries.

At the same time, the Holiness movement emerged from within Methodism and broader revival culture. Holiness preaching emphasized personal sanctification, moral discipline, spiritual renewal, and complete devotion to God. Believers were encouraged not merely to profess faith, but to pursue transformed lives marked by purity and obedience.⁹

Yet even this emphasis became linked to the growing sense that history itself was approaching a final crisis. Calls to holiness were frequently accompanied by warnings that the world stood on the brink of divine judgment. Revival and repentance were viewed not only as personal necessities but as urgent preparation for the culmination of God's purposes in history.

Within this atmosphere, Adventism found fertile ground.

Among the most influential prophetic figures of the era was William Miller, whose study of biblical chronology led him to conclude that Christ would return during the 1840s. His message spread rapidly throughout the United States, attracting thousands who believed they were living in the final generation before Christ's return.¹⁰

For many followers, prophecy ceased to be merely symbolic or theological. It became immediate and personal. Newspapers, political developments, wars, economic changes, and natural disasters were interpreted as signs confirming that the end was near.

When Christ did not return in 1844—an event later remembered as the Great Disappointment—the movement fragmented. Yet its influence did not disappear. Instead, it gave rise to new Adventist traditions and helped normalize a style of biblical interpretation centered on prophetic timelines, signs of the times, and the expectation of imminent fulfillment.¹¹

By the late nineteenth century, many Protestants increasingly viewed the modern world through an apocalyptic lens. Nations were assigned prophetic roles. Contemporary events were interpreted as direct fulfillments of ancient prophecies. History itself became a living prophetic map. In some circles, Britain and America came to be viewed not merely as powerful nations but as covenant actors with divinely appointed roles in redemptive history.

It was within this environment that movements such as British-Israelism would emerge and flourish.¹²

The same atmosphere that produced revivalism, restorationism, and Adventist expectation also encouraged attempts to identify modern nations within biblical prophecy. Questions that earlier generations may never have considered suddenly became central. Who are the lost tribes of Israel? Which modern nations appear in prophecy? Is the modern world itself the continuation of the biblical story?

Such questions reflected a profound shift in theological imagination.

The focus of Christianity gradually moved from the covenantal world of Scripture into the geopolitical world of modern nations and current events. Ancient prophecies increasingly became detached from their original historical context and reapplied directly to modern political realities. The Bible was no longer read merely as the story of redemption fulfilled in Christ and His kingdom, but as an interpretive key to modern history itself.

This transformation would shape much of modern evangelical prophecy teaching for generations to come.

To be clear, the Second Great Awakening produced many sincere expressions of Christian devotion. It encouraged Bible reading, evangelism, missionary activity, and renewed concern for personal faith. Yet alongside these developments emerged another tendency—a growing habit of interpreting Scripture through the lens of contemporary crisis, national identity, and prophetic speculation.

The effects of that tendency remain with us still.

Modern Christians often assume that prophetic interpretation naturally belongs at the center of the Christian experience. Many instinctively search current events for signs of fulfillment, identify nations within prophecy, and interpret social upheaval as evidence that the end is near. Yet these instincts did not emerge in a vacuum. They arose within a particular historical moment shaped by revivalism, restorationism, prophetic excitement, and the anxious search for meaning in a rapidly changing world.

Understanding this history does not settle every theological question. But it does remind us that modern prophetic systems are not simply timeless readings of Scripture handed down unchanged from the apostles. They are also products of history—shaped by revival movements, cultural upheaval, national identity, and the enduring human desire to locate one's own generation within the unfolding drama of biblical prophecy.

______________________________

Endnotes

1. Nathan O. Hatch, The Democratization of American Christianity (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989).
2. George M. Marsden, Understanding Fundamentalism and Evangelicalism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991), 15–36.
3. Mark A. Noll, America's God (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002), 363–402.
4. Paul Boyer, When Time Shall Be No More: Prophecy Belief in Modern American Culture (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1992), 51–73.
5. Ernest R. Sandeen, The Roots of Fundamentalism (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970), 3–31.
6. Hatch, Democratization of American Christianity, 5–30.
7. Ernest R. Sandeen, The Roots of Fundamentalism: British and American Millenarianism, 1800–1930 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970), 18–65.
8. Richard T. Hughes, Reviving the Ancient Faith (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996).
9. Melvin E. Dieter, The Holiness Revival of the Nineteenth Century (Lanham, MD: Scarecrow Press, 1996).
10. David L. Rowe, God's Strange Work: William Miller and the End of the World (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008).
11. George R. Knight, Millennial Fever and the End of the World (Boise, ID: Pacific Press, 1993).
12. Michael Barkun, Religion and the Racist Right: The Origins of the Christian Identity Movement, rev. ed. (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1997), 3–28; see also Tudor Parfitt, The Lost Tribes of Israel (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2002), 51–82.