When Babylon Wears a Cross: Evil Camouflaged

Know this: In the last days, perilous times will come. People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, ungrateful, unholy, without natural affection, trucebreakers, slanderers, unrestrained, fierce, despisers of those who are good, traitors, reckless, conceited, lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God, having a form of godliness but denying its power. Turn away from such individuals (2 Timothy 3:1–5).

Jesus warned us that deception would enter our lives as we approach the end of the age. Paul also foretold the atmosphere we’d face: self-love like a high-pressure system, with love of money close behind, all while religion maintains a facade of sincerity. John described a vision of a system symbolized by a chalice, intoxicated with power and a threat to the saints (Revelation 17). We’ll be asked to treat same-sex marriage as a covenant, to ordain pastors in same-sex unions, and to tag faithful disagreement as hate. Where false religion settles, love changes color. Love of God gives way to self-approval. Desire gets crowned and renamed identity. Modesty is laughed off. Truth is negotiated. The music can be flawless, and the graphics clean; the Spirit still grieves in rooms like that. 

This vision wasn’t simply to help us engage in speculation; it was meant to keep our souls alert. People often inquire about the “false church.” I prefer to call it the "Babylonian Mystery Church." This church quotes Scripture while avoiding the cross. It proclaims knowledge of God but dismisses His power. It builds platforms faster than altars, delivers messages that are clean and painless, and has leaders who shine. Its literature consistently revolves around self-improvement. The atmosphere might feel warm, but the center remains cold. Laodicea would fit right in—pleasant, unaware, arrogant, and convinced that their comfort is the presence of God (Revelation 3:14–22).

Scripture refers to the larger force behind false religion as Babylon. This entity buys and sells people with a smile, wooing kings and preachers alike. It hosts conferences under the guise of unity, all the while martyrs accumulate in the footnotes. Some try to label Babylon, pointing fingers at specific groups, movements, or individuals.

I believe the Bible provides criteria rather than brands. Wherever power is enamored with itself, wherever money stifles repentance, and wherever leaders confuse charisma with holiness, Babylon has set up shop.

So, what does a faithful church look like in these late hours? Scripture provides a glimpse. Smyrna: poor in appearance, rich in the sight of God, steadfast under pressure (Revelation 2:8–11). Philadelphia: an open door with a preserved message, a weak hand upheld by a strong Christ (Revelation 3:7–13). Neither of them would have had fog machines; if they did, they wouldn’t call that haze the glory cloud and certainly wouldn’t play it during communion. However, a faithful church does carry a fragrance: repentance, humility, endurance, and brotherly love. You can detect it as you enter.

Here are three tests to examine yourself and any church you may visit.

The Cross Test.

Where Christ crucified is cherished, deception loses its oxygen. The cross levels us. It strips our titles and tones down our stage lights. Leaders confess sin. People forgive each other. Money turns into bread for the hungry. Holiness grows ribs. A church that keeps the cross at eye level is less tempted to chase applause. Without the cross, even a miracle becomes a marketing campaign.

The Scripture Test.

The Bible stays open in a faithful church. We read it as daily bread. Teaching remains inside the story of Jesus and the witness of the apostles. When someone leans on a stray verse to sell a vision, we do what the Bereans did—search the Scriptures to see if these things are so (Acts 17:11). Teachers are weighed, not merely followed. If a “word” cannot survive patient testing, it wasn’t a word worth keeping (1 John 4:1).

The Fruit Test.

Gifts get attention. Fruit feeds people. Counterfeits lean on the show—signs and wonders on stage (Matthew 24:24). I’m grateful for the Spirit’s real work, and I look for fruit: love that lifts the weak, joy that endures loss, peace that outlasts headlines, patience with the draining, kindness toward enemies, goodness when no one sees, faithfulness that keeps small promises, gentleness with sinners, self-control when a microphone is near (Galatians 5:22–23). Where that fruit grows, the Spirit has been planting it for a while.

A word on “unity” and “power,” two ideas that get borrowed by the false religion:

Unity goes soft when truth is demoted to a vibe. Real unity has bones. It forms around Christ’s lordship, His gospel, His commands. It can hug across denominations without melting doctrine into syrup. When unity asks you to mute Jesus to keep the peace, you just met a counterfeit peace.

Power, in the kingdom, looks like Jesus on His knees with a towel. It looks like a leader who returns the phone call and tells the truth with tears. It looks like prayer that has a history. When people demand displays to prove the Spirit is here, when the room chases wonder without obedience, crowds form easily, and disciples vanish just as easily.

The appetite for wonder will be used to herd the world toward a man who loves worship and hates God (2 Thessalonians 2:3–10). People will approve of it because the show delivers. That is the scarecrow of the last days: full of straw, frightening from a distance, hollow up close.

So what shall we do? I keep coming back to small, sturdy habits, the quiet defiance of saints who intend to finish.

Keep the Bible open at home. Read whole books of the Bible slowly, or better yet, join a Bible study group. Let Jesus correct you in red letters and black. Memorize the kinds of verses that confront our appetites. Pray with a friend or friends out loud every week. If you lead, tell the truth about your limits. If you give, do it without fanfare and with receipts going to the poor. Choose a church where the old women pray like prophets and the teenagers carry Bibles that look used. If you’re asked to serve, say yes to the hidden jobs first. If your church grows, grow the prayer meeting faster than the platform. If someone dazzles the room, add them to the list of people you pray for by name. Dazzle is a hard test to pass.

Above all, stay close to the faithful. Every era has a crowd. God always keeps a remnant. Find the men and women whose faces carry peace that was purchased in the furnace. Sit near them. Carry burdens with them. Let your loves align: Christ before career, neighbor before brand, integrity before reach. No algorithm can counterfeit that.

I stay with prayer, scripture, and service. I keep the Word in my ear and ground under my feet. The last mile will be crowded with fakes—smooth talk, fake holiness, religion that performs and never repents. Apostasy doesn’t usually kick down the door. It drifts. It edits. It sells. The remedy

isn’t paranoia; it’s proximity to Jesus and His people. Test all things. Hold fast to what is good. Turn away from evil when it shows up dressed for church (1 Thessalonians 5:21–22).

If you’ve been burned by a false church, I’m sorry. Come sit in the back rows with me for a while. We’ll listen for the Voice that has saved us more than once. He still walks among His churches. He still speaks to lampstands. He still knocks. When Jesus enters, He brings a table, and somehow the room fills with light that no bulb can create. You will know Him when He breaks the bread. You will know Him when He serves. And you will know Him by His wounds.