War

Journalist Lance Morrow won the National Magazine Award for an essay— “The Case for Rage and Retribution”—written on Sept. 11, 2001. His opening in that essay captured the national mood as well as reflecting Morrow’s sense of good and evil:

For once, let’s have no ‘grief counselors’ standing by with banal consolations, as if the purpose, in the midst of all this, were merely to make everyone feel better as quickly as possible. We shouldn’t feel better. For once, let’s have no fatuous rhetoric about ‘healing.’ Healing is inappropriate now, and dangerous. There will be time later for the tears of sorrow. A day cannot live in infamy without the nourishment of rage. Let’s have rage.

Possible Preaching Angle:

When preaching the imprecatory psalms, remember they are not about personal vengeance, but prayers focused on God’s justice, sovereignty, and protection. These psalms express a longing for justice from those oppressed by enemies of both God’s people and God. God promises divine justice for His people: “Will not God bring about justice for his chosen ones, who cry out to him day and night?... He will see that they get justice, and quickly” (Luke 18:7–8; cf. Rev. 19:2).

The UN Refugee Agency says the country of Columbia has hosted 3 million refugees and migrants from neighboring Venezuela. Columbia has also had the second highest number of Internally Displaced Persons, IDPs, in the world. Since 1985, violence and threats from armed groups have caused 6.7 million Columbians to flee their homes and go elsewhere in the country. Almost 20% of Columbia's population have been traumatized by the refugee, migrant or IDP experience. Here's one pastor’s story:

In 1984, Pastor Jose Higinio Licona and his family experienced violent displacement themselves in their hometown. His family owned a 6-acre farm, milked cows, and grew yucca and corn. One evening, when Licona returned from church, he found dozens of uniformed men with guns in his house, nonchalantly sipping his wife's lemonade. They demanded that he join their force. Pastor Jose decided it was time to flee with his family and a few animals. During their flight, they had to sell their animals and food became scarce. They never got their land back. Pastor Licona's current church is small, only about two dozen people. But most of them could report similar stories of loss as IDPs.

Since they were IDPs themselves, Licona's church started helping Venezuelan migrants when they started coming about 4 years ago. They butchered cows and harvested a half ton of yucca. They helped migrants pay rent and apply for temporary protection status. They hosted dinners offering Venezuelan dishes, offered counseling, and shoulders to cry on. They're helping 2,000 Venezuelan migrants who settled in the area. Pastor Jose says helping migrants is instinctive, "How could they not? We are all IDPs!"

This church has given from what little it had. What sacrifice!

The movie Hacksaw Ridge tells the true story of a young man named Desmond Doss. Doss grew up as a follower of Jesus who had strong beliefs about not killing, even in war. So, he became a medic. He was openly harassed for this decision. He even faced a court martial before all charges were dropped.

During the Battle of Okinawa, Doss’ unit was told they would have to join the fight to secure Medea escarpment, or Hacksaw Ridge. Many lives were lost. Doss, however, did not leave as he continued to hear the cry of injured soldiers. Doss sought out the wounded and carried them to safety. Then he would pray, “Lord, help me to find one more!”

Just after daybreak, and fleeing from the enemy, he made it to safety among the U.S. troops at the bottom. He was muddy, sweaty, bloody, scarred, and exhausted. He could barely stand. But for someone who had been in the thick of rescuing the dying all night from the throes of the enemy, what would you expect? To rescue, you have to be willing to get in the muck and mire.

This is what God does. He doesn’t abandon the cry of the dying. This is what makes the Triune God different than all other gods. Jesus came to seek and save the lost. This meant he had to get in the muck and mire with us and our sin.

An article in The Wall Street Journal notes that “Some American soldiers returned from Afghanistan bearing scars or missing limbs. Others have wounds invisible to those around them, or even to themselves.”

The article highlights the story of Tyler Koller. Raised in a conservative Christian home, Koller joined the Army at the age of 18, and his first deployment was with Bravo Company. In his Army days, the fire in Koller’s belly was stoked by belief in his mission and faith in a just and loving God. He’d gather his squad to say a prayer before they stepped out of the wire to go on patrol, and he wouldn’t ever say a cuss word, even though his fellow troops used to offer him money to say the F-word out loud. “No way,” he’d say. It would be an affront to the Lord and to his mother, who raised him in the Pentecostal church.

Koller wasn’t physically broken in Afghanistan, but something did happen to him. Like many men and women who went to Iraq and Afghanistan in over 20 years of war, he suffered a moral injury. A soldier heads to a war zone with a carefully tuned moral compass that parents and preachers and teachers and friends have helped to calibrate.

But in a combat zone, soldiers see, hear, and do things that aren’t aligned with the true north of that moral compass. Koller saw horrible things in Afghanistan: the killing of American and Taliban soldiers but also the inadvertent maiming of children. He learned of bacha bazi, a slang term for the sexual abuse of young boys by corrupt Afghan policemen.

“The faith that I had went away,” Koller said, though “I have hope in my heart that there’s a higher being out there.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

This is a negative illustration, but it can raise questions around suffering or the problem of evil. What does your sermon text or biblical theme say about how to maintain your faith in the midst of suffering and evil?

Actress Angelina Jolie claims, “I don’t really have … a social life.” Instead, she admits, “I realized my closest friends are refugees. Maybe four out of six of the women that I am close to are from war and conflict.”

She explained what refugees have to offer that the shallowness of Hollywood does not offer:

There’s a reason people who have been through hardship are also much more honest and much more connected, and I am more relaxed with them. Why do I like spending time with people who’ve survived and are refugees? They’ve confronted so much in life that it brings forward not just strength, but humanity.

Possible Preaching Angles:

Angelina Jolie may not be a follower of Jesus, but she does have some biblical truth here—suffering can make us deeper and more compassionate people.

For the past eight years, the non-profit organization CARE has been tracking what it calls the year’s ten worst humanitarian crises. This year places like Angola, Zambia, Burundi, and Uganda faced famines, wars, or crises that impacted at least one million people. CARE uses a media monitoring service to count the number the crisis gets mentioned in mainstream media sources. Then it compares that number to the number of times more popular stories get mentioned.

Here are some examples from their annual report: There were over 273,000 online articles about the new Barbie film, while the abuse of women’s rights in every country in the report received next to no coverage. The crisis in Angola received the least media attention in 2023. Despite 7.3 million people in the country in desperate need of humanitarian aid, it received just 1,049 media mentions.

By comparison, 273,421 articles were written about the new iPhone 15. Taylor Swift’s world tour garnered 163,368 articles while Prince Harry’s book Spare got 215,084. Meanwhile, drought and floods in Zambia had 1,371 articles.

The CARE report concludes: “In a world where news cycles are becoming more short-lived, it is more important than ever that we collectively remember that every crisis, whether forgotten or not, brings with it a human toll.”

In an article in The Atlantic, Ross Andersen raises the question: "Did Humans Ever Live in Peace?"

Archeologists have long had evidence of conflict between small rival groups. And the earliest signs of war have been dated to the dawn of civilization (with the Sumerians and Egyptians). But recent discoveries at Laguardia, Spain pushes proof of our warring inclination to the dawn of agriculture. So how far does war go back in our history?

Because war is, by definition, organized violence. Hieroglyphic inscriptions tell us that more than 5,000 years ago, the first pharaoh conquered chiefdoms up and down the Nile delta to consolidate his power over Egypt. A Sumerian poem suggests that some centuries later, King Gilgamesh fended off a siege at Uruk, the world’s first city. But new findings, at Laguardia and other sites across the planet, now indicate that wars were also occurring at small-scale farming settlements all the way back to the dawn of agriculture, if not before.

For nearly a century, anthropologists have wanted to know how long people have been engaged in organized group violence. It’s not some idle antiquarian inquiry. For many, the question bears on human nature itself, and with ruinous wars ongoing in Europe, the Middle East, and elsewhere, it has become more resonant. If warring among humans began only recently, then we might be able to blame it on changeable circumstances. If, however, some amount of war has been with us since our species’ origins, or earlier in our evolutionary history, it may be difficult to excise it from the human condition.

But Andersen closes his piece with a view of what he thinks is hope:

What separates us most from other species is our cultural plasticity: We are always changing, sometimes even for the better. We have found ways to end blood feuds that implicated hundreds of millions. War may be a long-standing mainstay of human life, an inheritance from our deepest past. But each generation gets to decide whether to keep passing it down.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Andersen's view is common today. It sees humanity as though in constant progress towards perfection. We currently rest at the zenith. His "hope" is for this progress to continue. But a survey of our history reveals that this view is no hope at all. It is simply doing the same thing over and over again while expecting a different result. That is not hope, it is insanity. There is no hope for lasting peace until the Prince of Peace appears (Isa. 9:6-7).

Though he played a vital role in the U.S. victory over Japan in World War II, Navy Capt. Joseph Rochefort and his heroics long went unrecognized. Rochefort, who died in 1976, was a mid-level intelligence officer whose small unit in Hawaii provided the analysis that led to the U.S. naval victory in the Battle of Midway—the turning point of the Pacific war.

In 1929 the Navy sent three young officers, including Rochefort, to Japan to spend three years becoming fluent in the Japanese language and culture. Then in 1941 Rochefort was sent to Station Hypo at Pearl Harbor to lead a team of code-breakers. By May 1942, Rochefort believed he had sufficient evidence from intercepted Japanese radio traffic to convince Adm. Chester Nimitz that two Japanese fleets of carriers and battleships were at sea on their way to attack Midway Island. Top Navy officers didn’t accept Rochefort’s judgment.

Rochefort and his team came up with a ploy to persuade their superiors: The U.S. base at Midway would send out a message to Navy-supply services that the Midway desalination system was failing and there was a dearth of drinking water on the island. The Japanese took the bait and immediately provided desalting materials to their landing forces, thus confirming that Midway was a target for invasion.

Rochefort was vindicated. Rochefort served the rest of his career with honor, without being awarded the Distinguished Service Medal he was clearly due. That was corrected by President Ronald Reagan in 1986, when Rochefort—44 years after Midway—was posthumously given the award.

Possible Preaching Angle:

There are also many believers who faithfully serve the Lord without human recognition or applause. They will be remembered by the Lord on the day when works are judged and will be given their great reward by the One who sees all who faithfully and quietly serve him.

President Abraham Lincoln’s biographer, Jon Meacham argues that Lincoln's version of Christian faith was complicated. But Meacham also adds, “There is no doubt, however, that the Lincoln of the White House years became more religiously inclined, attending services with some regularity and meeting with ministers and congregants.” Lincoln became more convinced of the sovereign purposes of a God who oversees world events.

At one point. Lincoln said, “I may not be a great man. I know I'm not a great man—and perhaps it is better than it is so—for it makes me rely upon One who is great and who has the wisdom and power to lead us safely through this great trial [of the Civil War.]”

Navy Seal Admiral, William McRaven, talks about an important lesson Seals learn: Think first of others. In an interview with AARP, he said:

I like to tell the story of Sgt. Maj. Chris Faris, my right-hand man in Afghanistan. One day, I did a Zoom call with my doctor, and she told me I’d been diagnosed with cancer. I needed to go back to the States immediately to have my spleen removed and start chemotherapy. She added, “Your military career is probably over.”

When I got back to my office, Chris was there, and he noticed something wasn’t right. After I told him, he said, “OK, boss, we’ve got the morning briefing coming up, and you need to be there. The troops are counting on you.”

So, we did the video teleconference with thousands of our team members around the world. And before I could say anything, Chris asked someone to put up a list of the people who’d been injured in combat the night before. Then he gave me a look, and I knew what it meant. I had a problem, but it paled in comparison to what these young men and women were going through. That was exactly the right thing to tell me at the time. It helped put my minor problem in perspective.

Near the end of the Civil War, there was a touching scene that showed the gentleness and tenderness of President Abraham Lincoln. While he was visiting near the battle lines, Lincoln noticed three kittens, who had lost their mother. Moved by their mewing, he picked them up to comfort them.

Lincoln said, “Poor little creatures, don’t cry; you’ll be taken good care of.” To an officer, the President added, “Colonel, I hope you will see that these poor little motherless waifs are given plenty of milk and treated kindly.” The colonel replied “I will see, Mr. President, that they are taken in charge by the cook of our mess and are well cared for.”

One of the officers on the scene said, “It was a curious sight at an army headquarters, upon the eve of a great military crisis, in the nation’s history, to see the hand which had affixed the signature to the Emancipation Proclamation, and had signed the commissions of all the army men who served in the cause of the Union … tenderly caressing three stray kittens.”

Lincoln’s biographer, John Meacham adds, “It was not only curious—it was revealing. In the midst of carnage, fresh from a battlefield strewn with the corpses of those he had ordered in the battle, Lincoln was seeking some kind of affirmation of life, some evidence of innocence, some sense of kindliness amid cruelty. The orphaned kittens were a small thing, but they were there, and his focus on their welfare was a passing human moment in a vast drama.”

Charles Plumb was a U.S. Navy jet pilot in Vietnam. After 75 combat missions, his plane was destroyed by a surface-to-air missile. Plumb ejected and parachuted into enemy hands. He was captured and spent six years in a communist Vietnamese prison. He survived the ordeal and now speaks on the lessons learned from that experience.

One day, when Plumb and his wife were sitting in a restaurant, a man at another table came up and said, "You're Plumb! You flew jet fighters in Vietnam from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk. "You were shot down!" Plumb asked, "How in the world did you know that?" The man replied, “I packed your parachute.”

Plumb gasped in surprise and gratitude. The man pumped his hand and said, "I guess it worked!" Plumb assured him, "It sure did. If your chute hadn't worked, I wouldn't be here today."

Plumb couldn't sleep that night, thinking about that man. Plumb says, "I kept wondering what he might have looked like in a Navy uniform: a white hat, a bib in the back, and bell-bottom trousers. I wonder how many times I might have seen him and not even said 'Good morning, how are you?' or anything because, you see, I was a fighter pilot and he was just a sailor."

Plumb thought of the many hours the sailor had spent on a long wooden table in the bowels of the ship, carefully weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of each chute, holding in his hands each time the fate of someone he didn't know.

Now, Plumb asks his audience, "Who's packing your parachute? Who has done something that has helped make your day safer – or easier or more pleasant – or who have you witnessed ‘packing’ for someone else? Recognize them right away.”

Possible Preaching Angles:

1) Help; Support; Support Team – Each of us are touched by individuals who provide what we need to make it through the day. Praise that person. You are supporting the kind of behavior you respect – making it more likely to happen again. 2) Evangelism; Discipleship - Who told you about Christ? Who discipled you? We are all grateful to someone for introducing us to Jesus. Let’s give thanks for them “for packing our chute.”

October 27, 1962 was the day the world almost ended. One man, Vasily Arkhipov, displayed the virtue of self-control. He was the second in command of the Soviet submarine B-59 during the Cuban Missile Crisis. Located deep underwater near Cuba and unable to receive outside communication due to mandated radio silence, the crew had not heard anything from Moscow in days when they were detected by the US Navy. The Americans released explosives intended to force B-59 to the surface.

The crew was unsure how to proceed. Battery power in the submarine was dwindling, and the extreme heat in the vessel became unbearable. Some members of the crew suspected that war had broken out and wanted to launch nuclear warheads toward the US mainland to aid the Soviet offensive. Of course, if war had not broken out, this action would certainly begin one and likely result in global devastation.

The captain and the third-in-command both wanted to launch the missile, but Soviet protocol required that all three officers make the unanimous decision to strike, and Arkhipov wanted to think about it. He eventually decided that he wouldn't agree to the launch, but instead would wait for orders.

As Arkhipov’s cooler head prevailed, the sub surfaced. The US Navy surrounded them and forced them to return to the Soviet Union in shame. For years, Arkhipov endured taunts in his home country for choosing to surface. However, in 2002, Robert McNamara, the former US Secretary of Defense, publicly acknowledged that Arkhipov's decision prevented a nuclear war at “the most dangerous moment in human history.” Arkhipov is a notable example of someone who displayed self-control and integrity despite direct pressure to do the opposite.

Psalm 46 says, “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.” A particular scene from Fury, a movie set mostly inside a World War Two-era tank of the same name, brings this beautiful promise home.

In the waning days of the war as American soldiers flood into Germany, we’re transported to a field where a group of GIs are exposed and pinned down by German fire, helpless to do anything but wait. They are definitely in trouble.

Suddenly, “Fury” and a pair of other tanks break through and advance, guns thundering away at the German positions. Do the GIs rise and charge ahead, side-by-side with the tanks? No! They simply roll to where the tanks are, slide in behind them and move ahead, letting the tanks do all the work, letting the tanks do what they were designed to do.

It is the same with God. Notice the psalmist says that God, and he alone, is our refuge, our strength. Not God plus our abilities or God plus our strength or wits or might. Just God. Sometimes, it’s best to simply slide in behind him in obedience and let him do what only he can do.

As a child, Juliet Liu Waite and her sisters would plead with their aunt to tell them the story of their escape from Saigon, South Vietnam. The story begins in the family home on the night of April 30, 1975. The family had just finished dinner when a loud explosion blew out the windows at the back of the house. The Fall of Saigon and the end of the 20-year-long war in Vietnam had begun.

Juliet’s grandmother had worked for 20 years as a translator for the US Department of Defense. Her American boss had assured her, “Don’t worry. We won’t leave without you. We’ll make sure you are taken care of.” But she had not heard from him in days. She did not know that he had already left the country, leaving her and her family behind without even a telephone call.

Juliet writes:

Now, with her family sprawled across the floor, their ears ringing from the blast, my grandmother decided: “It’s time to go.” Each packed a small bag of essential items. Outside the house, bombs were exploding, taking down shops, houses, and people. They ducked low, making their way from ditch to ditch, crawling toward the airport. It took them all night.

At dawn the family arrived at the airport security gates. Her grandmother showed her papers to the guards, telling them her boss’ name, saying that he had promised to get them out. The guard shook his head. “I’m sorry. Your name isn’t on this list.” The grandmother begged, “Please! I worked for the Americans. They will kill us all.” Her grandmother grabbed the gold jewelry and small items of value she had taken from the house. “Please,” she said. “Take all of this.” The guard took all of it, then let them through the gate.

Juliet writes,

My grandparents and uncles urged the girls to get on the first available chopper. “No!” my aunties and my mother cried. “We cannot separate!” But my grandfather insisted. “You cannot wait! We will be right behind you!” They finally agreed. In the chaos, my grandparents did not see which chopper they boarded, though they were pretty sure it was the one they were watching. Suddenly, the helicopter exploded as a missile tore through it. My grandparents looked on in horror, believing that they had just lost the four young women.

It would be another two weeks before they discovered they had been mistaken; the girls had boarded a different helicopter. The family waited for the following helicopters to bring their parents, but as they waited, no familiar faces appeared. Turning to strangers, they asked, “Please! We cannot find our parents!” People shook their heads. Some murmured that not all of the helicopters had made it. My mother and her sisters wept.

They boarded a ship that carried the women to Guam where one of my aunties stumbled across my grandfather. It was a miracle they found each other amid the chaotic crowds. When the whole family was reunited, they were overwhelmed at the mystery of this blessing. Eventually the family began to prosper. How had had the family’s story ended so well?

Far away, at a small Baptist church in Lafayette, Indiana, some Christians were convinced that God’s heart was for those nobody wanted. Together, they committed to sponsoring a refugee family. They raised money, found housing, and provided clothing and furniture to a strange family from a foreign land.

My mother’s family knew nothing about Jesus or the church when they lived in Vietnam. But they encountered a generosity they had never witnessed. “It wasn’t just the money and the things they provided,” my mother would say. “We saw in these people a kindness we had never seen before.”

This is also my story. I grew up knowing that I existed because a group of people believed that a merciful God was asking them to show mercy to those who needed it. I grew up knowing that this was a God worth trusting.

Editor’s Note: Juliet Liu Waite is now a co-pastor at Life on the Vine, a church in the Chicago suburbs.

A series of political, cultural, and social events in the early 1980s led to many Germans to deal honestly with the Nazi horrors of the past. Before 1980 most Germans regarded themselves as victims of the Second World War. Vast numbers had lost family members, friends, colleagues. As the post-war generation was coming of age, "more and more Germans came to grasp the enormity of Nazi crimes against others, especially Jews." The actions of the nationally repentant were numerous and mostly local.

In schools and communities, research soared, as ordinary people … got to work. Teachers, housewives, retirees, and students researched what happened in their neighborhoods. They affixed plaques to destroyed and desecrated synagogues, and restored local cemeteries (often with the help of Jews who could read the Hebrew inscriptions). They figured out the places where Jewish people were deported from and where the barracks of nearby concentration subcamps were located. They also established an enormous network of contacts.

In many communities, Germans wrote letters to Jews who were forced to emigrate or had lost kin in the Holocaust. They wrote to get their stories. They wrote to help identify other Jews from the city, town, or neighborhood. And they wrote to invite them back. In large and small cities communities invited Jewish people to return for a “visitor week,” with the communities typically paying for travel and lodging. People gave speeches, wrote articles, and even books. Some local historians wrote about nefarious hometown Nazis. Other historians worked out the fate that befell local Jews, “members of our community,” as many Germans began to call them.

This German-version of the civil rights movement, if it may be called that, dramatically changed how people in the Federal Republic thought about their history and who belonged to it.

A small glimpse into what our heroic war veterans went through can be found in the seven-part Ken Burns documentary The War. It covers World War II from the perspective of the soldiers.

In the episode "When Things Get Tough," the narrator quotes Pulitzer Prize winning Bill Maulden, a cartoonist and writer for Stars & Stripes. It is an analogy written for those who have never fought in a war on the miseries and hardships of the American soldier, in this case with scenes from the Italian Campaign:

Dig a hole in your backyard while it is raining. Sit in the hole while the water climbs up around your ankles. Pour cold mud down your shirt collar. Sit there for 48 hours. So there is no danger of your dozing off, imagine that a guy is sneaking around waiting for a chance to club you on the head. Or set your house on fire.

Get out of the hole, fill a suitcase full of rocks, pick it up, put a shotgun in your other hand, and walk on the muddiest road you can find. Fall flat on your face every few minutes, as you imagine big meteors streaking down beside you. If you repeat this performance every three days, for several months, you may begin to understand why an infantryman gets out of breath. But you still won't understand how he feels when things get tough.

Biblical prophecy mentions huge numbers of horses in end time battles. Is this just a figure of speech or is there something more to it? A secular video produced by Not What You Think describes the practicality of using mules/horses in modern warfare. The video says:

Supply lines are crucial in modern warfare. Armies must supply their soldiers with weapons, ammunition, fuel, water, medicine, and equipment. Before you dismiss the idea of pack animals being used in modern battlefields, consider this: The Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA) spent $42 million dollars developing a robot packhorse known as Legged Squad Support System (LS3). The LS3 was supposed to help marines and soldiers carry up to 400 pounds of supplies. But it turned out to be a flop. Not only was its range limited by fuel, it would constantly break down, and worst of all it was (very) loud (making a loud noise like a motorcycle).

Mules are often called the AK-47s of logistics for their rugged utility. A mule costs only a few thousand dollars compared to ground tactical vehicles that can cost $350,000 dollars apiece. Pack animals can reliably carry hundreds of pounds of water, fuel, munitions, and equipment in terrain that is too difficult for motor vehicles to traverse. Compared to vehicles, mules are also harder to detect either optically, or with radar or infrared. Pack animals have been used for thousands of years. For example, during World War II, German logistics were supplied by more than 600,000 horses.

A big problem for ground vehicles is that they require fuel. And a lot of it. A defense science board estimates that by tonnage, as much as 70% of supplies needed to sustain army operations is fuel. And that’s a big problem. Modern weapons, such as drones and portable guided missile systems can destroy supply convoys in no time. The Russian experience in Ukraine is a perfect example of this. Pack animals don’t need fuel, as they can survive on water and forage for food in their environment. Relying on pack animals also reduces the need for spare parts and costly maintenance of ground vehicles.

The warfare of the future calls for simple, cheap, and portable platforms that do not need a decade to be designed and tested. The plan that is currently in the works is calling for the use of pack animals, such as mules and horses. Pack animals might be the best option for supply logistics in mountainous and wooded regions. Currently, the Marine Corps Mountain Warfare Training Center teaches marines and army special forces how to employ and care for pack animals. There are growing calls within the Pentagon to expand the use of pack animals in the future.

You can view the video here (time marker 4:23 to 7:56).

Possible Preaching Angle:

This interesting video supports the Bible prophecies that indicate that the battles of the end times will be carried out using horses (Rev. 19:18-19) and ancient weapons, such as bows and arrows and swords (Ezek. 38:4; 39:3, 9-10). Some Bible scholars believe that these references may simply be the best description the ancient prophet could give of modern warfare. But others say that these prophecies may indicate that due to the Antichrist’s peace treaty (Dan. 9:27, etc.) there will be universal disarmament (“unwalled, defenseless villages” Ezek. 38:11) and that the warfare of the last days will utilize non-tech weapon systems.