I f prophecy forecasting were a sport, it would have the same credibility as the Cleveland Browns winning every Super Bowl from now until eternity. For at least the last century and a half, preachers and “prophecy experts” have been setting dates for the Rapture like overeager cruise directors planning a voyage that never sails. The Latest Bust: September 23, 2025 This year’s big date was September 23 (or 24, depending on your time zone). A South African pastor named Joshua Mhlakela announced that Jesus told him directly this would be the day when believers would be “taken.”[1] TikTok and YouTube lit up with frantic “prophecy updates,” urging Christians to repent quickly or risk being left behind. Then September 23 came. And went. Nothing. Again. Media outlets ran with the post-mortems, some in mockery, others in pity. And just like every other failed prediction, excuses flooded in: the calendar was off, the feast day was misunderstood, or the rapture happened “spiritually.” If ...

I n every Charismatic or Pentecostal congregation I’ve attended, worship was thunderous, prophecy flowed freely, and spiritual experiences were the proof of a “vibrant faith.” These practices were presented as evidence of the ultimate truth. But for some believers, the same practices became fertile ground for religious psychosis—more accurately, psychosis with religious content—where hallucinations and delusions were shaped by faith itself. Psychosis is a medical condition involving a break from reality: hallucinations (such as voices), delusions (fixed false beliefs), and loss of insight. Religion doesn’t directly cause psychosis, but emotionally charged preaching and environments that encourage believers to hear God’s voice or fight unseen demons can worsen vulnerability and delay treatment ( Lloyd, Reid & Kotera, 2021 ). Psychosis with religious themes is not rare. Studies across cultures and diagnoses show that anywhere from 20-60% of deluded patients report religious content ...