A South African pastor’s viral claim that he knows the exact date Jesus will return has ricocheted across social media and into mainstream discussion, triggering a wave of denunciations from theologians, church leaders and Christian commentators who insist that predicting the day of the Second Coming violates both scripture and centuries of Christian teaching. The claim, amplified in multiple online interviews and reposted across platforms over the past week, asserts that Jesus will return on September 23–24, dates the preacher links to Rosh Hashanah, also known as the Feast of Trumpets. Within hours of the clips circulating, pastors in the United States, the United Kingdom and Southern Africa issued statements urging Christians to reject date-setting and to exercise discernment, while large evangelical channels posted counter-videos reminding audiences that the New Testament says “no one knows the day or the hour.”
The pastor at the center of the storm, identified in videos as Joshua Mhlakela, says he experienced a divine vision in which Jesus told him the specific dates. In one widely shared interview he recounts that he “heard Him very loud and clear,” and in a separate clip he states: “He said to me on the 23rd and 24th of September 2025, ‘I will come back to the Earth.’” The phrasing has been repeated in posts viewed millions of times, often paired with captions pointing to the autumn festival calendar and to end-times passages in the Bible that some readers associate with trumpet imagery and a final gathering of believers. In turn, audiences skeptical of prophecy videos have stitched the clips with verses from the Gospels warning believers not to follow anyone who claims privileged knowledge of the timetable for Christ’s return.
What transformed the prediction from a niche claim into a global flashpoint was the platform effect: short-form video accounts specializing in “prophecy updates” and “signs of the times” seized on the pastor’s statement and then added their own montages of headlines, wars, earthquakes and astronomical events. The current month happened to include a reddish full moon in parts of the world, quickly labeled a “blood moon” in video titles, and creators used that imagery to echo passages from Joel and Revelation that are often invoked in popular eschatology. Meanwhile, other Christian creators pushed back just as aggressively, producing explainer videos with titles like “Bible Truth vs Viral Claims” and “Why People Are Saying the Rapture Is September 23–24—and Why That’s Not How Scripture Works,” seeking to recenter audiences on traditional doctrine about watchfulness without date-setting.
Within denominational structures, the challenge for leaders has been how to respond without inadvertently amplifying the claim. Several pastors in large, mainstream congregations addressed the matter during weekend services or midweek livestreams with a consistent message: throughout church history, specific predictions about the day or hour have repeatedly failed; Christian discipleship calls for readiness at all times rather than fixation on a calendar; and believers should measure any teaching by whether it accords with the whole counsel of scripture. Some pointed congregants to the context of the Gospel verses most frequently quoted in viral clips, arguing that the passages about trumpets and gathering are meant to inspire hope and perseverance, not to serve as a codebook for decoding exact dates.
The online reaction split into familiar camps. Those inclined to follow end-times countdowns treated the pastor’s claim as either confirmation of what they already suspected or as a welcome prompt to spiritual preparation. Others responded with fatigue, recalling previous viral cycles that came and went without incident, from the widely publicized “blood moon” prophecies of 2015 to various Rapture forecasts tied to numerology or astronomical alignments. In threads on Christian forums and in the comment sections of the videos now trending, users traded lists of failed predictions, sometimes with a weary tone, sometimes with sharp criticism of ministries that repeatedly set dates and then move the goalposts when those dates pass.
The current flashpoint also intersects with a broader media environment saturated by war footage, political turmoil and economic anxiety—conditions that social scientists say can make apocalyptic content more attractive. Media researchers note that viral eschatology thrives in periods of perceived instability, when audiences feel a loss of control and turn to narratives that present events as part of an unfolding plan. The Feast of Trumpets provides a ready-made frame for such narratives because it is a real date on the Jewish liturgical calendar with biblical roots and trumpet imagery. In the hands of online creators seeking clicks, that frame becomes a hook: the real festival becomes the stage for a speculative countdown, which then feeds on algorithmic reinforcement as platforms serve users more of what they just watched.
Pastoral responses emphasize the distinction between the substance of Christian hope and the practice of predicting dates. Clergy who addressed the issue in sermons and livestreams this week stressed that orthodox Christianity has always affirmed that Christ will return—what historic creeds summarize as “He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead.” The dispute is not about whether Christians expect a return but about whether anyone can, or should claim to, name the day. Leaders reminded congregants that the earliest generations of Christians anticipated an imminent return and yet were instructed to live faithfully in ordinary vocations, caring for the poor, praying, worshipping, and bearing witness—none of which requires a date on a calendar.
The structure of the viral claim also drew scrutiny from theologians. In interviews they noted that tying a date to a festival can carry rhetorical power because it feels anchored in sacred time rather than in arbitrary numerology. But they warned that such anchoring can be misleading when it implies a one-to-one correspondence between the calendar of Israel’s feasts and future events in a detailed end-times schedule. Scholars pointed out that the New Testament authors interpret the feasts primarily in light of what they see as already fulfilled in Jesus—Passover in his death, Firstfruits in his resurrection, Pentecost in the outpouring of the Spirit—without supplying a timetable for the future feasts. That, they say, is precisely why Christian tradition resists claims that the remaining feasts map onto specific dates for the end of history.
The pastor’s defenders argue that dismissing the claim out of hand risks ignoring the possibility of genuine prophetic experience. They contend that throughout scripture and church history there are moments when individuals receive warnings or dreams that turn out to be significant. In their view, public reaction to the current videos reveals an institutional defensiveness that treats all personal revelation as suspect. Critics of that defense reply that the test of a claimed revelation is whether it lines up with teachings considered foundational, and that repeated date-setting fails that test. They also worry about pastoral harm if believers make life-altering choices based on a countdown that does not materialize—quitting jobs, spending savings, or cutting ties with family members who refuse to accept the timeline.
A common theme in the countermessaging has been the pastoral responsibility to protect the vulnerable from spiritual manipulation. Counseling ministries reported hearing from congregants who were anxious, not because they oppose hope in Christ’s return, but because they fear being duped by sensationalism or shamed for asking questions. In those settings, ministers tried to reframe the conversation around practices that have always marked Christian readiness: reconciliation with God and neighbors, ethical living, service to others, and engagement in community. They emphasized that such readiness is not a sprint to a deadline but a steady way of life. Lay leaders running youth groups and college ministries said they confronted a wave of students who had seen the videos and wanted to know whether they should prepare for a specific date; the leaders’ advice was to keep studying, keep working, and keep praying.
The episode also prompted reminders of how often predictions have come and gone. Older Christians recalled reading pamphlets in the 1980s and 1990s that attempted to compute the Rapture from geopolitical events, while some mentioned the buzz around the turn of the millennium and the years following the 9/11 attacks. Pastors who came of age during those cycles said the lesson they drew was that sensational timelines rarely produce durable faith. Instead, they tend to produce whiplash cycles of excitement followed by disappointment, and sometimes disillusionment. That is why, these leaders say, they are determined to address the current claim head-on, not by mocking those who are earnest and fearful, but by insisting on a mature approach to Christian hope.
In congregations where the question surfaced during midweek Bible studies, the most pointed inquiries were practical: what should a Christian do if a loved one is enthralled by the videos and counting down to the dates? Ministers recommended gentle engagement rather than confrontation, steering conversations toward the centrality of Christ rather than toward endlessly debating calendars. They warned against ridiculing friends or family who share the videos, since humiliation can entrench belief, and encouraged people to invite those loved ones into healthy communities where hope is nurtured without sensationalism. At the same time, they cautioned that churches must be willing to call out grifters who monetize fear with merchandise and paid “prophecy conferences,” distinguishing sincere but mistaken believers from opportunists who see panic as a revenue stream.
The platform dynamics remain a complicating factor. Even as structured ministries attempt to tamp down the frenzy, an array of accounts with large followings continue to push countdown content, some of it recut from older predictions and rebranded with the new dates. Because the videos often include genuine biblical passages, they can feel authoritative to viewers unfamiliar with how those texts have been interpreted across centuries. Church educators responded by posting accessible primers on how to read apocalyptic literature—explaining symbolism, context, and the diversity of views among Christians about the order and nature of end-times events. While those primers do not trend as quickly as sensational predictions, some have gained traction as believers seek resources to help friends and family think more carefully.
In the days since the claim went viral, the pastor who made it has faced increasing scrutiny from reporters and rival ministries. Questions circulating online include the location and leadership structure of his congregation, his ordination and accountability, and whether he has made prior dated predictions. Supporters counter that focusing on his resume is an attempt to discredit the message rather than to test it. The practical reality, however, is that the credibility of a messenger matters in communities built on trust—particularly when a claim carries potential consequences for family decisions, finances and mental health.
For now, there is no sign that the viral cycle will abate before the dates arrive. As those days approach, churches are preparing for pastoral care in multiple scenarios. If nothing unusual occurs, leaders anticipate a pastoral aftermath in which disappointed believers may feel embarrassed, angry or spiritually adrift; they plan to emphasize grace, stability and a return to ordinary rhythms. If global events unrelated to the prophecy dominate the news that week, leaders fear that bad-faith actors may attempt to co-opt those developments to claim partial fulfillment and extend the countdown, a pattern familiar from previous cycles. In either case, ministers say their duty is the same: to shepherd people through fear toward faith expressed in love of God and neighbor.
At the heart of the matter is a simple tension baked into Christian belief from the beginning. The faith announces both that Christ will return and that believers must not presume to control the timeline. It asks its adherents to live in expectant hope without surrendering to frenzy, to be watchful without being gullible, and to take comfort in promises without seizing on speculations. The latest viral prediction has exposed how difficult that balance can be in an age of algorithm-driven attention and spiritual entrepreneurs who thrive on urgency. Yet it has also drawn forth thousands of quiet voices—pastors in local parishes, lay leaders in small groups, parents at dinner tables—who are reminding those around them that the deepest forms of readiness look ordinary: repentance, reconciliation, prayer, work done well, care for the vulnerable, and a steady refusal to let fear dictate the shape of a life.
As the highlighted dates near, the fever will likely intensify online. Some will hold their breath; others will shrug and get on with their day. Church leaders will keep repeating the lines they have said in every age: Jesus will return; live ready; stop chasing dates; love God and neighbor; and do not let your heart be troubled. When the moment passes, their counsel will not change, because it was never built on a calendar.