“The odds have risen.”
In the online betting universe, “odds” provide a measure of the probability of a particular outcome. The higher the odds, the lower the probability of an event occurring. The more people bet in the same direction, the more the odds change. Odds represent the collective desire of a group of people turned into a number.
“Will Jesus return this year?” a recent ad in Polymarket, one of the largest global platforms for predictive markets, asked. The response of people betting placed the odds at just 4 percent. For that company, the second coming of Christ had become one more gambling opportunity—with buying, selling, and tracking of variations.
I found the ad shocking for what it says about the market, but also for what it says about us.
Betting on Everything
The phenomenon of betting is not new, but its current scope is historically unprecedented. According to Statista, a global data-as-a-service company, the global sports betting market is expected to surpass US$88 billion in 2026 and 106 billion by 2030.[1] Against those figures, the social consequences of gambling are becoming ubiquitous: slashed family income, humongous debt, and increasing addiction.
What Polymarket shows, however, is a more sophisticated stage of the phenomenon. Gambling has now reached not only sports but elections, natural disasters, court decisions, and deaths of public figures. Everything becomes a prediction market. Everything has odds. Uncertainty, which historically was the natural habitat of faith and hope, ends up being colonized by financial logic. It has become a product.
Betting on the Second Coming
When the Bible-based belief in the second coming of Jesus also becomes one more thing to bet on, the issue transcends theology to become anthropological. Let’s refresh the numbers, because the most revealing data of the ad is not the 4 percent but the 96 percent of participants who are so positive Jesus will not return soon that they have bet money on it. The secular world not only lives in disbelief—it also bets on the absence of Jesus. People are betting, hoping the promise will not be fulfilled.
The apostle Peter already described this spirit many centuries ago. “Scoffers will come in the last days,” he wrote, “saying, ‘Where is the promise of His coming?’ ” (2 Peter 3:3, 4). The difference is that in Peter’s day scoffers spoke. Today they bet.
What About Us?
Predictive markets work by adding expectations. The odds measure not an objective probability but rather the collective desire of the participants expressed in real money. It is, in essence, a thermometer of how much people believe and want something to happen.
With this in mind, what would the odds of Christianity’s desire for Jesus’ return be? What would the odds of the Second Coming affecting our decisions and reorganizing our daily priorities be?
Paul Tillich described authentic faith as an “ultimate concern,” something that fills the center of existence unconditionally.[2] The question for the Christian should not be “Do you believe in the return of Jesus?” but rather “How much do you want Him to return?”
This distinction is fundamental. Doctrinal belief and existential desire are not the same thing. We can affirm Jesus’ return with theological precision and, at the same time, live as if His second coming were the least of our concerns. When that happens, our spiritual odds, the invisible thermometer of our true longing, fades away without us even noticing it.
The Number That Really Matters
Adventist hope was built on the concept of Maranatha—the Aramaic expression meaning “the Lord is coming.” Together with John the revelator, we say, “Even so, come, Lord Jesus!” (Rev. 22:20).
These statements are not sustained by calculations in an AI-powered platform. On the contrary, they are powered by love, conviction, and historical faith. The pioneers did not bet on the return of Christ as an assumption. They waited with the urgency of those who know God and His Word deeply.
Bettors are 96 percent certain that Christ is not coming soon. We need to be 100 percent certain He is, not as a reaction to the skepticism of others, but because we have something that the betting world cannot value. “And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again” (John 14:3). There are no odds capable of apprehending such a statement. It is not a probability. It is a certainty with a name, with a voice, and with a date engraved in God’s own heart.
Not Just Another Belief
The return of Jesus is not just another item among our core beliefs. It’s the heartbeat that should inform everything we do. It is what separates our message from any other in the religious arena. And that message should lead us to wake up every morning with purpose and go to bed every night with peace.
Against that background, we can’t afford to showcase low odds. Not now, when the world around us seems to be disintegrating. Every event that shakes the bases of civilization—geopolitical tensions, technological acceleration, moral disorientation—is one more piece of information on the chart that points to the same outcome. And we have in our hands an understanding that the world simply does not possess.
So let’s raise our odds. Let’s live as people actively waiting. May your Maranatha not just be a nice closing expression but the highest and most ardent conviction of your heart.
“Even so, come, Lord Jesus.”
The original version of this story was posted on the Portuguese language South American Division news site.
[1] https://www.statista.com/outlook/amo/gambling/sports-betting/worldwide#revenue
[2] Paul Tillich, Dinâmica da Fé (São Paulo: Paulinas, 1987), p. 306.
