What I Believe

[07/27/20]

I have repeatedly stressed the spiritual nature of this redemption life in the God Who Is.  God is Spirit (Jn 4:24a), and we are called to be a spiritual, precisely because “a natural man does not accept the things of the Spirit of God; for they are foolishness to him, and he cannot understand them, because they are spiritually appraised” (1Co 2:14).  Now there’s a verse that has seen some abuse.  It is amongst the first defenses of the false teacher.  He will point at your rejection of his message as evidence that you, poor soul, are not spiritual.  The mere acceptance or rejection of a given truth claim is not the evidence of spiritual appraisal, but rather the acceptance of God’s revealed Truth, and the rejection of all that would seek to displace that Truth. 

Neither is incomprehensibility the hallmark of the Christian message.  It is eminently comprehensible.  The rejection of the message does not come because it cannot be understood, but because it is willfully, vehemently suppressed in unrighteousness (Ro 1:18).  God has made His truth evident even within them (Ro 1:19), but the mind of the fallen refuses to see it.  The mind of the believer may also be subject to distraction, and thus, the inroads of false teaching from time to time.  It requires discipline, discernment, and being on the alert to steer clear of the falsehood and cleave to the pure Word of God.

So, with that in mind, what are we to say of this reformed body?  Well, one thing we can say with perfect confidence is that we are not yet in possession of this body.  Oh, there are stirrings afoot in the present day that would seek to convince the unwary believer that physical immortality is something for the here and now, and there are certainly efforts by those for whom the true immortality is a cause of dread to seek as they may to achieve physical immortality in the here and now.  But for neither the misguided believer nor the apprehensive unbeliever is this really going to be found viable.  The present physical plant simply is not up to the task, nor can it be made to be so.

As I was teaching the course on Colossians this spring, reference to the commentary of Mr. Ironside brought me up against this point repeatedly.  This body, dear ones, is simply not the point.  It is not fit for eternity, as Scripture makes clear repeatedly.   We’ll get to that in due course.  But our attention is not intended to be on this body.  That doesn’t mean we neglect it or seek to destroy the physical flesh.  That has been a recurring thought in the minds of those who would be pure in their own strength.  Whole movements arose early in church history that suggested exactly such a course.  We are to be spiritually minded?  Then, surely we must seek to give the physical plant and the physical world as little acknowledgement as is humanly possible.  We shall eat only what is entirely needful for survival.  We shall labor only as much as proves necessary for the shelter of the spiritual being inside.  We shall eschew every pleasure and experience of this present life and thus shall we be pure.  Yeah.  Except, that doesn’t work, and in fact, rather thumbs the nose at the good gifts of God.  But have a time.  In point of fact, this sort of thinking was rampant in the culture of the Colossians, and part of the reason Paul wrote what he did to that church.

At the same time, the fact remains that this body is not in any condition to be repaired and refit.  This is not in any wise the vessel that will carry us across the border into heaven.  Ironside would lay the blame, after a fashion, on the corrupting effects of sin on this present body.  It’s just too far gone, and it’s simply not in God’s plans to try and bring it up to snuff.  At this point, I’m still laying out the groundwork of an argument, painting with broad strokes.  It remains to present the biblical case for this perspective, and I will do so.

But as I think on this matter of a body too far gone to bother repairing, it does put me in mind of the series of restoration projects my wife and I have been watching of late.  Here are buildings centuries old – far nearer immortality than bodies of flesh, it must be said.  But they have been abandoned, in some cases for decades, and the lack of upkeep is showing.  Seemingly solid works, where they are still extent, prove to have rotten bones, as it were, and in some cases, the degree to which the work has had to be torn down and redone makes one wonder just what the point of ‘restoration’ was.  Indeed, so little remains of the original as to make the result effectively a new structure.  There may be a brick or two repurposed, a beam here and there that was rescued from the wreckage of the old structure, but really, it’s more an ode than a restoration.

Why do I bring this up?  I suppose the analogy is sufficiently plain to see.  This body, like those old derelict buildings, is a wreck.  Oh, as we mark out physical details in this life, it may look well enough.  We can, if we are inclined, obtain services to inject preservatives and keep the outward appearances ostensibly youthful.  I might question the success of those efforts, but we all know the examples of octogenarians and even nonagenarians wandering about looking far too vital for their age, and functional well past their proper expiration date.  Yet these efforts do not alter the fundamentals of their true estate.  The physical plant is crumbling within.  However much it may be propped up for a season, the fact remains that in due course, it shall return to dust.

Returning to my analogy, the condition of this body, even in its vibrant youth, is already so far gone as to render it beyond repair.  It would be too costly.  Again, referring to this series, there is a recurring question asked of those who take on such projects:  Wouldn’t it have been simpler and more economical to just build something new that suits your life?  Quite frankly, the honest answer has got to be yes, of course it would have been.  But emotions have got the best of them, and they’ve fallen in love with a building, and however much it may damage their lives and futures, they will see this work done.  They will leave their mark on the landscape, as it were.  They may feel they are knights of the kingdom, ensuring that the evils of time and erosion do not destroy this place from history; that future generations will at least be able to look upon it, if not actually make any much use of it.

God, however, is not driven by emotions.  He is purposeful.  He is not emotionless, to be clear.  He is full of compassion.  He is Love.  But He is purposeful.  He has had His purpose and His plan from before the dawn of creation, and He knows exactly how it goes.  In that plan, your present body has no permanent part.  It is a vessel, a tent.  It is a temporary dwelling.  There is a recurring image in Scripture, and applied to the temple of God.  The original temple was in point of fact a tent.  It was designed for temporary deployment in those places where Israel stopped for at time on her way to the Promised Land.  But even Solomon’s temple, while made of stone and sheathed in gold, proved just as temporary.  These were not houses that could contain God, certainly.  Neither were they permanent abodes to which He must inevitably return.  Herod’s temple fared no better.  Indeed, the very fabric of Creation will, in due course, prove temporary, however much grander the scale of temporary in its case.  Why would we suppose that these mortal bodies, declared temporary by their very mortality, and drawn from the dust of this temporary creation, could ever prove immortal?

[07/28/20]

Once more I must acknowledge with utmost appreciation the way in which God orchestrates my reading and study schedules such that passages of import to the topic here come to my attention elsewhere.  As is so often the case, it seems, I make reference to this morning’s Table Talk devotional which in fact has reference to the bodily resurrection of the saints.  The point of departure for that article is mention of Joseph in Hebrews 11, but this gives cause to consider a certain thread of events running through the Old Testament concerning the field in Hebron which Abraham purchased.  There was something significant about the purchase of this field, and about being buried there.  Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob and Leah; all of these were buried there.  In the case of Isaac and of Jacob, they took significant care to ensure that they were interred at that specific location.  For Jacob, it would be some four hundred years between his death and his interment, but he was determined that there he should be buried, and his sons and their descendants saw to it.

The question we may find it necessary to ask is why?  What was the significance of this determination to be buried in Hebron in the land of promise?  Surely, God is God wherever His people may be, and in whatever physical condition they may be found.  Was this, then, a concern about resurrection?  The act, as location in Hebrews 11 would suggest, is held forth as an expression of faith.  The article’s author goes so far as to indicate it as forward-looking faith held in recognition that God is the God of the living, as Jesus would later remind His listeners (Mt 22:32).  So, was there concern that God could not raise them to life if their bones were not there in that particular place?  I have to say that if this was indeed an expression of forward-looking faith, then no, it could not have been an expression of concern.  I incline to think it was a far more outwardly focused consideration on their part.  Their actions were undertaken not so much for their own future, for their future was settled.  Rather, it was as a visceral reminder to the following generations that God is faithful, and that His promises are certain.  The time would come.

This in turn led to consideration of Ezekiel 37 with his vision of the valley of dry bones.  The core of that passage is entirely familiar.  Here is a valley full of bones.  They are not buried, but on the surface, and they have clearly been there a good long time.  And the question comes.  “Son of man, can these bones live?” (Eze 37:3).  Ezekiel is called to prophesy to the bones, and God in turn declares that He will put flesh on the bones and breath in the bodies that they may come alive, “and you will know that I am the LORD” (Eze 37:6).  Ezekiel did as instructed, and God did as promised.  The bones came together, flesh formed on them, and in due course, the breath of life entered into them.  What’s going on here?  Well, the act, to be sure, is entirely symbolic, and this ‘exceedingly great army’ does not make any further appearance beyond being here for Ezekiel to see.  God offers explanation.  “These bones are the whole house of Israel; behold, they say, ‘Our bones are dried up, and our hope has perished.  We are completely cut off.’  Therefore prophesy, and say to them, ‘Thus says the LORD GOD, “Behold, I will open your graves and cause you to come up out of your graves, My people; and I will bring you into the land of Israel.  Then you will know that I am the LORD, when I have opened your graves and caused you to come up out of your graves My people.  And I will put My Spirit within you, and you will come to life, and I will place you on your own land.  Then you will know that I, the LORD, have spoken and done it,” declares the LORD’” (Eze 37:11-14).

So, what does this say to the reformation of the body?  Is it that the seed material of bones shall be required as a starting point for God’s reconstructive work?  I don’t think so.  Here, the more obvious picture is of a situation far more dire even than Israel’s assessment of their lot.  They thought their hope had perished.  Well, what hope could there be for these sun-seared bones scattered across the valley?  Yet, these bones were not beyond God’s power to restore to life.  The message is clear:  Neither is Israel.  The time may not be yet, but the time would come.  Death itself was no barrier to God completing His promises to His people.  This is what Abraham understood; what Isaac knew; what Jacob was sure of.  God is the God of the living, and that is something that goes far beyond mere flesh and blood.

For my part, I cannot read that promise God makes through Ezekiel without thinking of the scene at the death of Christ.  Matthew relays the image for us.  “And Jesus cried out again with a loud voice, and yielded up His spirit.  And behold, the veil of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom, and the earth shook; and rocks were split, and the tombs were opened; and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised; and coming out of the tombs after His resurrection they entered the holy city and appeared to many” (Mt 27:50-53).  Do you see it?  I’m sure Matthew’s intent was that those who read his gospel would.  “Behold, I will open your graves and cause you to come up out of your graves, My people; and I will bring you into the land of Israel.”

But, as the author of Hebrews observes, the land of Israel into which He brings them is not Jerusalem, although it seems they walked that city’s streets for a brief time, as further witness against those who would see and yet not believe.  The land in view was not a plot in the Middle East, but a place reserved in heaven.  The life that was in view was not a rerun of earthly existence, but a new existence in a new creation.

I have to confess that there are aspects of this matter of bodily reform and transformation that rather elude me, which I suppose is hardly a surprise.  I should tend to think it has eluded all who have considered it in any depth.  It is one thing to know that bodily reformation is coming.  It is quite another to claim any particular certainty as to what it shall entail.  I find two distinct threads of opinion even in the things I have reviewed in the last few days.  Ironside, as I observed yesterday, has effectively written off this body as lost, which would at least suggest a view of the resurrection body as something completely other, completely new, and I have to admit a great deal of sympathy with such a view.  Yet, if there is a bodily resurrection, that certainly suggests life breathed once more into the same body.  It is, after all, a re-surrection.

Here is where I begin to find significant cause for question, if not outright disagreement, with the idea that it is this current body that is resurrected and reformed.  How shall this work for those who have been cremated?  Or have they, as has in some ages been supposed, been excluded from the resurrection by their means of burial?  Why do you suppose they were burning heretics at the stake?  The very idea was that this would put such a one beyond hope of resurrection.  As if God is so limited in His scope, and so easily thwarted in His purposes!  Take it into our expanded understanding of the physical world, and even if we were to declare that God is certainly capable of gathering up the scattered ashes of those burnt bones to bring the body back together, we would eventually have to ask which body gets to have the components?  Given the millennia of history and the dead in every age amongst the faithful, surely many of those component atoms and molecules have been recycled and utilized by more than one body.  Does God so carefully orchestrate things that the molecules of a believer’s body are effectively retired from service upon his death, such that for the redeemed, there is no conflict of ownership?  I’m sure He could do so, but then, we should have to account for all the unredeemed as well, for the resurrection depicted by Scripture includes believer and unbeliever in its scope, if to very different ends.

What, then, do we have by which to form any sense of what’s to come?  Well, as prime example, we certainly have the resurrected Christ.  On the one hand, we have experiences like those of Mary relayed to us (Jn 20:14-17).  Stepping back from His empty tomb, Mary was rather was inconsolable, and understandably unclear about the nature of those she met.  I don’t suppose she recognized the angels for what they were, but rather supposed them mere mortals like herself.  Neither did she see Jesus as Himself, but took him for a gardener.  Sight of Him was not enough to produce recognition, nor even hearing His voice.  It wasn’t until He spoke her name that recognition dawned on her.  I don’t think it was something about her name that did the trick, but rather that Jesus had decided it was time she recognized Him.

The same can be said for those two on the road to Emmaus (Lk 24:13-31).  They walked with Jesus along the road for quite some distance; invited Him to dinner with them, and listened to Him expound from the prophets at length, and still they didn’t recognize Him.  Now, we have to assume, given their familiarity with events, that they had been with Jesus for some portion of His earthly ministry.  They do not appear to have been among the number of the Apostles, but they were clearly disciples, and clearly sufficiently involved to have been there with the Apostles in the days after Jesus was crucified.  They had heard the report from Mary and the others who went to the tomb.  They didn’t recognize Him, though.  One might presume that if Jesus, in His new resurrection body, still bore the marks of His crucifixion, that might be noticeable.  I should think holes through the hands might be somewhat evident during the course of their talk.  Yet it wasn’t until He broke bread and blessed it that, ‘their eyes were opened and they recognized Him’ (Lk 24:31).

[07/29/20]

At the same time, when we see Jesus appear to Thomas in John 20:24-29, those marks are very much clear.  What are we to make of this?  Whatever this new body of Jesus may be, it is clearly not the same physical body He had in earthly life.  That body could not simply pass through walls or locked doors to enter a room.  It was an ordinary human body required to abide by ordinary human limitations in such matters.  But here again we must strike a curious balance, mustn’t we?  For this same human body made its way across the Sea of Galilee without benefit of a boat.  So, at one level we might accept that in Jesus we were shown a body capable of far more than we generally surmise.  But I would propose the real news here, and particularly in Peter’s attempt to join Him on the waters, was not what the body was capable of, but what God is capable of, and by extension, what faith is capable of.  It really had nothing to do with the body.

I could point as well to the example of Philip who, after baptizing the Ethiopian eunuch, ‘found himself at Azotus’ (Ac 8:40), otherwise known as Ashdod.  Now, I don’t know what route would have been likely for one returning from Jerusalem to Ethiopia.  It might seem reasonable that one would simply head south, but then, the lands to the south grow rather arid, don’t they?  A coastal route might serve better, especially if that’s where the major trade routes came through.  So, Philip finding himself in Ashdod may simply have been where he was by the time these events transpired.  He had, after all, spent some significant chunk of time preaching to the eunuch.  On the other hand, we do  have the notice that “the Spirit of the Lord snatched Philip away; and the eunuch saw him no more, but went on his way rejoicing” (Ac 8:39).  I don’t wish to downplay the event as if I would deny the miracles surrounding both Jesus and the birth of the Church.  But my focus here isn’t really on the miracles.  It is on the body, and specifically the reformed body.

Jesus did in fact make rather miraculous entrance into the room where the disciples were effectively hiding.  “The doors were shut where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews” (Jn 20:18), but in spite of this, there came Jesus into their midst, saying, “Peace be with you.”  Here, again, the wounds were clearly visible on His body.  Yet, the body that had received those wounds was hardly of a nature that admitted of simply appearing in a closed room uninvited.  Add the detail from Luke 24:41-43, that He asked for and ate fish in their presence, and it’s clear this is no phantasm, but a true being with a true body.  This body, then, shares somewhat with the current model, and yet has capacities far and away beyond the current model.

One inference I might draw from the example of Jesus is that this new body is able to present differently depending on the need of the moment.  That is to say, as I think I have shown, that while His appearances to the Apostles, particularly these first encounters, clearly show Him bearing the marks of His crucifixion, we have also those cases with Mary and with the men on the road to Emmaus where it would seem any such visible marks would have rather more quickly brought about recognition.  We have also this to go on:  Jesus does not walk the earth further.  He is seated in heaven, where, so far as Scripture speaks, He remains until it is time for His triumphal return to bring His kingdom fully into fruition.   Does this preclude Him coming to visit various individuals over the course of history?  Is it possible that He has in some instances come personally to address this person or that, to further the course of His plans?  I can’t discount it as an utter impossibility, if only because nothing is impossible for God, and His doing so would present no insoluble contradiction in His being.  But neither do I see anything to suggest that any such visitation is in His plans.  The message has been delivered in full.  All that is needful has been made known.

Does He appear in dreams and visions still?  That’s a larger question, and one I am inclined to accept as possible, although I would observe that any number of claimed visitations were likely little more than vain imaginations and efforts to lend greater credence to one’s thoughts.  But God is certainly not beyond speaking.  I would maintain that my own conversion came with at least a few rather direct words, spoken into my thoughts in a fashion that precluded them being from some more normal source, and bearing such a message as had no place in my own thinking at the time.  Was it some new revelation?  To me, perhaps, but hardly to the body of Christian doctrine.  It was effectively an accessible declaration of Providence, and an invitation to test and see.

I could also appeal to the example of Pastor Sanford, from my youth.  Here was a missionary who had been in some interesting settings, not least in India at a rather dangerous time.  As must, I suspect, transpire with many a missionary, the isolation and the seeming lack of progress wore on him, and he questioned his being there.  Maybe it was time to accept that this had been a mistake and go home.  But there came a still, small voice, although perhaps not so very small, restoring his confidence, assuring him of God’s companionship, and the mission was in fact a significant success – significant enough that many decades later, as he ministered to his lifetime of associates from retirement, those who benefited from his ministry in India still sent word to him from time to time.  Truly, a marvelous man and a marvelous life lived for God.  And, to my current point, yes, at least on this one occasion, God spoke to him.  I can well imagine how surprised he was by the event, but there it was.

This, however, does not change the record of Scripture, and that record does by all appearances present us with Jesus ascended, and until that day when He appears in the clouds, with a glory so manifest that He is seen from all points at once, and there remains no need to ask is He here, is He there, it would seem He shall remain on His throne.  Were this not the case, there would have been little cause to send the Holy Spirit on His mission trip among man.  There’s plenty of room here for philosophical argumentation, I admit, for Jesus indwells us as much as does the Holy Spirit, and God being One, where any one Person is, we must surely accept that all the Persons are.  But we do have this unique assignment given the Holy Spirit to come as our advocate and tutor, to remind us of Jesus.  If we had this visceral presence of Jesus about us, what cause would we have for another to remind us?  But leave that.  I am interested in what this entails for our own experience of this bodily reformation.

For that, we have largely to depend on Paul.  I want to start with a verse I’ve had on deck for awhile now.  “It is not the children of the flesh who are children of God, but the children of the promise are regarded as descendants” (Ro 9:8).  Let me just combine that with something Jesus said to the religious authorities that were so offended by His entrance into Jerusalem.  They insisted He quiet His disciples, but He answered, “I tell you, if these become silent, the stones will cry out!” (Lk 19:40).  There is an echo there of something John the Baptist said which, if I am honest, I was ready to attribute to Jesus.  “Do not suppose that you can say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham for our father’; for I say to you, that God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham” (Mt 3:9).  That, in turn, relays the same message as Ezekiel received in the valley of dry bones, after a fashion.

Why do I bring this up?  Primarily because we have great need of being released from our bondage to this current flesh.  This is nothing new.  It’s an age-old issue.  We are not all that fond of change, and a change of body would rather epitomize change for us, wouldn’t it?  We’ve grown accustomed to this life, and the idea of something completely other, or so significantly other as eternal life shall be, is disquieting to say the least.  We may ooh and ahh at the idea of Enoch who was no more, or of Elijah who was taken up by chariot, but really, it’s far better as a tale involving somebody else.  I’m not sure we’d be so excited to discover ourselves in those events, at least not in our current condition.  There’s something we lose sight of in looking at these exceptional cases:  God didn’t change, nor were these men somehow free of the stain of sin.  The fact remained that to see God face to face must surely result in the death of the flesh.  They may not have seen it here on earth, but rest assured, they saw it.  The Elijah that came to visit Jesus on the mountain did not come in the same body with which he left Elisha’s company.  Moses did not show up in the same body that had been left to die across the Jordan.

We have, particularly in this health-conscious age in which we live, become entirely too attached to the current physical plant.  We look at it as if that is all there is, largely because it remains all we’ve ever known.  But Scripture, pretty much from start to finish, makes plain that this is not the sum of existence.  Job, generally taken as being the oldest writing of the Bible, has this to say:  “Even after my skin is destroyed, yet from my flesh I shall see God” (Job 19:26).  That ought to sound a contradiction to us, surely.  Skin and flesh are, after all, one and the same thing, even if we take a particularly medical view of the matter.  Yes, the skin might be said to consist solely of epidermis, and the flesh to include fatty tissues and muscle and whatever else is not directly bone.  But we still see them as relatively synonymous references.  Remove the epidermis, and the remaining fleshy material won’t be remaining for long.  Yet, here is Job saying that with skin removed, yet his flesh shall see God.  This is a confession of life beyond the grave.  The whole concept of Sheol, so prevalent in the Old Testament, is a confession of life beyond the grave, however poorly understood at the time.

[07/30/20]

Again I find Table Talk addressing the very topic this morning.  This matter of the flesh and the spirit does not require an outright rejection of every earthly pleasure, but it does reshape perspective.  It does present us with a new set of priorities.  I’ll take two sentences that rather summarizes the new perspective.  “Enjoying the good things we find in this world is not inherently wrong; the Lord often rewards those who fear Him with ‘riches and honor’.  Yet, partaking of the good things available in this world is a sin when we must reject God and His people to do so.”  That pretty well covers it.  And nowhere, perhaps, does this prove more challenging to us than in consideration of our physical body.  After all, it is this physical body, by and large, that enjoys the things of this world, good or bad.

We cannot consider the matter of the reformed body without looking to 1Corinthians 15.  Here, Paul stresses the critical importance of Christ not only dying for our sins, but also resurrected, ‘raised the third day according to the Scriptures’ (1Co 15:4).  The emphasis in that last clause is that fulfillment of the Old Testament prophecies required resurrection of the Messiah.  But the implication that follows from this is that so, too, does fulfillment require our own resurrection.    Paul spends a great deal of time establishing the reality of Christ risen, and witnessed in His risen state.  Indeed, this was the fundamental role of the Apostles, to witness to the risen Christ.  It would not suffice to speak of what He had done in life.  Any historian could do as much.  It would not accomplish much of anything to establish His innocence at death.  It might demonstrate some lawyerly skills, I suppose, but it would accomplish nothing.  No, the key message for the Apostles was the joyful news, “He is risen!”  For all the difficulty that Easter presents, what with its secular ties and commercialization by fallen man, it yet makes this most critical, most wonderful proclamation:  He is risen!  Take this away, and as Paul observes, Christianity is patent nonsense, a pointless exercise for all involved.

But look where Paul takes us before he reaches this conclusion.  “Now if Christ is preached, that He has been raised from the dead, how do some of you say that there is no resurrection of the dead?  But if there is no resurrection of the dead, not even Christ has been raised; and if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain, your faith also is in vain” (1Co 15:12-15).  You can’t have one without the other.  The implication of Christ risen is that resurrection is real, and is our certain hope. The implication of Christ not risen is a horror not to be complicated, for then, we remain dead in our sins, and no hope remains.  This, too, the apostle states explicitly.  “If the dead are not raised, not even Christ has been raised; and if Christ has not been raised, your faith is worthless; you are still in your sins” (1Co 15:16-17).  Woe is us, should this be the case.

But it is most vehemently not the case.  He is risen, and we shall be made alive (1Co 15:21).  And here, Paul introduces us to a compact picture of the event.  “But each in his own order; Christ the first fruits, after that those who are Christ’s at His coming, then comes the end, when He delivers up the kingdom to the God and Father, when He has abolished all rule and all authority and power” (1Co 15:23-24).  Death, he observes, must be abolished; the last enemy to be put in subjection under His feet (1Co 15:26).

Then, in relatively short order, Paul turns to the questions that still concern us so.  “But someone will say, ‘How are the dead raised?  And with what kind of body do they come?” (1Co 15:35).  Paul offers a brief discourse on the nature of bodies generally, and how they differ from creature to creature, from animal to plant to planet to star and so on.  All this to arrive at the portion most to the point for us.  “So also is the resurrection of the dead.  It is sown a perishable body, it is raised an imperishable body; it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body.  If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body” (1Co 15:42-44).

It is necessary to emphasize the last sentence here.  There is a significant distinction between the two.  There is a reason, I think, that Paul begins his preparation of the mind for this point by looking at the natural example of the seed.  “You do not sow the body which is to be, but a bare grain” (1Co 15:37).  What went into the ground bears little resemblance to that which arises, really.  What arises is so massively distinct as to leave one wondering if there is in fact a connection.  The connection will show in time, when the plant bears seed, and the cycle continues, but that takes us beyond the point of comparison Paul is providing.  His point is not the continuing cycle of life, and he's certainly not arguing for reincarnation.  But rather, he is strongly emphasizing the difference.

The heavenly body is different.  That much we can now state with utmost certainty.  If the example of Jesus wasn’t enough, I’m not sure this will be, but the point is no longer something to be inferred from historical reference.  It is stated as doctrinal truth.  “Now I say this, brethren, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God; nor does the perishable inherit the perishable.  Behold, I tell you a mystery; we shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet; for the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed.  For this perishable must put on the imperishable, and this mortal must put on immortality” (1Co 15:50-53).

So:  A few things to be observed carefully here.  First, there is the absolute necessity of this new, imperishable body.  It’s that or forego inheritance, for without the new body, the new kingdom cannot be entered.  This present body is unfit.  It is unfit in its sinful spoilage.  It is unfit in its finitude.  It is, quite frankly, unfit as a tent for the reformed spirit within, in the same manner we would consider a pup tent perhaps well and good for a brief woodland excursion, but utterly unfit as a permanent dwelling.  It is hardly the sort of place we would present for our bride-to-be to come live if only she will abide with us for life.

Second, there is the matter of this mystery.  The mystery lies not in that what Paul says can’t be understood.  It lies, as it usually does with Paul’s use of the term, in that what he is now saying is not something that has previously been made clear in Scripture.  It’s there to be found, but it hasn’t been understood until now.  What is this new bit of information?  The key message is this:  Whether dead and in the grave or still upright and walking when He returns, the outcome is the same for this present body.  It’s done.  We shall all be changed.  And I must observe also, that key to his message is this point:  Dead or alive, the timing of this event is exactly the same:  When the trumpet sounds.  Any idea that we can attain to immortality in this life ought to be seen for the patent nonsense it is.  Whatever marvels of longevity (assuming longevity proves to be marvelous) man might achieve, by whatever means, the simple fact remains:  This body is destined for the slag heap.

The question remains, I suppose, whether this new body bears any recognizable relationship to the body that we have at present.  The argument for continuity of form seems to rest primarily on the example of Jesus showing Thomas His wounds, but as I have observed already, there were other occasions where those wounds were not in evidence, at least so far as we can discern by the response of those who saw Him.

But it seems to me that several problems arise from such an idea.  Not least, as I have already discussed, there is the matter of material supply.  Eventually, one runs out of matter from which to recompose the existing bodies of every person to ever have existed.  Even dust runs out at some point.  Add to this the promise that comes at the end of the Scriptures.  “And He shall wipe away ever tear from their eyes; and there shall no longer be any death; there shall no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away” (Rev 21:4).  I’ll focus in on that matter of pain.  If there remains no pain, it would seem to stand to reason that there remain no wounds or injuries, either, for these are often the cause of pain.

If we are to enter into a new life devoid of the pains that we have known in this life, and yet we remain in a body tightly connected to the present form, what age of body do we suddenly find ourselves in?  Is it a return to our fittest time here?  Even that, I should think, might be sub-optimal for many.  We could add the point Jesus observes, that in heaven we are not living in the same way.  “For in the resurrection they neither marry, nor are given in marriage, but are like angels in heaven” (Mt 22:30).  That might be supposed to imply an elimination of sexual markers on the body.  I don’t know that one would want to stake his future on that idea, but as marriage provides a pure setting for the pursuit of sexual pleasure, elimination of marriage would suggest eliminate of said pleasure, and that, done without elimination of those distinctives that tend to give rise to our passions, would seem a thing most cruel.  But, then, we do not fully understand the nature of this transformation; only that what results is something quite different than what we know now.

I have to say that the evidence suggests something far more than simply an erasure of the effects of aging.  Jesus walking through walls was not a matter of antioxidants.  It was an entirely different sort of body, a different sort of nature.  He had not ceased to be wholly Man.  Let’s get that out of the way.  It’s not that He returned to being God without any further reference to His humanity, and therefore, as God is Spirit, He could do these things once more.  His body was transformed.  It was a new body, of a new and eternal nature, fitted out for heavenly eternity.  It had new capabilities unknown to the old body.  Could we say, like the seed, that these capabilities were latent in the old body?  Perhaps, but like the seed, there is no way to bring those latent features into fruition apart from the death of that old body, so I’m not sure I see any great significance to their latent presence in the here and now.  However this all works, those new features are not accessible in the current, mortal model.

What are we left with?  We know this new body shall be immortal, as it must be.  It shall be restructured so as to no longer age.  Age, I should think, is something that completely loses meaning.  I suspect, although I cannot say with full assurance, that we shall discover that sex is also something that completely loses meaning.  We can also say that this new body shall be clothed in righteousness even as our reformed soul is already clothed in righteousness.  We can further say that come that glorious day when our transformation is fully and finally completed, we shall have no cause to sorrow for what has been left behind.  We shall have entered into the wedding feast of the Lamb, and we shall know ourselves properly attired in the pure white robes of righteousness which are our wedding clothes (Mt 22:11).  All fear is gone, for perfect Love, embodied in our Lord and Savior, has cast out all fear (1Jn 4:18).

This is our certain hope and our certain future.   Though our flesh may be destroyed, yet with our eyes – albeit transformed – we shall see God.  Efforts to somehow associate that with present day experience demonstrate a mind still too set on the things of earth, rather than the things of heaven.  You can dress it up any way you like, but to expect this body to somehow persist unto eternity is to demonstrate a rather complete rejection of what God has declared on the matter.  The examples of Enoch, of Elijah, or even of Melchizedek do nothing to counter the point.  “We shall all be changed” remains the fundamental reality.  We must, for Scripture being God-breathed cannot contradict itself, accept that the truth of “this mortal must put on immortality” requires that somewhere between earth and heaven, even these illustrious examples underwent transformation.  Somehow, in the timelessness of eternity, their moment, though recorded here as history past, remains a matter of our future experience, that moment when the last trumpet sounds.  That, I confess, is a paradox I cannot fully unravel, but the time for one and all shall in fact prove a singular point, although I am not quite sure we could then speak of it as a point in time, for what is time in the scope of eternity, in a realm outside of time?