We come to the climax of Paul's longest reflection on the significance of bodily resurrection in 1 Corinthians 15. Though Paul's text is dense, it does follow a logical flow.

Paul hopes to unite the divided Corinthian church by calling its members to return to their first foundation: the gospel. The gospel is summarized in the early creed that Paul both "received" and "passed on": "Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures, and that he was buried, and that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve" (1 Corinthians 15:3-5).

To Paul, this gospel is of "first importance." Everything else is secondary in significance to the foundational message of Jesus' death, burial, and resurrection. The reason for this is quite simple: There is no gospel without resurrection. The hope of resurrection is at the heart of the good news. If there is no resurrection of the dead - as some in the Corinthian church were claiming - then Christ himself has not been raised from the dead (1 Corinthians 15:12-19).

Paul then explains the significance of Jesus' resurrection in relation to humanity: "For since death came through a human being, the resurrection of the dead has also come through a human being; for as all die in Adam, so all will be made alive in Christ" (1 Corinthians 15:21-22). Our destiny is connected to Christ's victory. Christ's resurrection is the guarantee of our resurrection, for Christ is the "first fruits" of a much greater harvest of resurrections in the future.

This is a significant shift in the Jewish understanding of resurrection. The Jews expected a general resurrection of the dead at the end of this present age, ushering in a new age of the Spirit, resulting in the restoration and renewal of all creation. In Jesus' resurrection, the age to come - the age of the Spirit and new creation - has actually broken into the present evil age. We have seen a glimpse of the end in the resurrection of Jesus. The future age now penetrates into the present. At the consummation of all things, the "last enemy, death" will be completely conquered in the general resurrection (1 Corinthians 15:20-28).

Having established the new order of things in Christ, Paul then defends the bodily resurrection against those who, due to their Greek assumptions, found the idea offensive and unappealing. He argues that God is able - like a seed to a full-grown tree - to transform our present perishable and weak bodies into imperishable, glorious bodies suited for life in God's immediate presence. There is continuity with our present existence in that we ourselves are changed. There is also discontinuity, in that we are changed into a new incorruptible body fashioned by God for eternity. The resurrection of Jesus is proof that God is able to raise the dead, to bring new life from ashes, to bring hope from hopelessness.

Having established the how, Paul now addresses the final question, When will this final transformation occur?

The Final Transformation (1 Corinthians 15:50-56)

In its fullest expression, the kingdom of God consists of eternal life experienced in an imperishable resurrected body in a cosmos purged of sin and death. Flesh and blood, as we now experience it in its temporality, weakness, and corruptibility, cannot inherit this imperishable reality. In order to dwell in God's immediate presence in a renewed creation, our perishable mortal bodies must "put on imperishability and immortality." The reason is simple (and yet, we tend to forget this): Our frail, sinful, mortal human bodies cannot survive God's immediate holy presence. It is the grace of Christ manifest through his incarnation and resurrection that has now sanctified humanity. Our

transformed body is not merely "flesh and blood" (15:50) because it has been changed from one kind of glory to another. It has been transformed from the glory ("image") of Adam, representing mortal earthly existence, into the glory ("image") of Christ,, "the man of heaven," representing immortal existence (15:45-49).[1]

Though we are slowly being transformed into Christ's image in the present, we await complete transformation into Christ's likeness in the future (1 John 3:2). This final transformation occurs "in a moment," "in the twinkling of an eye," "at the last trumpet":

Transformation at the last day is not a long process of change; it takes place in a flash. The Greek word denotes what is the smallest conceivable moment of time (atomon, "indivisible"). The metaphor of the last trumpet underlines the instantaneous character of the event: a sudden signal announces a new situation; for example, it awakens a sleeping army in an instant. The army leaps to its feet in readiness for immediate action.[2]

Paul argues that this final transformation will occur in the context of real human history. The last generation will not experience death but will, along with the dead, be transformed at the consummation of all things. The great "mystery" is that God will, in an instant, completely restore and renew our humanity to be suited to dwell in God's immediate presence in new creation. Our mortal life will be taken into eternity, transformed in glorious likeness to Christ's resurrection body. "Eternal life is not a different life from this one. It makes this life here different, by taking this mortal life into the divine life, in which it is transfigured and made immortal."[3]

By arguing in this manner, Paul exposes a Corinthian error. Some triumphalists in the Corinthian community claimed that they had "arrived" - that they were presently experiencing resurrection. Paul proves that no one can say that they have arrived. No one has arrived because we all await a final transformation. And no one will arrive apart from a final act of grace at Christ's return when "He will transform the body of our humiliation that it may be conformed to the body of his glory, by the power that also enables him to make all things subject to himself" (Philippians 3:21)

We should not underestimate God's power to bring salvation and transfigure our humanity in an instant. Is God transcendently powerful? Certainly, God is able, and the resurrection of Christ proves that God is willing to completely transform our bodies to be fit instruments to dwell in the immediate presence of God's glory.

This is the goal to which all our strivings lead. Without this goal, our faith journey is futile. One must have a destination or our journey is in vain. The goal is complete transformation into the likeness of Christ. Like all transformation, the source of our transformation is not our own actions, but God's grace at work through the Spirit. This final transformation, is completely and utterly a work of God's grace.  

This goal is the fulfillment to which all God's purposes lead. For this reason, Paul writes, "When this perishable body puts on imperishability, and this mortal body puts on immortality, then the saying that is written will be fulfilled: 'Death has been swallowed up in victory'" (1 Corinthians 15:54).

The Hebrew tradition personified the grave and death as possessing insatiable appetites (see Isaiah 5:14; Habakkuk 2:5; Proverbs 27:20; 30:15-16). Paul provides an interesting play on this metaphor. Instead of the grave "swallowing" us alive, the Lord reverses the curse of the grave by swallowing up death forever (see Isaiah 25:8). This redemptive act allows Paul to taunt death with defiance: "Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" (1 Corinthians 15:55). Because we know "the rest of the story" in Jesus, death has lost its horror. Its bite is no longer mortal. Its venom is no longer poisonous. The sting of the scorpion's tail no longer is final.

Sin, death, and evil, which are linked together by the Hebrew scriptures, are drained of their power in the face of immortal life. All three have been subdued by Christ. Death is no longer the final word. Life is! In the new creation, the veil of death which covered all people is removed (Isaiah 25:6-10). Finally, God's promise is fulfilled: "Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away" (Revelation 21:4). God "makes all things new" (Revelation 21:5).

The Death of Death

The gospel of Christ's death and resurrection holds two truths in tension: (1) Death is a serious enemy, indeed, our ultimate enemy, and (2) Death has been conquered in Christ. Death is taken seriously - it is a great evil that causes great pain and suffering - but it is not viewed as the ultimate end.

In our enlightened age, death is still an enemy. No matter how modern or progressive or postmodern we become, we cannot escape this pervasive problem. For this reason, it is incredible to me that some Christians actually believe that we need to discard the ancient gospel of Jesus' death and resurrection for something "more appealing" to modern sensitivities.

In my opinion, we too easily capitulate to our secular culture. By attempting to make the gospel appealing to the secular, enlightenment mind which privileges reason above all things, we lose God, transcendence, and ultimately, salvation. This is a useless and empty move to make. It intentionally attaches the gospel to enlightenment philosophy. And enlightenment thought acts as a parasite on the gospel, draining it of its lifeblood and vitality. Postmodern thought has, thankfully, forever removed the so-called objectivity of the secular mind. Complete objectivity does not exist - even to those who are committed to the primacy of reason. Everyone is biased. Everyone - including those who deny the transcendent - approach the scriptures with metaphysical assumptions, even when these assumptions deny metaphysics altogether.

Resurrection challenges our metaphysical worldview at its most fundamental level. There is no doubt that Paul assumes that to deny the reality of the resurrection is to abandon the gospel. He does not view resurrection as an abstract ideal, but as a concrete reality. This is not a matter of reading the Bible "literally." Truth be told, there is no other way to read the Bible than to read it as literature. A literal hermeneutic assumes that metaphors and similes are used. It also assumes that narratives related to real history are presented. And the scriptures clearly present the resurrection as real history. One is not being simplistic or a fundamentalist by reading the resurrection accounts as though they refer to concrete realities that call for concrete changes in our thinking. As N. T. Wright observes, "part of getting used to letting Easter change your life, your attitudes, your thinking, your behavior--is getting used to the cosmology that is now unveiled."[4]

We can, if we wish, interpret Paul to be speaking about only the idea of resurrection, but this would be, in my opinion, to completely misread him. For Paul, the resurrection is real. To lose bodily resurrection - of Christ, and then, in the future, of humanity - is to lose the Gospel.

In my experience, death remains the fundamental human problem. It is a great enemy, a great evil, and it is intrinsically related to human sin. Death is the ultimate threat to human existence, flourishing, and well-being. Simply consider, like David Needham does, our lives in miniature, and the appalling horror of death is obvious: 

On that day [the day Adam and Eve disobeyed] the dying process began--they became mortal, embraced by death... Think about human life for a moment, at its best and at its worst. Try picturing a tiny baby in her mother's arms. So soft, so lovable. Picture her again a couple of years later with the sun in her hair. Chubby little hands, sparkling eyes, tiny nose, delicate smile, spontaneous laugh, running across the lawn and calling out, "Daddy's home." Or look at any little boy, four years old, hanging upside down from his swing, wondering why the world looks so strange. Freckles, holes in his jeans, baseball cards--so fully alive! Fifteen years later--so beautiful, so handsome, so expectant. And then... long years, stress, illness, surgeries, wrinkles, pain, sorrow, stooping, decay, dim eyes, the wheelchair, white sheets, jumbled words, a final gasp, death, a box... a grave. That final offense against the imagers of God.[5]

Pascal offers a reflection that is even more brutal and shocking:

Just imagine a number of men in chains,
and all condemned to die,
some of whom each day have their throats cut before the eyes of others.
Those who remain see their own condition in that of their fellows
and observing one another with grief and without hope, await their turn.
That is the image of the human condition.

In one sense, every villain of every story - whether real or imagined - represents death embodied. Every villain is a threat to human existence, human flourishing, and human well-being. Whether the villain is decay, disease, disability, or destruction, it is true that, in the end, the villain's true identity is that of death - death personified.

Perhaps the reason we do not see this as clearly as we should is because we moderns enjoy much longer lives and better living conditions than any generation in the past. Since we tend to lead long lives in relative ease and comfort, we say of those who passed away, "They lived a good long life."

But what about all the people throughout history and indeed, in the present, who live short lives in desperate circumstances and inhumane conditions? What of the victims of injustice? What of those who barely have a chance to live at all? A series of visits in cancer wards, aids clinics, hospices, and children's hospitals should convince us that death is a demonic foe.

We too easily forget that resurrection is a subversive, revolutionary idea connected to the proclamation of God's justice: "The dominant argument for resurrection in the Jewish tradition, however, was primarily about justice-- the idea that some people so obviously don't get a fair shake in this life that they are due further reward or punishment--and about the conviction that God is ultimately in charge of things."[6]

Consider the reflections of Joni Tada, who became a quadrapalegic at a very young age due to a swimming accident. Her reflections on the significance of resurrection are profound:

I can scarcely believe it, I with shrivelled, bent fingers, atrophied muscles, gnarled knees, and no feeling from the shoulders down, will one day have a new body, light, bright, and clothed in righteousness--powerful and dazzling. Can you imagine the hope this gives someone spinal cord-injured like me? Or someone who is cerebral palsied, brain-injured, or who has multiple sclerosis? Imagine the hope this gives someone who is manic depressive. No other religion, no other philosophy promises new bodies, hearts and minds. Only in the Gospel of Christ do hurting people find such incredible hope.[7]

I encountered this contagious hope firsthand. In the first church I served in for over ten years, we had a thriving ministry to the disabled. During our second service, a whole section was always filled with people suffering mental and physical disabilities, many of them in wheelchairs. One of the most exciting times during worship service was when the pastor would speak of the glories of the resurrection. At the mention of future glory, this group would grow palpably excited. Their excitement was impossible to contain. They would shout, laugh, cry, and sing for joy. This became such a routine that when the pastor would say, "What's the best thing about heaven?" the crowd would shout in unison, "No more wheelchairs!" If we remove the hope of resurrection, their excitement proves futile.

Death is an enemy. It is also a conquered enemy in Christ. It still possesses a sting, but its sting holds no poison. The ultimate healing Christ brings in the resurrection is greater than any damage death can unleash.

The doctrine of the resurrection holds this tension together. Too often we offer sweet, pious talk in regard to death: "She must be happier now." "God must have really wanted him to come home." "She's watching us now." For those who have been touched by the death of a loved one, these phrases can sound insensitive. They do not take into account the serious loss that death brings. They make death sound like a welcome friend rather than a bitter enemy. In short, this language simply doesn't take death seriously!

The language of resurrection does take death seriously. It is a destructive enemy, yet it is conquered. Graves are all too real. But the grave is not the end.

The scriptures teach that we have eternity in our hearts (Ecclesiastes 3:11). We long for a life free from the fear of death, disease, decay, and destruction. The hope of resurrection is a hope beyond our wildest dreams, and yet, it connects to our deepest desires. It is the hope that, in the end, life conquers death. Everything that is lost is restored. Nothing, therefore, experienced in this life is ultimately shown to be in vain.

Life without the threat of death is not an empty fantasy, but the hope of the gospel. We have hardly begun to consider how glorious existence may be in the immediate presence of God in a new creation inhabiting a resurrection body. This is hardly a pipe dream. And it is anything but boring! In such a state, we can begin to "dream new dreams." Rabbi Brad Hirshield offers the following reflection:

I long to live in a world where there is no violence, sickness, or death. But even in that perfect world, our old set of questions will surely open up new ones. What will it mean to feel rich when we all can have all the material wealth we want? What will it mean to treasure each moment, when we know that we will live forever? What will it mean to enjoy good health when we no longer fear disease? We will finally be free to measure meaning, good fortune, and success against our deepest desires, not our sense that meaning, goodness, and success are scarce commodities. Our tendency is to "count our blessings" in relation to someone else's "curses," or at least their shortcomings. We have a tendency to appreciate what we have in relationship to how little of it someone else has, whether it is material wealth, health, happiness, or anything else, and we treat our blessings like wheat or pork bellies: if the market is full of them. They are worth less, but if they are rare, their value soars.

I want to enjoy my kids' health, as it is, not because there are kids who are suffering more than they are. I want to appreciate my wife, not because of how many people I know who are less happy in their marriages than I am. I want to feel successful without looking down at those people I have "surpassed" along the way. That's when real happiness is found. Being happy with what you have is the real definition of wealth.

When the Messiah comes, our longed-for "there" will become our commonplace "here and now." Our dreams will become our reality, and it will be time to dream new dreams.[8]

In our final session, we will consider how the hope of resurrection does not lead us to abandon the present life - to be so heavenly-minded that we are of no earthly good. Instead, it is the hope of resurrection that drives our actions in the present. What we do has significance precisely because it has eternal significance. It will never be lost, and it leads to a glorious end - an end that has already been revealed in Christ!

© Richard J. Vincent, 2008