GOD’S PROMISE
Death has been swallowed up in victory.
—1 Corinthians 15:54
Several years ago I received an urgent call to visit a dying man in the hospital. I didn’t know Peter well, but I knew that he was paying a high price for his hard living. Years of drugs and alcohol abuse had perforated his system. Though he’d made peace with God through Christ, his liver was in conflict with his body.
When his ex-wife phoned me, she was standing at his bedside. Peter, she explained, was knocking at death’s door. Though I hurried, he entered it minutes before I arrived. The hospital-room atmosphere had a “just happened” feel to it. She was still standing by the bed. His hair was stroked back from her touch. The lipstick imprint of a kiss was just below the dorsal knuckles on his left hand. Perspiration beads sparkled on his forehead.
She saw me enter and looked up. With eyes and words she explained, “He just left.”
Peter silently slipped out. Exited. Departed. One moment here. The next moment . . . where? He passed, not away, but on. Yet on to where? And in what form? To what place? In what manner? And, once there, what did he see? What did he know or do? We so desire to understand.
Who in your life “just left”? When the breathing of your spouse ceased, the beating heart in your womb stopped, the beep of your grandmother’s monitor became a flat-lined tone, what happened in that moment?
And what will happen to you in yours? Barring the return of Christ, you will have one . . . a last gasp, a final pulse. Your lungs will empty and blood will still. What will we be after we die? Answers vary.
• Nothing, some people say. We will decay and disintegrate. Death is a dead end. Our works and reputation might survive but not us.
• Ghosts perhaps? Phantoms of what we once were. Pale as a snowdrift. As structured as a morning mist. What will we be after we die? Specters.
• Or hawks. Or cows. Or a car mechanic in Kokomo. Reincarnation rewards or punishes us according to our behavior. We come back to earth in another mortal body.
• Or a part of the universe. Eternity absorbs us like a lake absorbs a raindrop. We return to what we were before we were what we are . . . We return to the cosmic consciousness of the universe.
Christianity, on the other hand, posits a new, startling idea. “Death has been swallowed up in victory” (1 Cor. 15:54). The cemetery is less a place of loss and more a place of gain. The dead in Christ are to be mourned, for sure. But they are also to be envied. Funeral dirges are understandable, but a trumpet blast would be equally appropriate.
According to the promise of the empty tomb, my friend Peter awoke in a world so wondrously better than this one that it would take God himself to convince him to return to earth. We know this because Jesus’ miracles included only three resurrections. I’m thinking he had a hard time getting return guests.
People of the Promise hold on to the unshakable hope that hinges on the resurrection of Christ. The Christian hope depends entirely upon the assumption that Jesus Christ died a physical death, vacated an actual grave, and ascended into heaven where he, at this moment, reigns as head of the church.
The resurrection changed everything.
It was Sunday morning after the Friday execution. The sky was dark. The disciples had scattered. And the Roman executioner was wondering about breakfast or work or his next day off. But he was not wondering about the fellow he had nailed to a cross and pierced with a spear. Jesus was dead and buried. Yesterday’s news, right?
Wrong.
There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. The guards were so afraid of him that they shook and became like dead men.
The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay.” (Matt. 28:2–6)
Had such words never been spoken, had the body of Jesus decayed into dust in the borrowed tomb, you would not be reading these pages, and we would not be discussing this promise. But the words were spoken, and the promise was made.
Jesus went on a resurrection tour. He appeared to the women near the tomb. He appeared to the followers in the Upper Room. He appeared to the disciples on the road to Emmaus. He appeared to his friends on the shore of Galilee. He spoke with them. He ate with them. They touched his body; they heard his words. They were convinced this Jesus was raised from the dead.
They also believed his resurrection is the preview and promise of ours. What God did for him, he will do for us. When Jesus rose from the dead, he was the “firstfruits” (1 Cor. 15:20, 23). “Firstfruits” is the first taste of the harvest. The farmer can anticipate the nature of the crop by sampling the first batch. We can anticipate our own resurrection by viewing the resurrection of Christ. What will happen when you die? Scripture reveals some intriguing assurances.
Your spirit will immediately enter into the presence of God. You will enjoy conscious fellowship with the Father and with those who have gone before. Your body will join you later. We believe this to be true because of verses like this one: “We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord” (2 Cor. 5:8).
When Peter’s ex-wife asked me what happened to her husband, I could rightly say, “He is away from his body and at home with the Lord.”
Isn’t this the promise Jesus gave the thief on the cross? “Today you will be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:43). “Today,” Christ promised. No delay. No pause. No purgatory cleansing or soul sleeping. The thief closed his eyes on earth and awoke in paradise. The soul of the believer journeys home, while the body of the believer awaits the resurrection.
My friend Luis took this journey. For the last couple of years, he greeted me at the convenience store where he worked and I bought morning coffee. He was such a kind, gentle soul. Even when his heart deteriorated, his hope never did. Last week his heart gave out. He coded three times. The medical team was able to revive him twice. After the first event, his wife was ushered into the room. Whatever Luis had seen caused him to whisper to her: “Ven conmigo, está muy bonito.” (Come with me, it’s very beautiful.)
Paradise is the first stage of heaven.
But paradise is not the final version of heaven or the ultimate expression of home.
The final age will begin when Christ returns on the final day. “For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout” (1 Thess. 4:16 NKJV). Before you see angels, hear trumpets, or embrace your grandparents, you will be engulfed by Jesus’ voice. “The LORD will roar from on high” (Jer. 25:30).
He will awaken the body and summon the soul of the dead man. “The dead will hear the voice of the Son of God. . . . [A]ll who are . . . in their graves will hear his voice. Then they will come out” (John 5:25, 28–29 NCV). He who created us will collect us. “The LORD, who scattered his people, will gather them” (Jer. 31:10 NLT).
I’ve stood in cemeteries and attempted to imagine this moment. The road on which Denalyn and I take our walks is marked by a small country graveyard. The headstones are faded beyond recognition. No dirt has been turned for a century. The few discernible names share a last name. I assume a family is buried there. It is just one of the millions of burial spots around the planet. Yet if these words from Jeremiah are true, it will someday witness a miracle beyond words. The same God who shook the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea will shake the soil of this simple cemetery. The grass will be pushed back from within. The caskets will open, and the bodies of these forgotten farmers will be called into the sky.
But in what form? How will the bodies look? In what shape will they appear? They are decayed, some to dust. They were wracked by disease and deformity. Some were riddled with bullets or destroyed by fire. How will these bodies be worthy of heaven?
Here is Paul’s answer.
The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable; 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. (1 Cor. 15:42–44)
Spirits will be reunited with bodies, resulting in a spiritual body. Just as a seed becomes a plant, this fleshly body will become a spiritual body. You are going to love yours.
You’ve never seen yourself at your best. Even on your good days, you’ve been subject to bacteria, weariness, and wounds. You’ve never known yourself as God intended. But you will! Try to imagine a body with no pain, a mind with no wandering thoughts. Envision yourself as you were meant to be: completely whole.
And while your imagination is warmed up, envision this earth as it was intended to be: completely calm. “The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them” (Isa. 11:6). Lions won’t snarl. Bears won’t maim. No one, no thing, will rebel. The next age will be calm because it gladly defers to God.
“No longer will there be any curse” (Rev. 22:3). No more struggle with the earth. No more shame before God. No more tension between people. No more death. No more curse. The removal of the curse will return God’s people and the universe to their intended states. Satan, the tempter, will be thrown “into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels” (Matt. 25:41 ESV).
In that moment “Death is swallowed up in victory” (1 Cor. 15:54 NKJV).
Make this promise one of the blocks in your foundation. View death through the lens of Christ’s resurrection. The grave brings sorrow, for sure. But it need not bring despair. The tomb could not hold Christ, and since Christ is in you, you will not long be in your tomb. “In keeping with his promise we are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, where righteousness dwells” (2 Peter 3:13).
This is God’s promise. He will reclaim his creation. He is a God of restoration, not destruction. He is a God of renewal, redemption, regeneration, resurrection. God loves to redo and restore.
“I am making everything new!” he announced (Rev. 21:5). Everything new. The old will be gone. Gone with hospital waiting rooms. Gone with tear-stained divorce papers. Gone with motionless ultrasounds. Gone with loneliness, foreclosure notices, and abuse. Gone with cancer. God will lay hold of every atom, emotion, insect, animal, and galaxy. He will reclaim every diseased body and afflicted mind. I am making all things new.
In the movie As Good As It Gets, Jack Nicholson portrays a curmudgeonly New York City author who snaps at anything that moves. He is rich, lonely, bitter, and afraid. He has phobias like the Amazon has piranhas, and they gnaw on him. He fears stepping on sidewalk cracks, using a bar of soap twice, and shaking hands with anyone. He always eats in the same restaurant at the same table and orders the same meal from the same server.
At one point his neurosis reaches a breaking point, and he goes to see his psychoanalyst. He sees the waiting room of patients and sighs. He avoids physical contact but can’t avoid the impact of the sad collection of misery. “Is this as good as it gets?” he asks.
Many people assume that it is. They mistakenly think that their fondest moment, deepest joy, and most profound experience happen sometime between the delivery room and the funeral home. Someone needs to tell them this is just the beginning. As good as it gets? For the Christian this world is as bad as it gets.
Can I urge, beg, and implore you to set your heart on this hope? “Since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken” (Heb. 12:28), we can have a hope that won’t be shaken. Set your heart and eyes on it.
So we do not give up. Our physical body is becoming older and weaker, but our spirit inside us is made new every day. We have small troubles for a while now, but they are helping us gain an eternal glory that is much greater than the troubles. We set our eyes not on what we see but on what we cannot see. What we see will last only a short time, but what we cannot see will last forever. (2 Cor. 4:16–18 NCV)
The verb used in the phrase “set our eyes” is skopeó, the great-grandfather of the English word scope. When you press your eye against the scope of a rifle, what happens? All your gaze is focused on one item. Lift up your eyes and look, long and hard, at the promised heaven.
Let this hope for tomorrow bring strength to today. Your finest moment will be your final moment! I know, most people say otherwise. Death is to be avoided, postponed, and ignored. But they do not have what you have. You have a promise from the living God. Your death will be swallowed up in victory! Jesus Christ rose from the dead, not just to show you his power, but also to reveal your path. He will lead you through the valley of death.
Several weeks ago I spent an hour in the office of a cemetery director. Yet another birthday had reminded me that the day of my departure is increasingly near. It seemed right to me to make burial preparations. Then again, it didn’t. (Especially when I learned the cost of the plots!)
As the gentleman was showing me the cemetary map and the available sections, I had an idea. “You’ll likely think I’m crazy,” I told him, “but can I record a message for my tombstone? A sort of voice mail for the grave.”
To his credit he didn’t call me crazy and promised to check. Within a few days he gave me the good news. “Yes, it is possible. A recorded message can be encased in the grave marker. At the push of the button, a message can be played.”
I thanked him and got to work. Within a few minutes I had mine written. It’s not yet recorded. Perhaps I can test it with you first.
The granite stone will contain a button and an invitation: “Press for a word from Max.” If you do, this is what you will hear.
Thanks for coming by. Sorry you missed me. I’m not here. I’m home. Finally home. At some point my King will call, and this grave will be shown for the temporary tomb it is. You might want to step to the side in case that happens while you are here. Again, I appreciate the visit. Hope you’ve made plans for your own departure. All the best, Max.
Yeah, it still needs some work. While the wording might change, the promise never will: “Death has been swallowed up in victory” (1 Cor. 15:54).