Unconvinced

Yesterday I heard someone make an argument for Amillennialism that started with John 5:28–29. I admit my first thought was, "here we go..." I've heard this argument from Amillennialists more than once.

The argument goes something like this:  Revelation 20:1–10 is the only passage in Scripture that specifies a 1,000 year reign of Christ. Revelation 20:4–6 describes the 1,000 years beginning with "the first resurrection," and tells us "the rest of the dead" aren't raised until the 1,000 years are finished.

But in John 5:28–29, the Lord says there is "an hour" coming in which there is a resurrection to life, and a resurrection to judgment.

Thus, we conclude that the 1,000 year reign in Revelation 20 isn't to be understood literally, as the Lord specifies those two resurrections happen in the same hour – not necessarily 60 minutes, but at least closely in time.

This isn't a terrible argument, but I don't find it very convincing.

First, the context (John 5:24–30) makes it difficult to argue that "hour" precludes a literal 1,000 years. Consider John 5:25, "an hour is coming, and now is, when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God, and they that have heard shall live." 

The Lord is describing His ministry of regeneration – calling the [spiritually] dead to life.  The "hour" in John 5:25 was already underway at that time ("and now is"), and has been going on for almost 2,000 years now.

So given the Lord described the last two millennia as an "hour" just three verses earlier, there's no reason to believe the "hour" in John 5:28–29 can't encompass all the events of Revelation 20:1–10.

Second, it's a strange hermeneutic that insists a detailed passage (Revelation 20:1–10) must be understood symbolically because of a much less detailed description in an earlier passage (John 5:28–29). By that logic, we should insist the Gospel accounts are purely symbolic, because the prophets didn't describe the entire three-year span of the Lord's earthly ministry.

Of course that's ridiculous. We understand that the prophets gave terse summaries of events to come. The Gospel writers, describing the actual events, give significantly more detail.

Similarly, the Lord's one-sentence description of the "hour" of two resurrections is a terse summary of coming events that Revelation 20:1–10 describes in more detail and precision. Yes, the Lord combines two events into a single "hour" in His summary, just like the Old Testament prophets combined several events into a short summary in their writings.

Finally,  Scripture is consistent in its use of time spans like "hour" and "day" to indicate longer periods of time. Genesis 2:4–5 describes the seven days of creation as the "day that Jehovah Elohim made earth and heavens," and everything in them. We don't then interpret Genesis 2:4–5 as contradicting the entire first chapter of Genesis, but we understand it uses the word "day" to describe a period of time that's characterized by a single thing.

The Lord uses the word "hour" to describe whole eras: the era of worship "in spirit and in truth" (John 4:23), and the era of persecution of the Apostles after His ascension (John 16:2ff). Again, He is using the term "hour" to describe a period of time characteristically.

The Lord describes His death as an "hour" (Mark 14:35, Luke 22:53, John 7:30, John 12:27). We don't thus conclude that the Gospel descriptions of the Crucifixion lasting several hours are to be understood symbolically. Rather, we understand that He is using the term "hour" to describe a period of time characterized by that single awful event.

Insisting the Lord's use of the term "hour" in John 5:28–29 must mean the first and second resurrection cannot be spaced 1.000 years apart ignores His own repeated use of the word "hour" to describe very long periods of time.

Now, I'm not making the claim that Amillennialism cannot be argued from Scripture. I am pointing out that John 5:28–29 provides no meaningful evidence against a literal 1,000 year reign in Revelation 20. To read John 5:28–29 that way is to ignore how the Lord uses the same word just three verses earlier (John 5:25), how He uses the term "hour" throughout John's gospel, and how Scripture as a whole uses terms like "hour" and "day."

 

There is a less-obvious lesson here for our Dispensationalist friends, and we need to be careful not to miss it. I have sat in many a Bible reading where Christians spent a great deal of effort to differentiate between the Lord's "coming" and His "appearing."  I've heard Christians go through the epistles with a fine-toothed comb to separate and distinguish between coming events.

That's not necessarily sin, but I have to ask the question: why didn't the Lord Jesus do that? Why did He sum up a 1,000 year period as an "hour"?

The Son of God saw value in discussing two events that are separated by 1,000 years in a single sentence. So yes, the epistles distinguish between these events. But the Son of God did not. We should ask ourselves why.

I would suggest that if the Holy Spirit sees value in discussing these events distinctly in Revelation 20:1–10 and indistinctly in John 5:28–29, then there is wisdom in us not seeing them only in one light or the other. There is wisdom in meditating on them in both lights.

Paul's epistles consistently point us to the Lord's imminent return for us (Philippians 3:20–21). Peter's epistles point us beyond that, to new heavens and a new earth (2 Peter 3:13). I've actually heard "brethren" use that as some sort of argument that "Paul's ministry" is greater than Peter's.

To be clear, that is sin.

When the Spirit of God gives us two different perspectives, that's not so we can choose between them. That's so we can subject ourselves to God's word, and meditate on both of them.

So when Paul's epistles draw distinctions between coming events, and Peter's discuss them all as a single large event, that's so we can see the mind of God in both the big picture and the fine details. That is not so we can think of ourselves as wiser than the Spirit of God who inspired both.

When Revelation 20:1–10 gives in much greater detail the expanded view of the two resurrections in John 5:28–29, that's not license to sin by discounting the words that the Son of God spoke. That's so we can learn both the "big picture" lessons of John 5 and the "fine detail" lessons of Revelation 20.

(Yes, I am aware that the Lord's crucifixion is a rejection of Him as King, so that the millennial kingdom in Revelation 20:1–10 could not, in a sense, be discussed in John 5. Peter's offer of "the times of refreshing" (Acts 3:19–21) would seem odd if the Lord had already publicly discussed the details that Revelation 20:1–10 give. But I still maintain that the Lord's willingness to view the "big picture" and view that entire chapter as a single "hour" must mean it's a worthwhile perspective for us to consider.)

The whole

I had an extremely encouraging conversation with a friend who is both much younger and much smarter than I am. Those conversations can be challenging, but also rewarding. I realized in the conversation that our faith must embrace everything that we are. 

It seems to me that we fall constantly into the trap of denying one truth in order to believe another. And that seems evident in our attempts at spiritual growth: some of us attempt to deny our emotions, others attempt to deny our wills, or our bodies, or our intellects in order to achieve some sort of spirituality. But of course none of those things is actually spiritual. True spirituality is not a denial of any part of what we are, it's being all that we are under the control of the Holy Spirit, under the Lordship of Christ (Colossians 3:17).

So the path to spirituality isn't denying our emotions in order to focus on our intellects, any more than it is denying our intellects in order to focus on our wills. We are made in the image of God, and we have emotions, intellects, wills, physical bodies, and so on. We don't become more spiritual by being less intellectual, any more than we become more spiritual by being less emotional, or by being less physical. The point of Christianity isn't that any part of what we are becomes less, it's that all that we are comes under the Lordship of Christ, under the control of the Spirit of God.

 

Our faith is to be intellectual, but not merely intellectual. It is to be emotional, but not merely emotional. It is to be intentional, but not merely intentional. It is to be physical, but not merely physical. But all under the Lordship of Christ.

 

But of course that's not really enough. Our faith is transformational: we who have died with Christ are transformed by it. We die as one thing and are raised another (1 Corinthians 15:40–45).  So please don't misunderstand me to be saying that spirituality is continuing exactly as we were as unregenerate people, that's not at all true. My point is that Christianity doesn't involve becoming less human: Christ is completely Man in His resurrection, just like He was before He died. We, too, will be fully human when we have been raised with Him. Christian perfection is not to be less intellectual, or less emotional, or less physical. We will be all those things in the resurrection.

My point is that denying our wills, or our emotions, or our intellects, or our bodies isn't spirituality. Spirituality is to have a will under God's control. It's to have emotions under God's control. It's to have a body under God's control. It's to have an intellect under God's control. Spirituality is being what God has made us to be, especially being subject to Christ in everything we do, think, and feel.

 

Many years ago I was reading Watchman Nee, and I was struck by his statement that Romans 6 isn't aspirational: it's not that we aspire to be crucified with Christ. It's a statement of fact: we have died with Christ.

Many of the sermons I listen to go off the rails at precisely this point. When those preachers talk about New Creation, they're not talking about something they believe to be real. If you listen – really listen – to what they say, they believe Romans 6 and Colossians 3 and Galatians 2 are metaphors: they are statements we should all be working hard to live up to.

I absolutely believe this is the leaven of evangelicalism: it's the idea that new birth is an addition, as opposed to a replacement. Nothing could be farther from the truth! 

 

But having said all that, the Christian life is nothing less than the life of Jesus in our mortal bodies (2 Corinthians 4:6–12). It's not a diminishing of the mortal body, it's not a diminishing of what we are as God's creations. It's a transformation. It's a change. But it's the life of Jesus worked out in mortal bodies. We can't shortcut the Holy Spirit's work in us by denying our intellects (although our intellect gets us into trouble) or by denying our emotions (as messy as they are) or by denying we have wills (as problematic as our wills prove) or by denying our physical bodies (as much as we might long for transcendence). The Spirit of God is working in us to reveal Christ in those things. And we are foolish to think we can help Him out by denying them.

Waiting

1 Thessalonians 1:9–10 might suggest to us that a Christian is one who has turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God, and to wait for His Son from Heaven, whom He raised from the dead. It's striking that the Thessalonian description of Christianity puts waiting for the Son of God from Heaven on par with serving God. I don't mean that those two things are equivalent, but that they are of equal importance.

Philippians 3:17–21 says something similar: we are to model ourselves after those who walk like the Apostles, who are waiting for the Son of God to come from Heaven, to change our bodies to be like His. I'm not sure I've ever really obeyed that exhortation: I'm not sure I've chosen role models based on whether they're waiting for the Son of God from Heaven. But that seems to be what the passage is telling us to do.

 I'm old enough to remember a time when the imminent return of Christ was a common belief among evangelicals. When I was growing up in the 70s and 80s, it wasn't a very controversial idea. Somewhere along the way, that seems to have fallen out of favor. 

There are many godly believers who hold different views to mine about the Lord's return. I'm not very dogmatic about eschatology, because I've lived long enough to have been proven wrong about a great many things. But I do insist that the epistles present the Lord's return as something that can happen at any moment, and that the Apostles expected Him to return in their own time. 1 Thessalonians 4:15–18 make it very clear: Paul includes himself in "we who are alive and remain."  1 Corinthians 15:51–52 make it clear that Paul didn't consider himself one who must necessarily die.

I recall reading J. N. Darby, where he pointed out that it's when the servant says "my lord delays" (Luke 12:45–46) that he begins to abuse his position. The servant doesn't say the lord isn't returning at all, merely that he's not returning soon.

I confess that I have fallen into that trap. I haven't ever denied that the Lord is returning, but I have certainly acted like He isn't returning soon. And I am more and more realizing that with this subtle shift in thinking, I have fallen into all sorts of traps.

So I've been reminding myself that the Apostles expected the Lord to return in their own lifetimes, and I am by no means wiser than they. I've been reminding myself that this life is real and significant and what I do here matters, but I have been called to wait for the Son of God from Heaven. 

Those two principles are in a bit of opposition to one another, and we've seen what happens when either one is ignored. On the one hand, those who forget this life is real and significant have a tendency to Gnosticism. On the other hand, those who forget that we're called to wait like the Son of God is just around the corner have a tendency to live like they don't think He's ever coming. 

So let's don't fall into either error. Let's not live like this life doesn't matter, but let's not live like it'll matter tomorrow. It might not.

Resurrection of the just

About a year ago we moved from the city to the middle of nowhere. We like it better here, but it was a pretty drastic move. Obviously we're not remembering the Lord with the same small group in the city. It's not that we were trying to get away from them or anything, just that we're now too far away to make regular visits. And then Coronavirus hit and changed a whole lot of things quickly.

Around the same time we moved, I'd begun to see that I'd allowed a lot of my views on Scripture to lead me into some problems. I wrote about that in "Best Wine" and "Losing Sight". So I've been doing a lot of thinking and reading, re-examining my ideas, questioning my beliefs, trying to throw away what isn't Scripture, embracing what Scripture actually says.

I've been meditating on 1 Corinthians 15:1–8, which naturally led me to contemplate the Resurrection of Christ, and resurrection more generally. The core belief of Christians is that Christ has risen from the dead. All through Acts, this is the central message of the Apostles. A great deal (if not all) of the teaching of the Epistles stems from this one fact. The Resurrection proves who Christ is, what He has done, and what He will do. It is proof that He is the Son of God (Romans 1:4), that He has been appointed Judge of all men and women (Acts 17:31), and that He will raise us too (1 Corinthians 15:20).

Scripture doesn't speak about "resurrection life", but it does talk about the power of His resurrection (Philippians 3:10) as something we can personally know. Sadly, we seem to try and turn that into some statement about the power of God in the sense of what God can do. But that's not really what the Epistles are teaching. It's not merely that the Resurrection is a demonstration of what God can do – it is that, but it's much more – it's that we are participators in Christ's Resurrection because God sees us "in Christ." We have died with Him, we have been buried with Him, we are raised with Him, we shall be seen with Him (Colossians 3:1–4).

The Lord spoke about two distinct resurrections: the resurrection to life, and the resurrection to judgment (John 5:29).  Revelation 20 talks about the "first resurrection" (Revelation 20:1–5) and the "second death" (Revelation 20:12–15). Those line up very clearly with what the Lord said of two resurrections.

Interestingly, Revelation 20:5 places the two resurrections 1,000 years apart, which might give us some hints about eschatology in Scripture. In one passage they're mentioned closely together (John 5:29), in another we're given more concrete information about their spacing in time. This is worth noting as we read through the Scriptures.

1 Corinthians 15:51–57 and 1 Thessalonians 4:13–18 both describe a resurrection when the Lord comes. I don't think this is the same event described in Revelation 20:5, but clearly they're related.  The statement in Revelation 20, "this is the first resurrection," appears to me to be clarifying that the resurrection of the martyrs is part of the first resurrection. I don't think it's saying that the first resurrection is solely comprised of those martyrs, but that those martyrs are also included in the first resurrection that began earlier. 1 Corinthians 15:20 leads me to believe that the first resurrection began with the Lord's Resurrection, continues on through the event in 1 Corinthians 15:51–57 and 1 Thessalonians 4:13–18, and comes to a close when the martyrs are raised in Revelation 20:1–5. These three are each part of one single resurrection. Those who are part of that resurrection are not to be hurt of the second death.

Scripture teaches that we are raised with Christ already (Colossians 3:1). But we are waiting for the resurrection of the body, described in Romans 8:23 and Philippians 3:20–21. But the epistles put us on the ground of that resurrection as far as our conduct, behavior, and testimony in this world are concerned. We are to live in un-resurrected bodies as though we had already been raised. Because in Christ, our resurrection is an accomplished fact.

But we notice that our destiny is not to be disembodied spirits. We aren't looking forward to going to heaven to live there as spirits forever (2 Corinthians 5:1–4). We are looking forward to our bodies being raised, being changed to be like His. My eternal destiny is to see the Lord with these eyes (Job 19:25–27), to see Him standing on the earth. It's easy to lose sight of this.

This idea anchors our thoughts to reality. We're not to be content with this world as it is. We're not to be content with ourselves as we are. We expect the Son of God to come from Heaven to claim us (1 Thessalonians 4:13–18), to redeem our bodies (Romans 8:23), to change us (1 Corinthians 15:51–57),  and to make us like Him (Philippians 3:20–21). And we expect the Son of God to come from Heaven to rule personally, bodily on the earth (Revelation 20:4). And we expect Him to judge all the living and the dead in the last day (Acts 17:31; Revelation 20:11–15).

We expect these things in the real, physical world. We're not talking about some "other", some sort of spiritual reality. We expect the feet of the Son of God to touch the ground in some actual, physical location on the Mount of Olives (Zechariah 14:4).

To be clear, I believe these things will happen in three distinct events, separated in time by the others. I don't believe the Son of God will come to claim us and to rule and to judge all at the same time. There are too many distinctions in Scripture between those events for me to think they all happen at once. Certainly the second and third are separated by 1,000 years in Revelation 20, but I'm convinced the first is distinct from the second as well.

But at the end of the day, Resurrection anchors our hopes to this physical reality. That is a profound thought.

I shall see God

I've been emailing with a friend about resurrection, so I've been thinking a lot about Job 19:25–27.

It's striking that Job says he will one day see God (Job 19:26), and evidently he expects God to stand on the earth. Now, it's true that Job's Redeemer is come, and has stood on the earth. But Job had been dead at least a thousand years at that point; so this can't have been the time that Job was expecting. So Job was looking forward to an event that still hasn't happened.

Job says that even if his flesh and his skin rot away, he will still see God with his own eyes. And he repeats it as though to emphasize it: it will be with his own eyes, and not another.

This is a problematic verse for me, because I have trouble with his insistence that it will be with his own eyes that he will see God. The thing is, Job 19:27 insists that resurrection isn't hypothetical. It's intensely earthy, because it means that resurrection is about the body I have now. Indeed, Job says it will my own two eyes that see God. I'm sure they won't be using bifocals then, but they won't be new eyes: they'll be my own two eyes.

I realized a few years ago that we're not looking for new bodies, but changed ones. I'm embarrassed by how big a realization that was.

So what about us? Are we looking forward to seeing our Redeemer stand on the earth? I know dispensationalists like to say our hope is the Lord returning for us, and of course that's correct. But that's really only the first step. There's more: we look for the Lord to be manifested (Colossians 3:4). And ultimately, we're looking for a new Heaven and a new earth (2 Peter 3:13). So we shouldn't get too myopic about our hope. We do hope for Christ to come and get us, that doesn't lessen at all our desire to look out of our changed (not new – 1 Corinthians 15:51) eyes and see the Last standing upon the earth.

Complete Man

And Joseph died, a hundred and ten years old; and they embalmed him; and he was put in a coffin in Egypt (Genesis 50:26)

Jesus therefore, when he saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her weeping, was deeply moved in spirit, and was troubled, and said, Where have ye put him? (John 11:33–34)

I was struck by the wording of Genesis 50, that when Joseph died they put him in a coffin. Were I to have written Genesis 50, I likely would have said they put his body in a coffin. But the Word of God doesn't say that.

In John 11, when the Lord Jesus came to Bethany after the death of Lazarus, He asked, "Where have ye put him?" Again, we might expect He would ask, "Where have you put his body?" but that's not at all what He asked. He asked, "Where have you put him?"

It is unfortunate, but it is nevertheless true that we frequently allow one truth to block our view of another. It is true that the Epistles (especially Paul's epistles) call us to walk in new creation. But it is no less true that God has created us body, soul, and spirit. We have belong to a world that none of us have actually seen: we wait for a new heaven and a new earth (2 Peter 3:13). At the same time, we're not going to get there without physical bodies. We are groaning, waiting for the redemption of our bodies (Romans 8:23). Philippians 3:21 says it best, we're waiting for the Son of God from heaven, who will change our mortal bodies to be like His.

2 Corinthians 5:1–8 bring this into sharp focus. We're groaning while we await "our house from heaven": we want to be free of these fallen bodies, but we're not really wanting to be incorporeal spirits – we don't want to be unclothed – what we want is to have our bodies redeemed.

God has created us to be both physical and spiritual beings. We're not complete without our bodies. The scripture testifies to this fact every time it talks about "him" being buried. Being absent from the body is being present with the Lord (2 Corinthians 5:8; Philippians 1:23–24), but that doesn't change the fact that our hope is to be made like Christ, and our bodies will be changed to be like His (Philippians 3:20–21).

It's a striking thought that those who are now with the Lord are still awaiting resurrection. I can't see any other way to understand 1 Thessalonians 4:15–18.

We notice 1 Corinthians 15:3–8 describes the Lord Himself the same way as Joseph and Lazarus – "He was buried" (1 Corinthians 15:4). John's Gospel uses language more like what we might expect: John 19:38–40 talks about "the body of Jesus". But notice the final verse in the chapter ends with "on account of the preparation of the Jews, because the tomb was near, they laid Jesus" (John 19:42).

The language of 1 Corinthians 15:4 and John 19:42 insists that the Son of God is a Man. There are a lot of heresies out there about the incarnation, but the truth is the Son of God became a Man. And He is still a Man. The Second Man is coming from Heaven (1 Corinthians 15:47). I am sure this is what Exodus 21:2–6 is describing: the Son of God has become the Son of Man, and He isn't willing to go free. He will judge as the Son of Man (John 5:26–27) in the last day.

I find it easy to slip into a sort of Gnosticism, probably because I spend a lot of time thinking about our life here in fallen bodies. But the truth of Scripture is not that we are waiting to be free of our bodies, it's that we're waiting for the Son of God to come and change them. For some that will involve resurrection, others will be changed without dying (1 Corinthians 15:51). But in either case, we are called to glorify God in our bodies (1 Corinthians 6:19–20). We're not called to a non-physical spirituality, but an intensely physical one. I find it easy to lose sight of that.

Earthen Vessels

There are several passages of Scripture that give a succinct summary of the Christian life. Philippians 3:3 is one, 1 Thessalonians 1:9–10 is another, Galatians 2:20 too. I find myself thinking about a lot about another, 2 Corinthians 4:6–7.

In 2 Corinthians 3:7–18, Christ is contrasted to Moses. We remember the story of Moses speaking with God – when he came back down from the mountain, his face shone and he didn't realize it (Exodus 34:29–35). The children of Israel had Moses cover his face with a veil so that they could look at him. Now the glory of God is shining in the face of Jesus Christ. Unlike Moses, we are to look on Him without a veil. And when we do, His glory transforms us.

In 2 Corinthians 4:6–12, we have something Exodus didn't talk about: when we've been gazing at the glory of the Lord with unveiled faces, then God shines that same glory out of our hearts. It's the God who commanded light to shine out of darkness – the God who needs nothing to work with – who does this. He shines the "light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ" out of our hearts.

Paul does that a lot, he talks about "the God who..." I've learned to pay attention to those small phrases, because they reveal an awful lot about the point the passage is making. Here it's the God who doesn't need any raw materials: He brought light out of darkness.

It's not mentioned in these verses, but we might pause a moment and consider that the first time God commanded light to shine out of darkness it didn't cost Him anything. He is God, He spoke and it was done. But in shining the light out of darkness in our hearts, the cost to Him was tremendous. It cost His Son.

2 Corinthians 4:7 goes on to say that God has deliberately put this treasure – the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ – in earthen vessels. He has chosen an entirely inappropriate vessel for His treasure. Why? Because He wants to be sure that we realize it's of God and not of us.

The passage doesn't actually mention the story of Gideon (Judges 7:16–21), but there are some striking parallels. First, we find that God carefully reduced the number of Gideon's men until they were down to 300 (Judges 7:1–7). We find, too, that God explicitly told Gideon why: He wanted there to be no question that it was He who brought victory, not strength of arms (Judges 7:2). Second, the weapons in the hands of Gideon's men were trumpets and torches (lights) hidden in earthen vessels (Judges 7:16).

We realize Gideon's plan was to reveal the torches not by lifting the vessels off the torches, but by breaking the earthen vessels. This is precisely what 2 Corinthians 4:10–12 goes on to talk about. As death works in us, the life of Jesus (notice here it's not "Christ Jesus" nor "Jesus Christ", but "Jesus") is revealed in our mortal bodies.

Susan has pointed out (quite correctly) that we don't cease to exist. Christianity is not Buddhism: we are not striving to become nothing. I'm afraid sometimes it sounds like that's what I'm saying – it's not. 2 Corinthians 4:16 makes it clear: there is an outward man that is broken down as death works in us, but there is an inward man that is renewed by this same process.

We saw this same contrast in Romans 7:22–23. There is an inward man delighting in the Law of God, but there is a law of sin in my members. What's the conclusion to the conflict in Romans 7? There the man cries out, "Who shall deliver me out of this body of death?" (Romans 7:24). Romans 8 picks up this theme in v. 10, where we find that the body is dead because of sin, but the spirit life because of righteousness. Romans 8 goes on to resolve this conflict in v. 23: we groan now, awaiting the redemption of the body. The Son of God is coming to change our bodies to be like His body (Philippians 3:21).

If I may pause here a minute: our hope as Christians is the resurrection of our mortal bodies to immortality. Someone once quoted 1 Thessalonians 4:17 to me about a man who is now asleep in Christ, "he is ever with the Lord." Of course that's entirely wrong – that phrase is clearly talking about those who shall have been raised into immortality. The dead in Christ haven't been made perfect without us: they await the resurrection just like we do. Our hope is, in a sense, physical: we await the resurrection of our mortal bodies. We might actually make it to that resurrection without dying, but all who are in Christ will be raised in what the Lord Jesus called the "resurrection of life" (John 5:29).

But our bodies haven't been raised to immortality yet. In a sense, that's really what the Christian life is – it's the life of Jesus manifested in mortal flesh (2 Corinthians 4:11). It's all about treasure in earthen vessels. It's about God's power seen in bodies that have yet to be redeemed.

It's true that the old man has died and the new man doesn't have to. At the same time, we recognize that death is the tool God has chosen to reveal Christ in us (2 Corinthians 4:10–12). We see the same truth in Colossians 3:1–5, because we have died with Christ, we are called to put to death our members on the earth. It's not that we are called to die, but we all carry about with us things that need to be put to death (Romans 8:12–14).

When the Son of God comes to change our mortal bodies, we won't have those things any more: there'll be no need to put to death the deeds of the body. But until then, death works in us.

Paradigm un-Shift

Something has bothered me for a very long time, and I've struggled to put it into words. It seems to me we have a tendency when we've seen a truth to step back away from it, but still use the language of that truth. I'm not sure that makes a lot of sense, so let me give three examples:

I once worked for someone who liked to talk about the Theory of Constraints, but he didn't seem actually to understand it. He liked to throw around the term "Theory of Constraints," but when actually pressed to explain himself, it became obvious he had no idea what it is. He used the terminology of ToC, but he really didn't mean what those words mean: he was using new terminology to describe his old ideas.

I spent many years studying internal martial arts. I began to recognize a pattern: there were some very skilled internal martial artists who would basically become kick boxers when it was time to spar. They were very good at the internal forms, but when it came time to put on the pads, they acted like they'd forgotten everything we practiced. It was weird: almost like they didn't really believe it would work in real life.

When I was a good deal younger, I got a glimpse of Romans 6:1–11. I saw for the first time that I had died with Christ, and God wasn't interested in my life per se. He is interested in the life of Christ. This was terribly exciting to me, and I would tell people about it. Almost invariably, the people I talked to would say, "Well, that's true positionally." I began to understand by "that's true positionally," they really meant "that's not true at all."

The Christian who sees Romans 6 as a sort of a morality tale is like the manager who talks about the Theory of Constraints but has no interest in understanding it, or the student who studies internal martial arts but has no intention of actually using them in a fight. He or she may use the language of the New Testament, but can't experience it.

It's interesting to listen to people speak about Romans 6. It seems like there are basically two approaches people take:

1. some believe that Romans 6 is describing a reality: I have died with Christ
2. some believe it's a metaphor: Romans 6 is effectively a call to live a "new life," living differently than before

It seems obvious to me people in the latter group like to use the language of the paradigm shift, but they don't really believe it. They've stepped back from that truth, if you like.

It seems obvious to me that Romans 6 is not a call to live a new kind of life: it's a statement that as far as God is concerned, my life has ended (Romans 6:2). Even if I don't believe that I actually died with Christ, it's impossible to avoid that plain command to think of myself that way (Romans 6:11). The fact is that Scripture commands us to "reckon" we've died with Christ. Regardless how you understand Romans 6:1–10, if you're not thinking of yourself as having died with Christ, then you're not obeying v. 11.

I was in a Bible reading where someone talked about how the raven and the dove that Noah sent out were really types of the "two natures," and how we need to feed the dove, not the raven. Of course that's nonsense.

Scripture doesn't talk about "two natures": it doesn't talk about an "old nature" or a "new nature". Scripture talks about new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17) and indwelling sin (Romans 7:17). The believer is a new creation in Christ, who is living in an unredeemed body. The day is coming when our bodies will be redeemed (Romans 8:23), Christ will come from Heaven and transform our bodies of humiliation to be like His (Philippians 3:21). Then we'll actually be free of the body of death (Romans 7:24).

This is fundamentally liberating: it's not that I have to choose between two natures, it's that I have been freed of who and what I was by the death of Christ so that I could walk in newness of life (Romans 6:4; Romans 8:1–3).

It's very easy to see truth in Scripture and sort of dull the edge a bit. It's easy to keep using the language of new creation but slowly fall back to the notion that we can improve the flesh. It's easy to forget that Romans 6 or Colossians 3 or Galatians 2 teach that our lives have ended at the cross of Christ. It's easy to forget we are new creations in Christ and start thinking it's God's purpose to improve us. It's easy to pay lip service to the truth while slowly stepping back from it.

There are plenty of teachers and preachers who urge us to walk in newness of life, but don't seem to grasp our death with Christ. It's not a metaphor or a romantic notion, it's a fact. Scripture bases the "newness of life" on the fact that I have died with Christ (Romans 6:4). We can't really experience new life while we try and cling to the old. We have to accept that we have died with Christ before we can expect to see the power of resurrection (Philippians 3:10).

Empty Tomb

I recently realized I've missed out on a very significant statement in Scripture regarding the burial of Christ. John 19:40–42 tells us that Christ was buried in "a new tomb in which no one had ever been laid" (v. 41).

This is a daring claim to make. The Gospel centers on the proposition that Christ was raised from the dead. The Apostles insisted not only that Christ was not dead, but that He had been dead, and that He had been raised bodily from the dead. In other words, they claimed that His body was not in the tomb, because He had gotten up and left the tomb under His own power.

John's claim that there had not been anyone previously buried in that tomb meant that he actually raised the ante on the claim of the Resurrection. Not only was Christ's body not in that tomb: no one's body could be in that tomb. If people were to go to that tomb and there was any body in it, then John's claim would be shown to be false.

This makes the Resurrection claim easily falsifiable. It's like John said, "Look, if you can produce the body of Christ, we have to admit that this whole thing is a big hoax. Not only that, if you go to that tomb and there's any body in it, we'll have to admit that it's Christ's body; no one else was buried in that tomb."

I saw a meme on Facebook (I can't find it now) that pointed out the Apostles made a daring claim when they spoke of the Resurrection. By claiming that Christ had risen bodily, they made a claim that was easy to disprove. They could just have claimed Christ had risen spiritually, and their claim could never have been disproven; but claiming a physical resurrection meant they had moved into the realm of the verifiable. I think that's a very important point. John goes even further: by claiming that Jesus Christ's body was alone in that tomb, he is claiming that the tomb must be completely empty, or the claims of the Apostles must be false.

Abiding alone

The Lord Jesus made an amazing statement in John 20:24 "Except the grain of wheat falling into the ground die, it abides alone; but if it die, it bears much fruit."

I've spent a lot of time thinking about this verse. It's certainly true that the Son of God gave a great deal in His life down here: He healed people, fed people, and taught people. But everything He gave that's eternal depended on Him dying. The people He fed got hungry again, the people He healed eventually died, these were temporal blessings. The eternal blessings all come from His death, and are only really ours in resurrection.

We get into a lot of trouble trying to escape death while still having eternal life. It doesn't work that way: we can have life in Christ or life in Adam, but not both. Either death comes between us and Christ, or it comes between us and Adam. Death has come between them, and we can't have both.

Of course scripture doesn't teach we have to die, but that we have died. Our problem is not so much that we need to die as it is that we just don't quite accept that it's already been done.

It's important to understand that not everything in Adam's world is evil, but it's all under judgment. This has taken me a long time to see, and I think it's an important distinction. We're not Gnostics... Creation is a testimony to God's eternal power and glory (Romans 1:19–20). God has created man (Adam) in His own image and given him dominion over this creation (see Psalm 8). There is a dignity and a worth in man because he is created in God's image. But that doesn't change the fact that this world – the world of Adam's children – is under judgment because it has murdered the Son of God. And it doesn't change the fact that all – all – have sinned and fall short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23).

(As an aside, I find it annoying when people say the world is getting worse. The world is not getting worse: the worst thing people have ever done – or ever will do – is murdering the Son of God. The world might be more flagrant in its sin, it might flaunt sin openly in ways that shock us; but the murder of the Son of God is the moral low point of human history.)

In the end, death will come between us and Adam, or it will come between us and Christ. He has died, death has come between Christ and Adam. Adam's race has murdered the Son of God, it's their own fault that death separates them. God invites us to take our place with Christ as those who have died with Him, and recognize that in His eyes, death comes between us and Adam's world.

Again, not everything in Adam's world is bad, but it's all under judgment, and it's all separated from us by death – the death of Christ (Galatians 6:14). We like to tell Sunday School children that the Cross of Christ has bridged the gap between God and men; Scripture teaches that it has created a much more permanent gap between me and the world.

If I am to take what God has offered me in Christ, I must take it on the ground of resurrection. And resurrection ground is on the basis that I, too, have died. Christ has died, so have I (Galatians 2:20). It's only as I accept this that I can enjoy what God has given in Christ.

Futility

A couple weeks ago I put this post up… well, a version of it. There were some definite problems with the original post, so I've done some editing. And some more editing.

Luke 13:6–9; Ezekiel 11:16–21; Colossians 3:1–5

When I was around 20 I could quote Romans 6. Eventually I started believing it. Many years later I realized it's not only true, but also inevitable.

Scripture presents man's heart as incurable (Jeremiah 17:9). Of course God knew this from the very start: God tells the end from the beginning. God has known from the Fall in the Garden that man's was incurably wicked. But the Old Testament is largely the story of God convincing us of what He already knew. I suppose that's really an act of grace on His part.

Johnny D. put it this way:

What then was God doing with men before? Quickening souls assuredly from Adam on; but in His dispensations with men testing their state for their own instruction; in the former world setting them in innocence in the garden of Eden, where they fell, and then on to the flood without any special institution, though not without testimony. That world became so bad, that it was destroyed by the flood. Then in the new world came government in Noah; promise to Abraham called out from the midst of universal idolatry; the law, testing men and bringing in transgression; the prophets, to recall to the law and testify of Christ. Then God said, I have yet one Son: it may be they will reverence my Son. And when they saw Him they said, Come let us kill Him, and the inheritance shall be ours. Not only was man lawless without law, and a transgressor under law, but when grace came in the Person of the blessed Son of God, they would none of it. The presence of a divine Person drew out the enmity of the heart of man against God: "Now they have both seen and hated both me and my Father." So far from their being a link with humanity, or man as a race, it was the final test of their state: God come in grace, as a man in their midst. The result was: Now is the judgment of this world.

(Union in Incarnation, the root error of modern theology, Collected Writings of J. N. Darby, Volume 29, p.193)

So God spent many, many years demonstrating that man is thoroughly evil. The Old Testament prophets give us the conclusion: Isaiah says it this way, "What was there yet to do to my vineyard that I have not done in it?" (Isaiah 5:4). Jeremiah says our hearts are incurably evil (Jeremiah 17:9). But I find Ezekiel's presentation the most striking.

Ezekiel presents God's findings in chapter 11. When things have gotten so bad that the glory of God is leaving the temple in Jerusalem, the Lord tells Ezekiel that He will still bless Israel, but it will require a drastic measure: "And I will give them one heart, and I will put a new spirit within you; and I will take away the stony heart out of their flesh, and will give them a heart of flesh" (Ezekiel 11:19). When Jeremiah says man's heart is "incurable", he really means it. God looks on our hearts and He doesn't see a project for renovation. When God considers our hearts, He says the solution is a total replacement.

Human nature is like the fig tree that the Lord Jesus talked about (Luke 13:6–9). When a fig tree doesn't bear any fruit, there's no point having it. You might as well cut it down. Not only is it fruitless, but it makes the ground useless, because it's using up space, water, and sunlight that could be producing something else.

In the parable, the vine-dresser asks the vineyard owner to give the tree one last chance. We don't really know how the story ends, the Lord Jesus didn't tell that far. But we do know how the vineyard in Isaiah 6 ended: eventually the Owner said, "I will send my Son, perhaps they will respect Him" (Luke 20:13). But we didn't respect Him, did we? The Son of God came here and walked with men and women, and told them heavenly truth. And almost from the beginning, they tried to kill Him. They finally took the Son of God, nailed Him to a tree, and left Him to die.

This is the point that is so easy to miss: God Himself has tried to work with human nature. He has given them His Word, He gave them His Law, and He sent them His Son. The end result is that His Son was killed. And notice that it wasn't just the lawless Gentiles who killed the Son of God: it was God's own chosen people who handed Him over to be killed (Acts 2:23). God Himself has been unable to make human nature good. It's simply not possible.

Again I'll point out that this wasn't a surprise to God. He didn't set out to try and fix human nature and then give up when He found it was too hard. That's not what happened. He knew from the start how this would end. The point of the whole history of God's dealing with man was to convince us what He already knew.

So what does God do? Does He give up? In a way He does. He is not trying to reform human nature. He says, "you are dead, and your life is hidden with Christ in God" (Colossians 3:3). God has only one solution for sinful flesh. God forgives sinners, but He doesn't fix them. So He looks at me and He says, "as far as I am concerned, you are dead". And this is the key to the Christian life. I have died, and now Christ is my life (Galatians 2:20). I can't ever be good: God Himself hasn't been able to make me good. But He has offered me something else: He won't make me good, but He will kill me off.

In a way, God has actually gotten what He wanted from Man, but only exactly one Man. The Lord Jesus came here as a Man and did everything God wanted. And really, this was God's plan all along, wasn't it? God has placed no demands on us that He didn't intend actually to fulfill in Christ.

God has found what He was looking for in man, and He has stopped looking. So the real question is, since God is content with Christ, are we? Are we still looking for good in fallen man? Or have we agreed with God that all our goodness is in that one Man who has completely pleased the heart of God?

I know I keep harping on about this: really, I do. But that's because it needs to be harped on about. The fact is that this is foundational truth. The Christian life begins with God giving up on Adam's race. Fools that we are, we generally keep trying the very things that God has demonstrated don't work.

Walking

I want to talk about something close to my heart. I've talked (ranted?) about this before (Try harder! and Try harder (Reprise)). The fact is, the majority of "ministry" I have heard and read on "Christian living" really isn't "Christian" at all.

Let's talk about that for a minute. Christianity differs from Judaism in only a few points. Or more accurately, what the New Testament teaches differs only slightly from what the Old Testament teaches. Justification by faith alone isn't really New Testament truth: it's Old Testament truth. That's a strong claim, but it's the explicit teaching of Romans 4. Romans 4 specifically teaches the doctrine of justification by faith alone from the Old Testament: Genesis 15 and Psalm 32 are the basis of the doctrine. Genesis 15 teaches God counts a man (or woman) as righteous when he (or she) believes God. Psalm 32 teaches that a forgiven man is one to whom God "will not at all reckon sin" (v. 8). So justification by faith alone is Old Testament truth.

The birth of Christ, His death, and Resurrection are all taught in the Old Testament. The Lord Jesus Himself taught these doctrines from the Old Testament (Luke 24:22–27). So we really can't consider that to be New Testament truth.

The New Testament starts (doctrinally speaking) with the Ascension. The Lord Jesus–– having been crucified, buried, and raised (1 Corinthians 15:1–8)–– has ascended into Heaven, where He has been given the highest place (Acts 2:33; Hebrews 1:1–3; 1 Peter 3:21–22). Before the Lord Jesus went to the Cross, He promised to send the Holy Spirit (John 16:7–15). John's Gospel explicitly states that the Holy Spirit couldn't come unless the Lord Jesus was glorified (John 7:38–39), and Peter's sermon in Acts 2 pointed to the coming of the Holy Spirit as proof that Christ had been exalted in Heaven (Acts 2:32–33). So New Testament truth starts out with Christ ascended, and the Holy Spirit coming down as a result.

So the Christian life is defined as the life of women and men who are justified by faith alone in Christ alone, and indwellt by the Holy Spirit as a result of Christ's exaltation at the right hand of God in Heaven. The Christian life has a goal: it's the life of those who are waiting for the Son of God to come from Heaven and redeem our bodies (Romans 8:23; Philippians 3:21; 1 Thessalonians 1:9–10). And it has a standard, it's the life of those who are to "walk even as He walked" (1 John 2:6).

But Scripture makes it clear that the Christian life is not just characterized by a goal and a standard: it's also characterized by a power. And this is where the vast majority of "ministry" I have heard falls miserably short of Christianity as taught in Scripture. Christianity as taught in Scripture is characterized by the power of the Holy Spirit in the life of the believer. Scripture says we should walk sinlessly (1 John 2:1); how does one do that?

See, this is the problem with almost all the "ministry" I have found on Christian living. It consists largely of someone pressing on the audience the necessity of a sinless life. There is plenty of exhortation to a holy life, but there's no real teaching on how exactly a person can live that holy life. I've pointed it out before, reminding a bankrupt of his debts doesn't give him the money to pay them. Reminding a Christian of his or her need to walk worthy of our calling (Ephesians 4:1) without providing him or her with the power to do it is nothing more than legalism.

The epistle to the Galatians talks about this in some detail. The Galatians understood that the Christian life started "in the Spirit", but they were trying to finish it "in the flesh" (Galatians 3:3). They thought that human effort could enable someone to live the Christian life. But it can't. Fallen, unredeemed flesh is powerless to live out the life of Christ. And yet, that's exactly what Romans 8:23 says we have. We might be born of God, we might be justified in His sight, we might have eternal forgiveness of sins, but until the Lord Jesus comes from Heaven to change our bodies to be like His (Philippians 3:21), we live in unredeemed bodies (Romans 7:24). God does not see my sins, but there is sin in me nevertheless (Romans 7:23). And that sin makes me powerless to live the Christian life.

So the question is, if I'm powerless to live up to the calling, how can I do it? Does God call me to a life I have no hope of living? In a way He does. God calls me to a life that is lived in the power of the Holy Spirit. Remember the Galatians were trying to finish "in the flesh" what they had started "in the Spirit". What does Scripture present as the solution to their problem? "I say, Walk in the Spirit, and ye shall no way fulfil flesh’s lust" (Galatians 5:16).

When "ministry" presses on the believer the need for walking a godly life, but doesn't offer the power to do so, it leaves the believer right where the Galatians were. It leaves him or her with a desire to walk a godly path, but with no resources actually to do it, except for the efforts of the flesh. And the person who tries it finds exactly what the Scripture warns he or she will find: the harder we try to do good, the more we find we cannot (Romans 7:18–23).

I once heard a message from a brother I respected, interestingly on "The Flesh". The brother actually suggested that setting an alarm clock to get up early and read the Bible would be an effective measure in combatting the lusts of the flesh. Um, no. That's the sort of thing Galatians 5 and Romans 7 warn against. Trying to live a Christian life doesn't work. It's not possible to walk out a Christian life in the power of the will, nor the power of the alarm clock. It requires the power of the Spirit.

As soon as I say "the power of the Spirit", it's obvious that's entirely opposite to "the power of me". I should point out that I have an awful lot to learn about "walking in the Spirit". I am not at all speaking as someone who's arrived. But I can tell you two things: I can tell you what doesn't work, and I can tell you what Scripture says.

Trying harder doesn't work. It's actually impossible to try hard enough, it's actually impossible for a person to walk the Christian life in and of himself. The Christian life is exclusively for those who are "walking in the Spirit" (Romans 8:4). If you want to live the Christian life, says Galatians, you must walk in the Spirit. This is the only path that can keep us from fulfilling the lusts of the flesh. Set out to live the Christian life, and you will find yourself fulfilling the lusts of the flesh. You'll find, like the man in Romans 7, that trying harder means failing worse. But if you walk in the Spirit, says Galatians 5:16, then you'll find you're not fulfilling those lusts.

A brother pointed out to me that the real lesson of Romans 7 is that even with all the blessings in Christ, we need the Holy Spirit's intervention. Even a justified man who's been crucified with Christ is incapable of taking on the flesh. Even a man who's rejoicing in the hope of the glory of God will find that "in me, that is, in my flesh, dwells no good thing" (Romans 7:18). Even a man in the good of all the truths of Romans 1–6 will find that he is a "wretched me" (Romans 7:24). So we still find ourselves in a place of dependence.

And that's the first lesson Scripture would teach us about "walking in the Spirit." We can't walk the Christian life on our own. We can't will ourselves into it. We can't guilt ourselves (or someone else) into it. The Christian life starts with depending on Christ. We can't trust ourselves, we must trust in the God who raises the dead (2 Corinthians 1:9). Will power isn't enough, it takes the power of the Spirit of God.

Now, it's no secret I'm a big fan of J. N. Darby. I've been accused of being a "Darbyist", and that's probably more accurate than I want to admit. I'll freely admit that I'm hugely influenced by Johnny D. on this one, but this is really important. It's not some esoteric doctrine, it's the most fundamental issue of all. If I really am to live the Christian life, if I really am to walk "even as He walked", just how can I do that? The fact is, if anyone actually pays attention to this "ministry" I'm hearing, then they're buying into a life of misery. They're heading out there trying to walk out the Christian life with advice like "set your alarm clock", or "make a solemn commitment before God". They're going to find out, just like Paul did, just like everyone does, that "in me, that is, in my flesh, dwells no good thing."

I don't doubt the people who write and speak about this sort of thing are doing so out of good intentions, but the fact is, what they're teaching isn't Christianity at all.

Imperfect Sacrifices

We've been going through the epistle to the Romans in our Wednesday night Bible readings. We're up to Romans 12 now, and I have to admit it's been very convicting.

Like a lot of Christians, I've gotten caught up from time to time in a sort of Gnosticism: a sort of a sickly pseudo-spiritual affectation that looks down on the physical world. Romans 12 really smashes that sort of thing to bits:

1 I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the compassions of God, to present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your intelligent service. 2 And be not conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is the good and acceptable and perfect will of God. (Romans 12:1--2, JND)

What is the very first thing Romans 12 asserts? It's that our "intelligent" service is to present our bodies as living sacrifices.

We ought to consider the context of Romans when we think of this passage. Remember it's Romans 8 that tells us our bodies aren't yet redeemed (v. 8:23). Well, it's not only Romans 8; Philippians 3 is quite clear as well.

20 for *our* commonwealth has its existence in the heavens, from which also we await the Lord Jesus Christ as Saviour, 21 who shall transform our body of humiliation into conformity to his body of glory, according to the working of the power which he has even to subdue all things to himself. (Philippians 3:20--21, JND)

So our bodies are yet unredeemed, even though we're spiritually alive. They'll be redeemed one day: that's the promise of Philippians 3. But right now, we're still in fallen bodies. But the shocking truth of Romans 12 is that God wants us to present these fallen bodies as living sacrifices.

And this truth ought to shock us. I was listening to a preacher once who was talking about this chapter. He made the statement that, "your [reasonable] service" means, "in light of all God has done for you in chapters 1--8, the reasonable thing to do is..." Which makes me think he wasn't really paying attention to the first eleven chapters of the book. The whole point of Romans is that there's absolutely nothing you have to offer God. The first three chapters are all about all the terrible things we've done. Chapters 6--8 are all about how we were so bad that God has to apply the Cross to us to cure us of ourselves. Chapter 7 reminds us that "in me, that is, in my flesh, good does not dwell" (Romans 7:18, JND). Chapter 8 reminds us "the body is dead on account of sin, but the Spirit life on account of righteousness" (Romans 8:10, JND). If you think you have anything reasonable to offer God, then you haven't been paying attention to the first eleven chapters.

But we come to Romans 12 and we find that God does actually want something: He wants our bodies. Our fallen, sinful, unredeemed bodies. He wants the "bodi[es] of humiliation" (Philippians 3:21, JND) that Christ is coming to change.

Now, there is an Old Testament picture of this. Consider Leviticus 22:

A bullock and a sheep that hath a member too long or too short, that mayest thou offer as a voluntary offering; but as a vow it shall not be accepted. (Leviticus 22:23)

We sometimes say the Law forbade offering a blemished animal as an offering. That's not strictly true. It was possible to offer an imperfect animal, but only as a voluntary offering. It couldn't be offered as a sacrifice for sin, or as a trespass offering. It couldn't bear sins. But it could be offered as a "voluntary offering."

I am not accepted with God for the sacrifice of my body. I can't earn a single thing by offering my body as a living sacrifice. I am accepted with God for exactly one reason: the Lord Jesus has died for me. But there is this business about a "voluntary offering," and that brings us to Romans 12.

Another passage in the Old Testament presents the concept of an imperfect offerings: Leviticus 27.

9 And if it be a beast whereof men bring an offering unto Jehovah, all that they give of such unto Jehovah shall be holy. 10 They shall not alter it nor change it, a good for a bad, or a bad for a good; and if he at all change beast for beast, then it and the exchange thereof shall be holy. (Leviticus 27: 9--10, JND)

Notice that phrase in v. 10, they can't change "a good for a bad, or a bad for a good." It's not just that they couldn't exchange a worse sheep for a better one, they couldn't offer a better sheep for a worse one.

There's a trap here for us. There's a temptation to look at our bodies and think, "this one isn't good enough." And that's true, in a way. We're waiting for the Son of God to come and change our bodies to be like His. So there's a lot of truth in the idea that the bodies we have aren't worthy of Him. I mean, if they were, the Son of God wouldn't be coming to change them.

But we're in the same position as the Old Testament saints: they weren't allowed to exchange a better sacrifice for a worse one. I'm bound to offer the body I have. I can't wait until the Son of God makes it better. I can't even wait until I drop a few pounds. I need to offer the body I have.

And it surprises us, but we find they are "acceptable to God."

We do well to remember that the Son of God came here as a Man. We are fallen creatures in a fallen world, but God's solution to that isn't that we somehow step out of the physical world. We're not called to some sort of neo-Gnostic super-spiritualism. We're called to honour God in these fallen bodies, in this wicked world.

But that doesn't mean we're allowed to settle down here. We can't forget that the Son of God is coming to get us. And the second verse of Romans 12 tells us that. We can't be conformed to this world: we're called to live here, but we're not called to live for here. Our life is in Heaven (Colossians 3:1--15). Someday we'll appear with Him in glory and the world will see He really is as wonderful as we [ought to] say. Indeed, we recall that "the things that are seen are for a time, but those that are not seen eternal" (2 Corinthians 4:18, JND). This isn't home, but we live here. So we do well to remember both sides of the truth: we're called to glorify God in our physical bodies, but we look for the day when we'll see Christ face to face and forget all about this wicked old world.

One of my daughters and I were talking about baptism when she was very young (maybe 6). I was explaining to her that baptism is how we declare that this world is under judgment, and we are take the place of death with respect to it. She said to me: "So what you're saying, Dad, is that we're here on a business trip, not a vacation." That might have been the single best summary of the snare of worldliness I've ever heard. It's not that we don't live here, but we're here on business, not pleasure.

The Father and the Son

John 5 is to me one of the highest and most mysterious passages in Scripture. It takes us back into eternity before there was anything except God, and it takes us to the last day when Christ will judge all men. It pulls back the curtain a bit and gives us a rare and touching glimpse into the Godhead so we can see a bit of the eternal relationship between the Father and the Son.

The chapter opens with the Lord Jesus healing a man on the Sabbath, a man who'd been bed-ridden for 38 years. The Pharisees accuse Him of working on the Sabbath (which He had, in fact, done). The response of the Lord Jesus to the accusation of the Pharisees opens into an astonishing treatise on relationships in the Godhead.

The Lord Jesus' answer to the charge of working on the Sabbath is actually fairly subtle, and I have to admit I didn't really understand it until fairly recently. The argument basically boils down to this: the Son can't do anything on His own, He only does what He sees the Father do (v. 19). And the Father works on the Sabbath (v. 17), so the Son must work on the Sabbath. It's what the Father has taught Him to do.

I find it interesting that the Scripture doesn't tell us that Christ didn't really break the Sabbath. That's not the point. The Son had been told to do something by the Father, and that meant He wasn't going to keep the Sabbath. Interestingly, there is an Old Testament precedent for this in Joshua. It was a few years ago that an older brother pointed out that Joshua and the people were told to encircle Jericho once every day for six days, and seven times on the seventh. No matter how you figure it, those people broke the Sabbath. But they did it because God told them to. Similarly, Christ broke the Sabbath because He was obeying the Father.

But He goes beyond explaining His actions in vv. 19--30. He starts with an explanation of the relationship between the Father and the Son: "the Father loves the Son and shews him all things which he himself does" (v. 20). There is an interesting image here: the Father is bringing the Son into the family business. The Son doesn't do what He wants, He does what He sees His Father do. The Father deliberately shows the Son what it is He's doing.

Notice the titles Christ uses for Himself here: He mainly refers to Himself in John 5 as "the Son", but in v. 25 He's the "Son of God" and in v. 27 He's the "Son of man." Each of these titles holds a distinctive meaning. When the Lord Jesus refers to Himself in relationship with the Father, He calls Himself "Son." When He talks about raising the dead, He's "Son of God"; and when He talks about eternal judgment, He's "Son of man". In fact, it's because He's Son of man that all judgment is given to Him (v. 27).

(We should be very careful when we discuss Christ, because none of us can really understand Him: "no one knows the Son but the Father" (Matthew 11:27, JND). But I think it's worth emphasizing that when the Scripture talks about eternal relationships in the Godhead, it uses the title "Son", not "Son of God". Certainly Christ is the eternal Son of the eternal Father, but the title that conveys that isn't "Son of God," it's "Son". I say that carefully, because I've heard a lot of people insist that Christ is the "eternal Son of God". I don't think that's what Scripture teaches: He's the "eternal Son"; the title "Son of God" is different. This certainly isn't a hill I'm willing to die on--- I appreciate they're only trying to highlight Eternal Sonship--- but I think a careful reading of Scripture indicates the eternal title is "Son", rather than "Son of God". cf. Hebrews 1 & 2.)

There are several passages in Scripture that specifically outline God's purpose. For example, in John 4 the Father is seeking worshipers. Exodus 29 tells us Jehovah saved the children of Israel "out of the land of Egypt, to dwell in their midst: I am Jehovah their God" (Exodus 29:46, JND). Here in John 5 we have another purpose of God verse, v. 23. It is the Father's goal that all men should honour the Son just like they honour the Father. This verse has been very important to me over the last 15 or 20 years. It's like God's grand plan is really just for all men to honour His Son.

Now, the Lord Jesus gives us three specific similarities between the Son and the Father:

1. He raises the dead (v. 21)
2. He is the judge of all men (v. 22)
3. He has life in Himself (v. 26)

Raising the dead is God's exclusive right. It's not simply that only God has the right to raise the dead, but only God has the power to do so. We can't raise the dead, no matter how much we'd like to. Sure, we might witness a "medical miracle" where someone who's as good as dead recovers. Or we might even see someone "clinically dead" recover after a brief time. But the Lord Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead four days later. He'd been wrapped and buried: he wasn't in a coma, he was dead. But death is no barrier to the Son of God, He raises the dead. And He quickens "whom He will" (v. 21). It's not that He's under any obligation: He raises whomever He wants to raise. No one else gets a say in the matter.

Now, He applies this to two cases. The first is what we might call a spiritual resurrection in v. 25. The Scripture often refers to man's fallen state as a spiritual death. Christ's solution to that is to raise and quicken us. Notice Ephesians and Colossians follow this same thread, but Romans takes the opposite view. In Romans it's the lost who are alive (Romans 1--3), and the saved are dead (Romans 6).

The second application is two physical resurrections in vv. 29 & 30. One is a resurrection to life, the other a resurrection to judgment. You can't be in both groups: if you're in the resurrection to judgment, you're not in the resurrection to life. Notice this is what He insists on in v. 24. If we hear His word and believe on Him who sent Him, we have life and don't come into judgment. It's not just that we're judged and acquitted, but we're never even summoned.

This brings up an important point: judgment is always related to our physical bodies. When the dead are judged, they're raised first. And how are they judged? They're judged for what they did in their bodies.

There is no escaping the judgment of God. If you die first, He'll raise you from the dead to judge you. There's no statute of limitations, there's no way to avoid the bailiff. The only escape is to believe and pass from death into life: Christ has already been judged for those who believe. He has taken their punishment, so there's no judgment left for them.

I should think to the Pharisees at the time, certainly the next claim would be been shocking. They would have known that Abraham called God "the Judge of all the earth" (Genesis 18:25, JND), and here Christ is claiming that He is the exclusive Judge (v. 22). The Father has given all judgment to the Son. The Father won't judge anyone, the Son will judge everyone. Now certainly the Lord Jesus is God. I'm not denying that. But within the Godhead it's the Son who will judge.

I find it interesting that He is Judge because He is Son of man. This is closely echoed by Paul on Mars Hill: it's by this Man God will judge the world (Acts 17:31). Paul goes further than John 5 and tells us God has announced this publicly through the Resurrection. The message of the Resurrection, Paul says, is that God has publicly named His Judge by raising Him from the dead. But again, it's the "Man Christ Jesus" that will be Judge. Christ won't judge all men as God (although He is God), but as Man. He will judge as One who knows exactly what it's like to be a Man in a fallen world.

William Kelly says God created this world for Christ to have dominion over it:

Man is called to rule, to have dominion. God was looking on to His Son, the Son of man. For Him the habitable earth is destined. God has not made it in vain. (William Kelly, Hebrews, Chapter 2)

God created the world and gave it to man to have dominion over it. But it wasn't really Adam God intended to rule; it was the Last Adam, Jesus Christ. It is as Man that He will take dominion, and it is as Man that He will judge.

The last similarity Christ reveals is "as the Father has life in himself, so he has given to the Son also to have life in himself" (v. 26, JND). I find this one of the most mysterious and difficult verses in Scripture. Here's a time when the Son pulls back the curtain and lets us see into the light unapproachable where God dwells, and we can't really understand what we see there.

I have no idea what it means that the Father has "given to the Son also to have life in himself." No clue.

But little as I understand it, this verse forms the basis of Christianity in a sense. Colossians 3 says, "When the Christ is manifested who [is] our life, then shall *ye* also be manifested with him in glory" (Colossians 3:4, JND). It's not just that Christ has life in Himself, but that He shares it with us. And it's not that He gives us a little piece of it and sends us on our way: but He Himself actually is our Life. John says it a little differently: "God has given to us eternal life; and this life is in his Son" (1 John 5:11, JND).

God has no blessing for me that's not in Christ, and He has no intention of ever taking it out of Christ to give it to me. God doesn't give me blessings per se. He gives me Christ, and in Him are all the blessings God has.

Christianity is not just that Christ has died for me. That's important, but it's not really Christianity. That's not much more than Abraham, Moses, and the prophets expected. The really amazing thing about Christianity is that the Son of God has died for us and has given us an eternal claim on Him. Christianity is not so much justification: it's the ongoing, eternal, and uninterrupted relationship we have with the Son of God. He's died for us, He also lives for us. And He is personally our Life.

We're going to spend eternity getting a better idea who Christ is. And when we get to the end of eternity (you know what I mean), we won't be done. Of course, the real goal is not to wait until we're there to get to know Him. I'm not sure I'll ever understand this chapter: I'm just a creature after all. But it's in looking at Christ that we become like Him (2 Corinthians 3:18). So maybe the point isn't understanding, but just in looking and enjoying.

Dead with Christ

This is loosely based on some talks I gave over the last few weeks. I thought it would be worthwhile to share online.

11 Wherefore did I not die from the womb, --come forth from the belly and expire? 12 Why did the knees meet me? and wherefore the breasts, that I should suck? 13 For now should I have lain down and been quiet; I should have slept: then had I been at rest, 14 With kings and counsellors of the earth, who build desolate places for themselves, 15 Or with princes who had gold, who filled their houses with silver; 16 Or as a hidden untimely birth I had not been; as infants that have not seen the light. 17 There the wicked cease from troubling; and there the wearied are at rest. 18 The prisoners together are at ease; they hear not the voice of the taskmaster. 19 The small and great are there, and the bondman freed from his master. (Job 3:11--19, JND)

In Job 3, Job laments his life by saying he'd have been better off dead. He makes several statements about death that catch our attention, especially in verses 17 through 19. Job says death is where the bondman is free from his master. This has a direct application when we turn to the New Testament, where the Holy Spirit uses the principle of ``freedom in death'' for three relationships:

1. we are dead to sin (Romans 6)
2. we are dead to the Law (Romans 7, Galatians 2)
3. we are dead to the world (Galatians 6, Colossians 2 & 3)

Let's look at each of these in more detail.

Romans 5 ends with the statement that where sin abounds, grace more-than-abounds. And so Romans 6 starts with the obvious question: if more sin means more grace, should we just live in sin to get more grace?

Alan Gamble said that this question is the inevitable result of the Gospel, and I think he's correct. Paul's Gospel says,

Be it known unto you, therefore, brethren, that through this man remission of sins is preached to you, and from all things from which ye could not be justified in the law of Moses, in him every one that believes is justified (Acts 13:38 & 39)

If we're going to preach a Gospel of absolute remission, a Gospel where any sinner who doesn't work but believes is justified and will never be judged for his sins--- in other words, the same Gospel Paul preached, the same Gospel Romans teaches--- then we're going to have to answer the question, ``So should we just keep sinning?''. In fact, Gamble says if you don't get that question, you're probably not preaching the Gospel at all.

So Romans 6 opens with the inevitable question: should we just keep sinning? Please note the question is not, ``Can we just keep sinning?'' That question is easy to answer, if you understand the Gospel. Of course you can! If you really understand the Gospel the Scripture teaches, there's no question whether you can keep sinning. God justifies the ungodly. God justifies the one who doesn't work but believes. God will not impute iniquity to the one who believes. One who believes is justified while he is still ungodly, and God declares him righteous regardless of what he does. But that's not the question of Romans 6. Romans 6 answers the question, ``Shall we continue in sin?'' And the answer is ``Absolutely not!''.

Why shouldn't we continue in sin? Is it because God will punish us? Is it because He will un-justify us? No, it's because we have died to sin (Romans 6:2). We were baptized into Christ, and thus have been baptized into His death.

Are you ignorant that we, as many as have been baptised unto Christ Jesus, have been baptised unto his death? We have been buried therefore with him by baptism unto death, in order that, even as Christ has been raised up from among the dead by the glory of the Father, so *we* also should walk in newness of life. For if we are become identified with him in the likeness of his death, so also we shall be of his resurrection; knowing this, that our old man has been crucified with him, that the body of sin might be annulled, that we should no longer serve sin. (Romans 6:3--6, JND)

Our old man was crucified with Christ, so that the body of sin is annulled, and thus we no longer have to serve sin.

This passage has caused some considerable trouble in people's minds. On the one hand, there are those who would tell us that since the old man was crucified with Christ, there is no longer sin in us; on the other hand, there are those who insist that since sin is clearly still in us, the old man might be crucified, but he's still there... just not quite dead (or something). Both of these views overlook what Romans actually teaches. Ultimately, it comes down to a misunderstanding of what the "old man" actually is, and a confusion of the "old man" with "the flesh". The "old man" isn't something I have he was something I was. I was an "old man", a man of Adam's nature and lineage. But that old man has died, and thus I'm not that man any more. So does that mean I'm without sin? Not at all, nor does Romans 6 actually teach that. Romans 6 tells us that the old man's death is what frees me from sin: sin is clearly still in the picture, but it's not in control because I'm dead to it. I'm not that old man any more, and thus I'm not a slave to sin. Now, Romans 7 will expand on that and introduce another character: the flesh. Even though I'm not the old man anymore, I'm still living in his body (the "body of sin"). That body will be redeemed one day, and I will be completely without sin. But until that day, I live in a sinful body, even though I am dead to sin. That's the teaching of Romans 7:17--24 as well as Romans 8:1--14.

So why shouldn't we live in sin? Because we're dead to sin. We've died with Christ, and the death has severed the ties with sin. Sin rules over Adam's descendants, but Christ has freed us from sin when we died with Him. A dead man is free from the rule of sin. I'm not Adam's descendant any more: that life ended at the Cross, so now I have a new life, which is under no obligation to sin.

Notice I still have this thing called "the flesh", which is introduced in Romans 7. Romans 6 doesn't deal with "the flesh", and Romans 7 doesn't deal with "the old man": they are distinct things in Romans. One is what I was, the other is something I have. I'm not the old man anymore, but I won't be free of the legacy of sin from Adam until Christ transforms my vile body into the likeness of His glorious body (Philippians 3:21). I'm not the old man anymore, but I still have to live in his body.

But the point is not that I am sin-free, but that I am free from sin. Sin has no obligation over me, I have a new life. I have died with Christ so that I can walk in "newness of life" (Romans 6:4). The life I live now isn't my own, it's Christ's (Galatians 2:20). Thus, I can walk in "newness of life."

And notice I'm not told to die to sin, I'm told I have died to sin. It's not something I have to do, it's something that's already been done. My obligation isn't to die, my obligation is to reckon that to be true (Romans 6:11). I have died with Christ, I am dead to sin. My responsibility is to think that way; to believe what God has said about me.

As a side note, there is an expression you'll hear about "dying to self". You won't find the expression "die to self" or "dying to self" in Scripture: it's just not there. Scripture doesn't confound the new creation with the old: the old man has been crucified with Christ, there's no more dying for him to do. The new man doesn't need to be crucified with Christ, it's been created for newness of life, not for death. So we're not called to die to self, we're told we have died with Christ.

There is a sense in Scripture where death works in us. That's the whole argument of 2 Corinthians 4 and 5. But notice that death works in us so that the life of Christ is manifested in our mortal bodies. Again, it's not that we die to self, nor that we need to die with Christ. We have died with Christ, but there is a practical working of death that works in our unredeemed bodies. I am in Christ, I am a new creature. But I am still waiting in the redemption of my sinful body. That day is coming: the Son of God is coming from Heaven to transform this mortal body (Romans 8:22 & 23; 1 Corinthians 15:49--58; Philippians 3:21), and then I'll have a body like His. Until that day, I am living in an old man's body, a body of death (Romans 7:24), a body with sin in it (Romans 8:10). Death works in that body, because it's as death works in me that the life of Jesus is manifested in my mortal body (2 Corinthians 4:7--12).

So because I've died with Christ, I'm dead to sin. Romans 7 takes it further and says that since I've died with Christ, I'm dead to the Law (Romans 7:4).

So that, my brethren, *ye* also have been made dead to the law by the body of the Christ, to be to another, who has been raised up from among the dead, in order that we might bear fruit to God. For when we were in the flesh the passions of sins, which were by the law, wrought in our members to bring forth fruit to death; but now we are clear from the law, having died in that in which we were held, so that we should serve in newness of spirit, and not in oldness of letter. (Romans 7:4--6, JND)

I've talked about the Law before, and I don't want to go on at great lengths about it again. But we recall that the Law was given through Moses in order to demonstrate man's sinfulness (Romans 3:20). This is the whole argument of Romans 2:12--3:20. Before Moses, men were sinners. The Law didn't create sin: murder and adultery and idolatry were wrong before the Law forbade them. But the Law was given to make men conscious of sin. Sin is lawlessness: it's a creature saying ``you're not the boss of me!'' (1 John 3:4). Transgression is violating a specific command. The Law specifically gave rules for men to obey. When men violated the rules, they trangressed. The Law doesn't make man a sinner, but it makes man a transgressor. Man was a sinner before the Law was given, but he became guilty of transgressing specific rules once those rules were given.

So Romans 7 describes what happens when a man tries to keep the Law. It begins with the specific statement that we've died to the Law so that we can bring forth fruit to God. We can't be fruitful and have the Law at the same time. If we want to bring forth fruit to God, we have to be free from the Law. The rest of Romans 7 describes the problems when a man tries to keep the Law: he can't. The Law was given to ferret out sin and make it obvious. When we (who have sin in our flesh) try to keep the Law, it does exactly what God designed it to do: it finds the sin in our flesh and makes it obvious to us.

Galatians 2 takes up this theme, but here we've died to the Law so that we can live unto God (Galatians 2:19). So here again, we need to die to Law so that we can live to God. We might say that living to God requires dying to Law. I've died with Christ, and thus I'm dead to [the] Law. Because I'm dead to the Law, I can live unto God. Because I'm dead to the Law, I can bring forth fruit to God.

Now we reach the conundrum: does dying to law mean I can just do whatever I want? In a sense it does; but that's kind of missing the point. Scripture doesn't say I've been made dead to the Law to live in lawlessness; it says I've been made dead to the Law so that I can bring forth fruit to God.

Does my dying to Law mean I'm not bound by the Ten Commandments? Yes. That's exactly what it means. It means I don't have a checklist for things I'm allowed to do and things I'm not allowed to do. My standard of conduct isn't a set of rules, it's Christ Himself.

Although I'm dead to the Law, I'm still called to obey. Not obey the Law, mind you, but obey Christ. I am not under Law (neither the Law of Moses nor any other law), but I am legitimately (i.e. legally) subject to Christ (1 Corinthians 9:21). I am dead to sin, so I am not to live lawlessly, but God doesn't deal with me on the principle of Law. We are saved by grace and are called to walk by grace. We are to walk as we have received the Christ (Colossians 2:6).

So I'm dead to sin and dead to the Law. Is that all? No, Galatians 6 gives us a third "dead to":

As many as desire to have a fair appearance in the flesh, these compel you to be circumcised, only that they may not be persecuted because of the cross of Christ. For neither do they that are circumcised themselves keep the law; but they wish you to be circumcised, that they may boast in your flesh. But far be it from me to boast save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom the world is crucified to me, and I to the world. (Galatians 6:12--14, JND)

I have died with Christ, and therefore I am dead to the world.

I was in a meeting once where an older brother got up and spoke about the second shortest verse in the Bible: "Remember Lot's wife" (Luke 17:32). I have to admit that address really touched my conscience. I'm a lot like Lot's wife.

If we consider Lot's wife, we realize that her sin wasn't that she insisted on staying in Sodom. Rather, having been delivered from Sodom, she turned and looked back. That sounds like me in a lot of ways. The Son of God came and died here for my sins to save me from the present evil world. I'm dead to the world by the Cross of Christ, and now I need to beware, because it's all too easy to look back over my shoulder at it.

Colossians 2:20--3:6 is all about our relationship to the world. Paul asks in Colossians 2, "If you've died with Christ from the elements of the world," then why do you practice a worldly religion? Worldly religion is all about ordinances: you can't touch this or taste that or handle something else. That religion has an appearance of wisdom, he says, but it's all done to the satisfaction of the flesh. It doesn't do your spirit a bit of good. And this sort of worldly religion is all around us. Whether it's the modern-day Galatians who forbid eating pork, or the stereotype evangelicals who believe you can't cuss, smoke, drink, or dance; in either case they're propping up a fleshly religion.

What Colossians teaches as the unworldly walk of a Christian is this: "have your mind on the things that are above, not on the things that are on the earth; for ye have died, and your life is hid with the Christ in God" (Colossians 3:2 & 3, JND). This isn't a religion about what you eat or drink or smoke: it's a walk that's characterized and empowered by the life of Christ. Christ is in Heaven, at God's right hand. He is my life, because I have died with Him. Christ, my life, empowers a life that's totally different from the world around me.

I confess I don't live up to this to any appreciable degree. But I can't help but wonder what my life would look like if I really practiced Colossians 3 Christianity. If my mind was in Heaven (where, after all, my Head is), and my affections were up there too... what would my life be like? The worldly religion of ordinances isn't what I've been called to live out. I might not cuss or drink or smoke or dance, but I can't help think that's not what people would notice.

It seems to me the key to avoiding the pitfall of the world is our affections. 1 John 2 says "love not the world". Colossians 3 says "set your affections on things above." It's a question of our hearts. Christ is in Heaven, and my heart ought to be full of Him there. Satan's goal is not really to make us terrible sinners, he just needs us to not be looking at Christ.

After all, I've been called to live in this world, but not be of it. Someone else observed we're really good at being of it, while managing not to be in it. We have Christian schools, Christian camps, and all manner of para-church organizations. We can quite feasibly make it through a week without ever actually stepping outside our little Christian bubbles. But ironically, what's going on in those bubbles is exactly the same thing that's going on in the world. We might not be brushing shoulders with sinners, but we're living just like them.

So I've died with Christ. My history ended at the Cross, so far as God is concerned. I now live a new life, a life of faith in the Son of God. And it's not really I who live it at all, but Christ who lives in me. That's normal Christianity according to Scripture. I don't live up to it very well, but it's my calling. Because I've died with Christ, I'm dead to sin, the Law, and the world. I need to remember that, and not go back to the very things God has freed me from.

Resurrection

I've been thinking a lot about resurrection, and I wanted to jot down some of those thoughts.

The Resurrection of Christ is probably the single most important point of Christian doctrine. It's arguably true that Christianity is the belief that Christ rose bodily from the grave. This was the watershed issue when Paul spoke to the Athenians; it was when he introduced the resurrection that his listeners decided he might be crazy. 1 Corinthians 15 makes the stunning statement that without the bodily resurrection of Christ there is no Gospel.

But if there is not a resurrection of those that are dead, neither is Christ raised: but if Christ is not raised, then, indeed, vain also is our preaching, and vain also your faith. (1 Corinthians 15: 13 & 14, JND).

The Lord Jesus spoke about three different resurrections in John's gospel:

1. His own, the Resurrection of Christ (John 2:19--22)
2. the resurrection of life (John 5:29)
3. and the resurrection of judgment (John 5:29)

The Lord seems to put the last two at the same time ("the last day"), but I'm not sure they happen precisely together. Revelation 20 certainly discusses the "resurrection of judgment" in vv. 11--15, which comes at least 1,000 years after the "first resurrection" of vv. 4--6: "the rest of the dead did not live till the thousand years had been completed. This is the first resurrection" (Revelation 20:5, JND).

There is a fourth resurrection discussed in 1 Thessalonians 4:13--18. There, we have "for the Lord himself, with an assembling shout, with archangel’s voice and with trump of God, shall descend from heaven; and the dead in Christ shall rise first;" (v. 16, JND). I suppose those who don't hold a premillenial view consider this to be a parallel account of the "first resurrection" of Revelation 20. It seems to me it can't be, because Paul sees this as an "any moment" thing, where the timing of the resurrection in Revelation 20 is fairly well detailed. But ultimately I'm not interested in eschatological argument at the moment.

My favourite expositors claim the resurrection in Daniel 12:2 isn't a literal, bodily resurrection. They interpret that as a figurative resurrection along the lines of Ezekiel 37. Certainly Ezekiel 37 is a figurative resurrection: the passage itself provides the interpretation for the vision. I'm not so sure about Daniel 12. Revelation 20 makes it clear that the millenial kingdom starts with the resurrection of the tribulation saints who've been beheaded for Christ (v. 4), while "the rest of the dead did not live till the thousand years had been completed" (v. 5, JND). I don't see a real problem in connecting this with Daniel 12.

At any rate, regardless of your eschatological views, Scripture makes it clear that the Resurrection has already begun: it started when Christ rose bodily from the grave. This is why 1 Corinthians 15:23 refers to the Resurrection of Christ as the "first-fruits". He began something totally new that He will share with us. Not "us" as merely the Church, but "us" including every saint as far back as Abel. We will all be raised to everlasting life.

Of course, 1 Thessalonians 4 and 1 Corinthians 15 reveal a "mystery": some of us will participate in Resurrection without actually dying (1 Corinthians 15:51, 1 Thessalonians 4:15--18). Some of us will actually be raised without dying! This is the hope of the Christian:

for *our* commonwealth has its existence in the heavens, from which also we await the Lord Jesus Christ as Saviour, who shall transform our body of humiliation into conformity to his body of glory, according to the working of the power which he has even to subdue all things to himself. (Philippians 3:20 & 21, JND)

We are waiting for God's Son from Heaven, whom He raised from the dead (1 Thessalonians 1:10). He will change our "vile bodies" to be like His, and we'll be with Him forever.

Morally, Christians are called to live out a life of resurrection, even though we haven't yet seen it happen. This isn't just a motivational technique, it's the ontological doctrine of the Epistles. Romans teaches we're free from sin because we've been crucified with Christ: we're no longer the "old man" we were, we're now to walk in newness of life (Romans 6:4--11). Colossians 2 & 3 take this further: not only have we been crucified with Christ, we were raised with Him and are thus in a totally separate sphere. Having died with Him, we're not to subject ourselves to fleshly ordinances (Colossians 2:20--23). Religious rules and shibboleths aren't part of the new life we are to live in Christ: they appeal to the flesh, but have no value to us. And, having been raised with Him, we're to have our affections where He is, at God's right hand (Colossians 3:1--4). One day Christ will be manifested, and we too will be manifested with Him in glory.

Ephesians takes this even farther: we've been raised with Christ, quickened, and taken to Heaven "with Christ". God's estimation is that we're so completely "with Christ" that we're even sitting with Him "in the heavenlies" (Ephesians 2:5--9).

The Christian is one who lives between the Resurrections: he has already been raised spiritually, he awaits the bodily resurrection that will complete the deal. Really, all our problems come from the fact that we have a foot in both the old and new creations. We ourselves are risen with Christ: we are new creations (2 Corinthians 5:17). But we're still in old creation bodies. We're new creatures, but we're in old bodies. So Romans 6 tells us we're free from sin: we've been crucified with Christ; but Romans 7 tells us we have "the flesh"--- not the "old man", but "the flesh"--- we're in old bodies, there's a "law of sin" in our members so that whenever we want to do good, evil is there with us. Romans 8 gives us the solution: our bodies will one day be redeemed and we'll be free of the sin in them. But until that day, we need our Deliverer because we are utterly powerless over the sin in our flesh.

Our hope is not that we'll die and go to heaven. Our hope is that the Son of God will come and transform our vile bodies. When He comes, He will bring those who have "fallen asleep in Jesus" with Him: they won't miss out on the transformation just because they've died. In fact, the departed saints in Heaven are waiting for the very same event. We don't long to be out of our bodies: it's not our longing to be "unclothed" (2 Corinthians 2:4). The departed saints haven't yet arrived: they are waiting for the shout much more diligently and earnestly than we. The Lord Jesus is coming to get us: He will bring them with Him, and they'll be raised in new bodies. Those of us who are still here will be changed in a moment into bodies like His, and we'll all leave together with Him. That's our hope. That's what the Apostles waited for, that's what we've been called to wait for.