It should come as no surprise to those who have been to funerals of late. If there is one thing missing from many (dare I say most) funerals today, it is the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting. We all know how quickly Christians warmed up to the idea of a celebration of the life of the deceased instead of a funeral and how easily the eulogy replaced the resurrection and eternal life as the core purpose and comfort of the sermon. It was not simply because we love sentiment more than truth but because we have become so comfortable with the notion of death to help us define life that we cannot define it at all without death. In fact, many folks are relieved at the prospect of death and happily ready to cede all existence away than to hang their future on an eternity filled with uncertainty and devoid of the pursuits that fill us with happiness now. At best, we would consent to the idea of a virtual life that continues after the body lay in the grave or the ashes in an urn but even then we seem to want assurances that this virtual life will not be all that different than our present life (and will also have an ending point when we tire of it all).
Our culture loves the idea of limited do overs -- the opportunity to start again with all that we know now if only to avoid making the same mistakes. But that is hardly what the Christian hope promises. Our culture loves the idea of the perfect happiness of a life of amusement and entertainment without having to deal with those who reject us or our chosen leisure activity. That is also hardly what the Christian hope promises. There are some who not so jokingly confess that the idea of an eternity of choir singing or praying or praising God sounds entirely boring and might be cause to choose hell over heaven any day of the week. As the joke goes, at least I will know more people down there. That is also hardly what the Christian hope promises.
The promise that accompanies the resurrection of the body to a new and glorious state and the gift of eternity come with the rehabilitation of the heart so that the things we do on a limited basis today might be desired and done forever. It is not that we will be the same people in a new flesh and at a new address but that what was begun in us and is now complete will be brought to perfect consummation. Translated into English that means that our hearts will change, our desires will change, and the objects of our joy will change. Perhaps that is the problem -- we do not want to be changed. In other words, it is not simply that we find the idea of the resurrection untenable or the idea of heaven unthinkable but that we reject these ideas point blank because we prefer to be who we are even if that would mean suffering something for it. Such is the state of affairs to be pondered by those who preach and teach the Christian faith today. We are more and more wedded to our worldly view of everything, including ourselves, and less inclined toward any version of the future that would require us to surrender that view of ourselves and what we fancy.
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