I played piano for a funeral this morning. Funerals make me think.
One day, if the Lord doesn’t come back first, this body is going to stop, whether by external or internal means. These fingertips won’t be able to feel the raised spot where a scrape is healing on the back of my hand; these eyes will stop seeing the sunlight, the lamplight, or my own blue veins. It will all stop.
But I also know this: after I’ve stopped it won’t be the end; I shall be raised incorruptible.
Resurrection. The apostle Paul knew and insisted that everything hinges on this. If the dead aren’t raised, we are pitiable indeed, for then Christ himself could not have been raised, and our hope is merely to join a dead man in being dead.
But the dead are raised. Christ rose. I shall rise.
It turns reality inside-out to think about it. All the best and most precious things of now are just shadows of the yet-to-be; and, while we live and work and invest here, it’s all for eternity, and that’s where we should set our hearts.
I don’t know quite how to balance it all. How to be here, but for there. How to be now, but for then. How to die daily, for the resurrection.
But I know that this is why we can sing triumphant hymns at funerals. And in that I rejoice.
It took me more than five minutes. But I did use Kate Motaung’s Five Minute Friday prompt: rise. The button above will take you to her site.
©2015 by Stacy Nott