In Ruminations on a Funeral we explored 1 Corinthians 15:50-58. Now we want to take a little side trail (or rabbit trail) and think about this a little differently and in some different contexts.
1 Corinthians 15:53 describes what happens both now, at death, and in the future when Jesus will come back and get “those who remain.” (1 Thessalonians 4:15)
For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality.
As we stand before an open coffin, we view the first step in this process. Here are more details.
In order for us to put on incorruption, we must put off corruption. And to put on immortality, we have to give up mortality. That is the picture in the coffin. I have noticed that some viewers reach out and touch the body, like a last caress. Others, myself included, do not. I know that it will not matter to Grandad, or whoever, and I do not need to be reminded that “he” is not there. He is gone. (I will use the generic personal, Grandad.)
And there is some sorrow involved. This “cutting” the ties of earth includes our personal attachments to Grandad. He has put off the mortal and corruptible. And he has a much better body waiting. Both the living and the dead, (those who sleep) will all be changed when the Lord comes back. (1 Corinthians 15:51) But those who have gone on before have severed ties with “those who remain.” There is nothing wrong with mourning this loss.
Jesus, in fact mourned Lazarus in John 11. I do not think that Jesus was mourning because Lazarus had died, because He would raise His friend from the dead in a couple of minutes. Jesus mourned that Lazarus, and all of mankind, had to suffer such a separation from the body and family. This was not how creation was to end. (We will not discuss the dichotomy of what could have been versus what was, or God’s how sovereignty is involved in all of this.) Man chose to sever the relationship with God by disobeying and this is the inevitable consequence. So all must die, because of sin. That is a “tear worthy” thought.
It hurts to lose a loved one. That is not debatable nor should it be denied or condemned. We recognize that in order for change to occur, some things have to change. Corruptible does not mix with incorruptible. Mortal does not coexist with immortality. We give up the lesser, in exchange for the greater.
An illustration occurred to me. A caterpillar spins a cocoon about its worm body and undergoes a metamorphosis. The cocoon is a snug, supporting structure, but in order to emerge as a butterfly the former worm has to “cut a few strings.” If the cocoon retains its integrity, the butterfly will die.
Our lives here are like that, both in death, and even in events of our lives. We have to cut some strings to leave, what Shakespear called, “this mortal coil,” and move on to our new home. Those who are left suffer bereavement from separation. Other events in our lives often require that we cut some ties or strings to existing people, places, and things.
And like our butterfly, and Grandad, what lies beyond far exceeds what is left behind. Does the butterfly mourn for its decimated cocoon? It fulfilled a crucial role in its development, but once it is airborne, I doubt that its erstwhile home is mourned or even remembered. We are a “little” higher order than our Lepidoptera friend, but the cutting of strings is just as critical in our development as it was to him. Our memories can retain the connections, but a physical retention would cripple us just as surely as some uncut strands of the cocoon would doom the butterfly.
Changing circumstances usually call for a “cutting” of former ties in order to progress to another, often higher plane. With the promise of God sustaining us, we revel in the opportunity to watch Him “weave” a new home for us in the execution of His perfect will.
I would posit the proposition that the butterfly does not regret his “loss.” Speaking anthropomorphically, he never gives it a second thought. He engaged the change, in fact participated in it, and enthusiastically flew into the future. Grandad did the same. So can we as we follow the Lord’s leading. With, and in, this confidence, we face the future.
Bid the cocoon, “Goodbye.”
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