1 Corinthians 15:54-58

So we are now almost at the end of 1 Corinthians 15. This chapter is Paul's great treatise on the resurrection--both on the resurrection that happened to Jesus on the first Easter and the resurrection that will happen for the Christian in the future as a result of that past victory of Christ. The doctrine was important for Paul because the entire gospel hung upon it. The resurrection is the victory of Christ over all things, and because of that victory, we can have the courage to face both life and death. The resurrection is a wonder, something which reveals the power and glory of God. And now Paul brings the whole thing to a climax in these final words, which describe the hope of the resurrection.

We are rapidly approaching Christmas, and in just a few more months, it will be Easter. When we talk of these holidays, we think of looking to the past to what God did for us in the events of the incarnation. But they should also be time for looking ahead, looking forward to the return of Christ and all that will happen on that great and terrible day of the Lord. And while there is, and should be, a certain fear and solemnity that comes with that thought, there should also be a feeling of hope and rejoicing. 

God is still at work at the present. There is joy and fulfillment in serving Christ here and now, but here and now is not where our eyes should be finally focused. Love and faith may be virtues of the moment, but hope always looks ahead. There is much good in this world as it is, but there is very little hope. To find that, we must look beyond the world, beyond this life, to the promise of God and the resurrection.

We have hope of an end to death. 

Death is the one fixed and final certainty in life, humanly considered. If we look at the future, we don't know what kind of joys or sorrows we will experience. We can't know with certainty what tomorrow will hold; we don't know what people may come into our lives or what events may transpire around us. We can't even know for sure about the weather. The only thing certain about our life is the fact that it will not last forever. Whether we face death with fear or with courage, with regret or with relief, we must face it.

Even talking about it seems strange and morbid, largely because it is such a definite thing. We do not usually spend time talking or thinking about things which we know for sure—we debate things that are debatable and discuss things which are open to discussion. There is really nothing new to say about death. It is something more certain and unchanging than the dark bulk of the earth on which we live--because the earth is constantly moving and changing, but death remains always the same. The act of dying now is not in principle any different than it was for the first man who died.

I think it is just as well not to spend too much time dwelling on this subject. But we have to face it in order to understand the strange, supernatural explosion of joy which is verses 54-55. This is no naive denial of death—Paul knew that death was real; the first time we meet Paul, he was watching a man die. Death was quite real to him, but he knew of something else real. It is certainly true that we can be happy in life even with the reality of death in the background—but that is not the message of 1 Corinthians. 

The joyful declaration of this passage is the reality that somehow, someday, this reality will be changed. Death—the one certain, solid, undeniable fact of life—will not always be certain. Death is an inescapable part of this world—but there is coming a world in which it will have no part at all. Mortality will be replaced with immortality; decay and destruction will be replaced by that which cannot decay. Death will be swallowed up, eclipsed, overturned, thrown away, and forgotten. That is the victory which Christ achieved; that is the consummation that the Christian awaits—the moment of the last trump when the great long reign of death finally comes to an end. As John Doane triumphantly proclaimed: “Death thou shalt die.”

When we speak about death, we usually mean that last moment of a person's life, the moment when their heart stops beating. But there is a sense in which death is a part of us from the very beginning of our lives. We live in a dying world; that is, a world in which death is both intrinsic and inevitable to every living thing. I think that is what Paul means by referring to our current existence and our current bodies as 'corruptible.' To be alive in this world means to be capable of suffering, of decay, and ultimately death. It isn't an unfortunate accident, but something inherent in being the kind of creature that we are.

Death colors all of life. So much of what we do is shaped by a knowledge, conscious or subconscious, that life is short and fragile and that death is inevitable. We are all born with this heavy burden of death. Many people (most of the time) do not think about it, but it is always there, weighing us down. But someday, that burden will be lifted. Someday that shadow will no longer darken the background of our minds. Someday, we will never have to factor death and danger into our plans. 

As things stand now, death is a reality. But it is not the final reality. Death is such a fixed and final part of our world that we cannot imagine what the world would be like without it. We have all lived our entire life with the sound of death roaring in our ears; we cannot yet imagine what it will sound like when it has been silenced at last. But the knowledge that it will happen—that death will someday be swallowed up in victory—does give us hope, even here and now.  We live life in this world, live in the dark shadow of death, with hope and even with joy, because we know that that shadow is only the darkness which comes before the dawn. Death is still real; it is still terrible, but it is not the end. And for that reason, we have hope.

But this hope is not something dreamy or idle. Merely knowing the possibility of a future life does bring us hope, but on its own, it might lead merely to speculation and fantasizing. But we have a more definite and bracing hope; we have hope because there is a reward for labor.

Much of 1 Corinthians 15 is complex and philosophical; Paul deals with ideas that are very different from anything we know in common life, concepts that are very hard to understand or explain. And yet he ends, as he so often does, with a piece of practical advice; Paul moves from the new heavens and new earth back to this old earth without missing a beat. After the soaring grandeur of this chapter, he comes back in the end to this down-to-earth exhortation in verse 58: “Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye stedfast, unmoveable, always abounding in the work of the Lord.”

The words are straightforward enough. It is a command to remain loyal and faithful to the cause of Christ and to give ourselves to the work which he has given us. You can find words to this general effect all over the New Testament. But they have a special importance here because of what comes before. Notice that Paul begins this exhortation with the word 'THEREFORE.' That's a connecting word; connecting this verse to the verses that come before and ultimately to the entire chapter.

We are to be steadfast, unmoveable, always abounding in the work in the Lord because of the doctrine of the resurrection as outlined in the chapter. But why? What connection is there between this resurrection, which, after all, isn't going to happen until some time in the future, and our current life as Christians? Paul explains that connection in the last part of the verse: “Forasmuch as ye know that your labour is not in vain in the Lord.”

Futility saps the life from effort. The feeling that what we are doing doesn't matter, that it won't have an effect—it is one of the largest obstacles that lies in the way of accomplishing something, especially something that requires patience and endurance. You can start a project for many reasons, but if you are going to see it through to the end, you will almost certainly need the hope that it will be completed; that it will matter; that something will come of it. That sort of hope is one of the few things that can produce a steadfast and unmoveable attitude.

But the problem is that, if you consider this world on its own terms, then futility is woven into the very fabric of our lives. We can never be sure that anything we do will really matter; that anything we start will ever be finished. It doesn't matter if you are living egotistically or altruistically; the point still holds. Suppose you are growing a garden; it doesn't matter if you are going to eat all the crops yourself or if you're going to share the food with people in need—the fact remains that you may not get a harvest. You may not even live long enough to see the harvest if there is one. 

This world is a world of change and decay and the inevitable shadow of death. Nothing stands forever. Everything we do will be lost and forgotten eventually. Most of it will be lost and forgotten within a year. This is a world in which moth and rust corrupt and where thieves break through and steal. This is not a world where anything endures forever.

And for that reason, many people in the world go through life with a sense of hopelessness and futility; and this is one of the reasons why so many people choose to end their own life or to live a life of careless self-indulgence. Because if we are all going to die, and if the world itself is going to come to an end, then how, then why would we try to live steadfast and unmoveable; why work when you cannot be sure your work will matter to anyone?

That is why the doctrine of the resurrection matters so much--because it means that our labor is not in vain in the Lord.  We have to understand this about 1 Corinthians 15. Many people and many religions believe in an afterlife, believe that life goes on after death in some form or another. But that isn't what Paul is teaching here. This doctrine is of a resurrection, a new creation. It is an act of God that brings about something new.

And I want to emphasize that here for this reason—the resurrection, life-after-death—isn't something that just happens. It isn't a sort of accidental byproduct of life. It is something God does, something with a plan and a purpose. Life, death, and the thing which lies beyond them both all come from the hand of God and are solely under His direction. That is why our life on this earth, our life here-and-now, has meaning and purpose, even though we know that it will come to an end. Because it is something given to us by God, just as our life in the resurrection will be given by God.

Do you see why that matters? If our purpose lay in this world, then it would end with death. But if our purpose is in God, then it will endure as long as God endures. Our labor is not in vain in the Lord, because the Lord is the same yesterday, today, and forever. If we are building on the sands of time, then our house will fall as those sands run out. But if we are building on the rock of ages, then it will stand even all else falls.

Because of the resurrection, we have hope—that there is a reward, a meaning, and a purpose in our labor. We may die; everything we did in life may turn to dust and be forgotten. In two hundred years, there may not be a man on earth who remembers that we lived or what we did. But God, the only one whose valuation really matters, will remember. And those who are faithful to Him will find their reward. That is the hope we have.

It is something great, but also something daunting.  This hope is not for everyone; it is for those who remain faithful to Christ. We often become discouraged by the shortness of life—when it seems that nothing we do really matters. But sometimes we become discouraged by the length of life—it seems that we can't possible stand true until the end. That is why we also need to note in this passage that we have hope because there is strength for the journey.

Verse 57 sounds a triumphant note; you might call it the key verse of the chapter; you might even call it the key verse of the New Testament. “Thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” We can have victory, a victory which comes from God because of and by the means of the atonement provided by the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. That is the triumphal call of the gospel. It is the call of victory.

The main idea here is that, because of God, we have a victory over death. Death and the grave can have no victory over us because, through Christ, we have victory over them. Death will not come out on top of this war; Jesus will always be the last man standing, and we can stand with him. We have victory—but we need to note how that victory comes. We can picture this like a battle or a fight, with death being the antagonist trying to defeat us. And here is the point I want you to notice—Death did not fight us unarmed. He had a weapon that made him powerful, that made him terrible. That is verse 56: “The sting of death is sin.” 

Sin brings death; it is the sure-fire, fatal weapon in the hands of the enemy. It is not merely because sin first introduced death into this world. It is because sin is what makes death truly terrible; that makes death what it is. Death means separation from life, it means separation from God and everything God has made; it is to be utterly cast out from all that is good. But death can only have this effect because of sin.

Imagine two men, both being arrested on the charge of murder. But one of the men knows that he did commit the crime and that there is solid evidence against him. The other man knows that he is innocent and that he has a rock-solid alibi. Both men may be put into the same police car. The cold steel of handcuffs will feel the same on both of their wrists. Both may feel fear or anger at the fact of being arrested. But it is clear that the event is different for each of them—one knows that he will be acquitted in a short time he will be free and walking the streets again; the other knows that he will be condemned and punished severely. For the innocent man, arrest is a temporary problem; for the guilty one, it a final and irrevocable catastrophe. Both the Christian and the sinner die; the physical experience of death may be the same for both of them; both may experience pain and fear. But for the Christian, death is a temporary problem; only the sinner truly dies. Sin is the sting of death, and Christ has victory over death because He has victory over sin.

Do you see why that matters? The hope of the resurrection is not for everyone; it is only for those who remain steadfast and unmoveable; your labor is not in vain if and only if it is in the Lord. We can have hope of victory in death only if we have hope of victory in life. But the victory in life—the victory over sin, the ability to stand strong in the midst of doubt and difficulty—is provided by the same power as the victory over death. We can have hope of living for God before death for the same reason that we have hope of living with God after death—because God giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. 

God is not our enemy from whom we must attempt to wrest the prize of victory. He is not an umpire watching impassively to decide who deserves the reward at the end of the match. God is fighting on our side; the only hope of victory we have is the victory which God has obtained for us. That is our hope here and hereafter.

God has opened the harbor of our home port, but He is also sailing with us on our voyage. Death is a dark and tragic reality for both the sinner and the Christian. Life is a difficult and painful reality for both the sinner and the Christian. But the Christian has hope and victory both in life and death because of God. That is the hope of the resurrection. And all of that is only possible for one reason—the center and source of our hope is solely in Jesus.

As I said before, many religions have believed in some sort of life after death. There are some abstract philosophical arguments to be made for the survival of the soul. But that isn't what Paul is describing. Survival, even immortality, isn't what interested the apostle. The chapter begins with Paul repeating the gospel which he preached—the gospel that Christ died and rose again. He ends it with the declaration that our labor is not in vain in the Lord. Christ is the beginning and the end; the source of our life and our hope in death. The victory exists only by and through our Lord Jesus Christ.

The hope of the resurrection isn't something automatic or impersonal. Our hope isn't in an event or state of being or a mode of existence; our hope is not in resurrection but in He who is the resurrection and the life. Jesus is our guarantee of the resurrection—we can be sure that there is hope beyond the dark door of death because our great Captain has already entered there and returned. Jesus is our guide to the resurrection—we can make this journey successfully because He is traveling with us.

And Jesus will be our joy in the resurrection. Many people have wondered whether immortality is even desirable—wouldn't it become dull and uninteresting to live forever? And so it would be, if we were spending eternity with anyone else. It can be worthwhile to live forever only if we live with Him at whose right hand are pleasures forevermore. The Westminster Catechism says that the chief purpose of man is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever—and only God truly could be enjoyed forever. An impersonal resurrection; an impersonal Heaven full of empty golden halls—that would never satisfy the human soul. Our hope is to be with the One who made us to live with him. 

And that is why, even here on this earth, we have a taste of heaven; we can know something of the resurrection long before death, because we know the One who is the power and the joy of the resurrection. As one song put it, “On earth or sea, what matters where?/Where Jesus is, 'tis Heaven there.”

Dan Fair once said: “Christians look farther.” Many people in this world live only for the moment. Sometimes this is a conscious choice; more often it is a habit born out of the business of life. And it is right in a sense—it is in the moment that our duty lies. A driver must keep his eyes on the road, but it is good to stop sometimes and look at his map to see his destination. And as we drive down the road of life, it is good to stop sometimes and remember our hope.

Because, as Christians, we do have a hope. We have a hope, not just for tomorrow, not just for our future—we have a hope that goes beyond the world; a hope that cannot be destroyed, though the earth itself be destroyed. Our hope is secure even when the mountains are cast into the sea.

We hope because there is an end to death. As dark as the cloud of death lies over our lives, we know that the darkness will break at last. Death is a cold, hard word—but it is not the last word, and we know there is something beyond it. We have hope because there is a reward for labor. Our work in this world, as futile and empty as it may seem, does have a purpose; it does have a reward. We have hope because there is strength for the journey; as far away as our hope may seem, we know that we can reach it by God's grace. We are not traveling in our own strength. All of which is to say that we have hope because there is a Savior. The foundation of our hope is Jesus Christ; it is only through Him that we can have hope at all; He is the life out of death, He is the judge and the rewarder, and He is the one who allows us to make our goal successfully. And that is why our hope is a sure hope, because it is founded on the ever-living one; Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today, and forever.

C. S. Lewis wrote an article speculating about the glories of the resurrection and ends with these words: “Meanwhile the cross comes before the crown and tomorrow is a Monday morning. A cleft has opened in the pitiless walls of the world, and we are invited to follow our great Captain inside. The following Him is, of course, the essential point.”