Resurrection somehow

Philippians 3:11

In a haunting and beautiful rendition of his song I’ll see you in my dreams at the recent 9/11 20th anniversary commemoration, Bruce Springsteen makes the powerful statement, on a most sombre day, that “Death is not the end”. However, the basis for the comfort of such a claim is held in (a perhaps deliberate) tension. The one whose “heart’s been emptied it seems” and whose “soul feels like it's been split at the seams” knows that there will be dreams in which their lost loved one will inevitably feature:

I'll see you in my dreams when all our summers have come to an end
I'll see you in my dreams, we'll meet and live and laugh again
I'll see you in my dreams, up around the river bend…

The tension is whether it is only in such dreams that death is not the end. That the grave is a final and unyielding terminus but the bereaved may nevertheless be gifted with at least a little consolation as they sleep?

The ambiguity remains unresolved as the song closes.

There is something of a similar ambiguity - an uncertain certainty - in the words of the apostle Paul in his letter to the Philippians. He longs to know more of the Lord Jesus Christ and “the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death”. He is crystal clear in all his writings about the realities that coalesce around the Saviour and his triumph over sin and death. But he then adds, in a voice that is suddenly and surprisingly tentative, “and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead.”

Somehow. Is that the first inkling of the unravelling of his hope? That there is a possibility, however indistinct, that he may not actually share in the finality of the power of Christ’s resurrection? That, like Moses, he might only see the promised land from afar and not actually enter it? Some might see that as admirable caution and humility but its impact on the faith of others would be drastic. Which would never seem to be Paul’s intention - in all the agonies of ministry he gives everything he has to build others up in the security of faith in Jesus.

So what might he be saying here?

Not once in all his writings does he vacillate on the certainty of resurrection - in the experience of our Lord and, therefore, in that of his people. The principle is as firmly-tied to the person and work of the Saviour as it is possible to be, but the process, the actualising of resurrection for the believer, remains shrouded in a mystery that Paul is content to live with. It seems that he feels under no compulsion to make an attempt to tie-up every loose end, content instead to leave those details in the nail-pierced hands of the Lord who will return in glory.

The ‘somehow’ he speaks of bears witness to the devastating reality of death, the separation of body and soul, the returning to the dust from which we were made. Resurrection is not the easy reversal of a minor ailment. There is far more destructive and de-creative power in death than we have ever seen or known. It is, indeed, the final enemy that splits souls apart at the seams. But it has been overcome by the one who was “declared to be the Son of God with power by his resurrection from the dead” and it will be overcome in the ultimate destiny of all whose faith is in him.

In making Paul’s words our own we aren’t equivocating on the fundamental hope of the gospel; we are simply acceding to our own limitations and confessing our finite knowledge. But this we know: because of Jesus, death is not the end and our dreams will one day be seen to have been too tame, too timid, as they pale in the light of the glory that shines from the face of our blessed resurrected Lord.

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When this passing world is done,
When has sunk yon radiant sun,
When I stand with Christ on high
Looking o'er life's history,
Then, Lord, shall I fully know,
Not till then, how much I owe.

When I stand before the throne,
Dressed in beauty not my own,
When I see Thee as Thou art,
Love thee with unsinning heart,
Then, Lord, shall I fully know,
Not till then, how much I owe.

When the praise of heaven I hear,
Loud as thunders to the ear,
Loud as many waters' noise,
Sweet as harp's melodious voice,
Then, Lord, shall I fully know,
Not till then, how much I owe.

Chosen, not for good in me,
Wakened up from wrath to flee,
Hidden in the Saviour's side,
By the Spirit sanctified,
Teach me, Lord, on earth to show,
By my love how much I owe.

(Robert Murray M’Cheyne, 1813-43)