TRADING THE PERISHABLE FOR THE IMPERISHABLE
When the Lord proclaimed “I am making everything new” one of the most essential things to be made new is our body. The longer I live, the more eager I am to trade in these faltering physiques of ours for a transformed, immortal version that will never experience pain or tears or death.
In 1 Corinthians 15, Paul is emphatic: “Flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable” (verse 50). My first job was working as a stock boy at the local A & P supermarket. When I saw the word “PERISHABLE” printed on a box, I understood that whatever was inside – whether milk or eggs or cottage cheese – was something that wouldn’t last, and needed special attention, or it would quickly go bad.
That is an apt description of our present physical body: it inevitably, eventually declines during our lifetime (Ecclesiastes 12), and decays after our death. As God told our original ancestor, “Dust you are, and to dust you will return” (Genesis 3:19). If our bodies can give us so much trouble in this earthly existence, how can we ever expect to enjoy an eternity with our Lord?
The answer: When He makes everything new, the Lord provides us with a new, spiritual body! “The trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality” (1 Corinthians 15:52-53). In the words of the poet Longfellow:
“Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.”
God’s gift of a spiritual body explains how we can look forward to a resurrection, in spite of the decay of our physical bodies in the grave. This perspective also informs a question that is increasingly being asked: “What provisions should I make for my physical body after I die?” And more specifically, “Should I be buried, or should I consider cremation?” Since, as we have seen, these physical bodies of ours cannot be taken into eternity, that is a personal decision that depends on how we would answer the following questions.
- What does the symbolism of a burial versus a cremation mean to me?
For some people the act of committing their physical body to the grave is a testimony to their belief that death is a temporary state. Burial has historically been the mainstream Christian practice, influenced by the frequent references by Jesus (John 11:11, Luke 8:52) and the apostle Paul (1 Thessalonians 4:13-15) to death as a temporary “sleep.” The ancient Greeks called their burial place a “necropolis,” which means “the city of the dead.” Ever since the resurrection of Jesus, however, Christians have used the word “cemetery” – which means a “sleeping place.”
In addition, when my father was working with the local “Meals On Wheels” program, which delivers food to shut-ins, he discovered that the symbolism of cremation can have negative connotations. He enjoyed visiting with the recipients, but one irascible old coot was an unapologetic backslider. One day the conversation somehow got around to burial versus cremation. The elderly man was adamant that he didn’t want to be cremated. When my dad asked him why, the old reprobate said, “Because I only want to be burned once.”
On the other hand, for others, cremation symbolizes the perishable nature of our physical bodies, and the reality of the new, spiritual body promised to us. It certainly gives the minister who conducts the funeral service an opportunity to explain God has something greater in store for us than our present physical bodies.
- Which would be more likely to give my loved ones the chance to experience closure in their grief: a traditional burial, or cremation?
Some people feel strongly that they want to be buried so their loved ones can have the opportunity to say their “goodbyes” while in the presence of their physical body. Others have just as strongly expressed their discomfort at the thought that the last image their family will have of them is stretched out in a casket, saying, “I want them to remember me as I was in life. After all, the body in the coffin is not who I was, and certainly not who I will be.”
Likewise, some find comfort in having a grave to visit, with a permanent headstone to testify to the life that was lived, while others would prefer that their loved one is not identified with any one physical location, preferring to picture them as being present in spirit wherever their family member may be.
- Is the cost differential between a traditional burial versus cremation a factor for me or my family? Add up the cost of a grave site; the charge for opening and closing the grave; the expense of embalming and other funeral home services; and the purchase of a casket, vault, and tombstone, and a family can easily spend tens of thousands of dollars. This is not an insignificant consideration. Moreover, if someone dies out of state, there is the additional expense of transporting the body.
- Does cremation make it more convenient for my family to schedule a memorial service? With a traditional burial, the service must usually be held within a few days of the individual’s passing. When a person is cremated, the family has the flexibility to postpone the memorial service to a more convenient time. I discovered just how far that flexibility can be stretched in a most unexpected way.
Raymond & Pat were retired members of my congregation, and I enjoyed visiting in their home. He had an infectious sense of humor and always wore a big grin. Raymond would invariably hold court in his den, seated in front of the television in his brown recliner, the remote control in his left hand and an over-sized mug of steaming coffee in his right. From this “throne” he would regale one and all with funny stories from his stint in the army during World War II.
The time came when Raymond passed away. When I visited his wife to make the arrangements for his funeral service, Pat was inexplicably vague. “Wait until you hear from me,” she said. “I’ll get back to you.” I thought it strange, but honored her request. Five weeks later, on a Saturday morning, I was in my yard raking leaves when my wife told me, “Pat just called, and she needs you to come right now.” “What’s the emergency?” I asked. “She wouldn’t say,” Gina answered.
When I arrived, still in my faded jeans & flannel shirt, Pat ushered me into the dining room, where her family was eating a bar-b-Que lunch. After introducing me to everyone, Pat said “Come with me.” I noticed that the crowd got up from the table and, taking their plates with them, silently followed me into the den. This curious crowd stood behind me, solemnly munching their meal and waiting to see what I was there for.
Once inside the den, Pat gestured toward the brown recliner. Perched on the top of the headrest was Raymond’s VFW baseball cap. On the right arm of the chair was his oversized mug, filled with steaming coffee. On the left arm was his television remote control. And there in the middle of the seat was a black box, about 10 inches square. “There he is, preacher,” said Pat, “do your thing.”
It took me a couple of beats to realize the black box contained Raymond’s cremains, and that I was expected to conduct an impromptu funeral service. In the awkwardness of the moment, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “Well, don’t he look natural.” Fortunately, my comment cracked up the crowd, dissolving the tension in the room and giving me the opening to share a eulogy in the spirit of cheerful celebration that Raymond would have appreciated.
Dan Williams