2 Corinthians 5:1-10 · Our Heavenly Dwelling
Eyes on the Prize
2 Corinthians 4:13-5:1
Sermon
by Gibson “Nibs” Stroupe
Loading...

"I believed, and I spoke." Paul begins this passage with a reference to the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Old Testament. It is from Psalm 116:10 in which the psalmist thanks God for saving him even in, and especially in, the midst of his conflicts and struggles: "I kept my faith, even when I said: 'I am greatly afflicted.' "

Paul knows the feeling! He has had many struggles in his journey to proclaim the gospel of Jesus Christ, and the church at Corinth is one of the main sources of those struggles. He uses these struggles as an entry point into one of the chief points of his proclamation. In the midst of these struggles, which reflect "carrying the death of Jesus in the body," Paul also counts on the resurrection of Jesus Christ to give him hope. After all, it was the resurrection that fired that first group of men and women disciples. After the crucifixion of Jesus, they had been filled with fear and despair, and they were in hiding. The resurrection changed everything about the point of view of that first generation of disciples. It fired their bodies and their spirits and their imaginations to see a whole new way of life. It was only later that the church went back to reflect upon the meaning of the cross and on the death of Jesus. It was the resurrection that brought them out of despair.

In his own struggles, Paul returns to the dynamic concept of the resurrection as a source of hope for himself and for the Corinthians. He knows the power of God in the resurrection, as seen in his own experience on the road to Damascus and in his missionary journeys. He emphasizes here that the power of the resurrection is available for him and for the Corinthians: "the one who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus." Based on this hope, Paul tells the Corinthians that "everything is for your sake," a phrase that he uses frequently in this letter (2 Corinthians 1:26-2:10; 5:13; 8:23). All that Paul does in relation to Corinth is so that they will know the grace, the new life, and the eternal life found in Jesus Christ.

These efforts are not just for the Corinthians, but that they, too, may share with others, thus continually widening the circle of believers. The point of such sharing and such growth is not as much an increase in numbers as it is an increase in praise, in thanksgiving to God. This is what God wants. As Paul indicated earlier in chapter 1 of this letter, what God wants from us is gratitude, our "Yes" in response to God's "Yes" to us in Jesus Christ. Jesus emphasized again and again that what God wants from us is not our perfection but rather our passion. The goal is not goodness - that's not possible for us, anyway. The goal is rather thanksgiving and praise, an "attitude of gratitude," so to speak. Gratitude cannot be commanded - it only comes in response to our perceiving that we have received a gift. We can tell ourselves that we ought to feel grateful, but we can't immediately will it. Of course, we can begin the practice and discipline of developing an attitude of gratitude, but it will take a while, especially in our culture where we place so much importance on independence and self-sufficiency.

Paul then reminds the Corinthians why the resurrection (and gratitude in response to it) is so important. We live in a difficult, dangerous world - a world that often makes us lose heart. By carrying the death of Jesus in our bodies, Paul acknowledges his (and our) mortality. It is scary and threatening, and it causes us great anxiety because it threatens our existence with meaninglessness. Paul's conflict with the Corinthians has reminded him of that abyss. Is it worth it? Is any of this worth the effort? Is there really someone out there and in here? There is great temptation to lose heart; yet Paul recognizes that in the very consideration of this question, in these very struggles, that he is being deepened and renewed. He repeats the phrase with which he began chapter 4: "We do not lose heart."

He takes this opportunity to remind the Corinthians of the realities of their lives, and indeed of all of our lives. He moves into a series of contrasts: "inner and outer natures," "temporary and eternal," "seen and unseen." He speaks first of the connection, but also the contrast, between the outer nature and the inner nature, a distinction that was common in the intellectual discourse of Paul's day. He uses this image in Romans and in Ephesians, and in using it, he emphasizes the truth from which all of us seek to flee at one time or another. That truth is that all of us are in decay. Paul is not demonstrating a fascination with the morbid side of life - rather he is simply being realistic about our status.

It is a truth - this decay - from which our culture is also in flight. We spend millions, if not billions, on research to discover products that will delay the effects of aging and decay, but nothing will stop the process. We may slow it down so that living to be over 100 may become routine, but we will not stop it. We remain mortal creatures, as Isaiah 40 puts it: "All flesh is grass." It is a difficult truth to accept, but we must come to terms with our own death if we are to find our lives. That is what Paul is noting here, using insight from Psalm 90: "Teach us to count our days so that we may be given a wise heart" (v. 12).

One answer to our lives and to our deaths is that life is meaningless. Paul undoubtedly has considered this option in his wrestling with the Corinthians. Paul has been here before, though, and he knows that the answer is not the meaninglessness of life, that our lives have no meaning. He now shares his own answer with the Corinthians and with us. Our lives have meaning and purpose in God, as the psalmist and Isaiah affirm so eloquently in their responses to their own nihilistic questions. Paul affirms that the meaning and the purpose of our lives have been deepened in the revelation of God in Jesus Christ. In this revelation we have the opportunity to see that the meaning of our own existence is not confined to the decay of our bodies and the fallenness of our histories. We discover that we have a home in God, a home not made by human hands, a home that tells us our lives and our selves belong to God, even in the midst of the decay of the bodily parts of ourselves, the "outer nature" of ourselves.

Paul calls this homeland our "inner nature," and we use various terms for it in our age: "soul," "spirit," "consciousness," "personal identity." It is rooted in, and it grows out of, our longing for home. Whatever term we choose to call it in the twenty-first century, it connects back to Paul's first-century insight that we are more than the sum of our body parts or our accumulated personal history. To say that we are "more than" is not to demean the present or our earthly lives. Rather it is meant to enhance the present, to enrich our lives by helping us to become aware that there are deeper and more powerful meanings in the routines and stories of our lives and of course in the lives of others.

In using this contrast between inner and outer natures, Paul is not being dualistic. Rather he is emphasizing different levels of experience and meaning, levels that are distinct and yet connected in ways that we cannot currently imagine. One of the reasons that we have difficulty imagining this "inner nature" and its connection to our "outer nature" is that our imaginations have shrunk. For several centuries now, we have allowed ourselves to become captives of a materialistic, scientific, and modern age that denies the efficacy or even the existence of the realm of the spiritual dimension. The idea of an "inner nature" or the spiritual dimension seems fanciful at the most and dangerous at the least. Paul asks us to reconsider our cultural captivity, to consider that life - and our lives - are much deeper than our materialistic age has led us to believe. To say this is not to attack science - it is to recognize the many gifts of science to human life while acknowledging that science, too, has its limits. Fortunately, that captivity is beginning to break down in our post-modern age.1 Yet, it is still difficult to imagine a realm of the spirit that is intertwined with and that even enlivens the material dimension. It is, however, the reality of which Paul is speaking here, a reality that we need to recover.

Paul wants to drive this point home to the Corinthians, so he uses two other metaphors: "temporary and eternal" and "seen and unseen." He wants to emphasize as strongly as possible that the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ point us to a reality that is deeper and richer than human history would suggest, a reality that permeates our existence. He states in verse 18 that he focuses on the "unseen," on the spiritual realm. To borrow a term from the Civil Rights Movement and Negro spirituals, Paul keeps his eyes on the prize.2 It is his focus on this dimension of reality, the dimension of God's love and grace, that gives him energy and vision to engage the contentious church at Corinth.

To close out this lectionary passage, we dip our toes into the edges of the next chapter by touching chapter 5, verse 1: "For we know that if the earthly tent is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." Again, Paul stresses the contrast between the world of materialism and a deeper, spiritual world. If our earthly tent is destroyed, if our historical identity is lost to death on earth, we will still have a home in an eternal house, not built by human hands. Paul is emphasizing here that in Jesus Christ, the eternal has broken into the temporal, but he is also emphasizing the idea that our identities - our spirits - will survive our historical death. In other letters, Paul seems to imply that the risen Jesus will return before his own historical death, so it is not exactly clear here whether Paul means an event soon to come in his own life or an event in the distant future after his death.

Perhaps a more important question for us is the meaning of Paul's words in our time. What does this mean more than 2,000 years later? Jesus Christ still has not returned in his full glory, and despite the popularity of the Left Behind series, the timing of such an occurrence remains unknown to us. Life after death and the second coming are powerful ideas, and given our limited imaginations, they remain metaphors for us to use in talking about the forces in our lives. After 2,000 years, however, I believe that Paul would urge us to keep our eyes focused on those two prizes but that he would also add one more focus: We not only believe in life after death, but we also believe in life before death. Paul would urge us to ground ourselves in the "here and now," rooted here because the "unseen" world sustains us. Too many of us in the church tend to focus only on life after death, but I believe that Paul urges disciples in all ages to focus also on life before death, that being raised up with Jesus and dwelling in an eternal home means not only a promise of life after death but also the possibility of life before death.

I remember the ride well. Caroline and I were driving up to Chattanooga from Atlanta to visit her parents in the spring of 1975. We had just accepted a call to be co-pastors of St. Columba Presbyterian Church in Norfolk, Virginia, and in so doing would be the first clergy couple to serve a local church in the former PCUS. Caroline is the senior pastor in our family, having been ordained in 1973, and on that trip to Chattanooga, I was preparing for my examination for ordination as a pastor by Norfolk Presbytery.

Since Caroline has been my primary theologian for over thirty years, I felt hopeful when I asked her on that trip about a doctrine that was giving me trouble: "What do you think that the meaning of the resurrection is? I'm having trouble figuring that one out." At that point, I wasn't sure that I believed in life after death, and if I didn't accept that, what could I say about the resurrection during my examination? Caroline answered: "I don't know what it means for life after death. I'll leave that up to God. But, I see the resurrection as a way of understanding our lives now. It has more to do with our lives now than our deaths. In the resurrection of Jesus, God is calling us into new life now, in this life." It was an answer that changed the way I looked at the resurrection and at the Bible itself. I came to see that the purpose of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ is not so much to get us into heaven - as I had come to believe - but rather to enable us to live in the presence of God now. Just as God rolled away the stone from the tomb of Jesus on that Easter morning, so God continues to roll away the stone from the tomb of our hearts so that we may be released from the power of death.

It is what happened to those first disciples on that first Easter morning. The women who came to the tomb (yes, it is the women, despite Paul's omitting them from the list of witnesses in 1 Corinthians 15) were captured by the power of death. In John's account, Mary Magdalene cannot recognize the risen Jesus even though he is standing right in front of her, talking to her. She thinks that he is the caretaker of the cemetery. Why can't she recognize the risen Jesus? Because her heart, her imagination, and her sensory apparatus have been taken over by the power of death. She recognizes him when he calls her name: "Mary." The thundering power of God that called the dead Jesus out of the tomb has now called Mary Magdalene out of her tomb also - out from the power of death. And she has eyes to see and ears to hear and a heart to receive. She runs to tell the others: "I have seen the Lord!"

As we reflect on the meaning of Paul's words in this passage in 2 Corinthians, this would be a good place to start - with Mary Magdalene's captivity to death that makes her unable to recognize the risen Jesus standing right in front of her. Why are our hearts and our imaginations captured by death? When have we come to believe that weapons bring security, that war brings peace? When have we come to believe that violence is redemptive, that money brings life, that racial classification is a necessary evil? The doctrine of the resurrection is a promise that tells us that death does not rule, not only when we die, but even more importantly when we live. The risen Jesus is out in front of us, too, calling us to come out of the tombs of death so that we can experience that power of new life that fired Mary and even those reluctant men who had initially thought that she was hysterical. May we, too, hear our names called. May we, too, know that we have been raised with Jesus. Amen.


1. If you are one of those captives (and who isn't?), I would suggest reading Huston Smith's book, Why Religion Matters (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 2001).

2. For more information, see Juan Williams, Eyes on the Prize (New York: Viking Penguin Books, 1987).

CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Sermons for Sundays after Pentecost (First Third): Eyes on The Prize, by Gibson “Nibs” Stroupe