Have no fears then. Now that the common Savior of all has died on our behalf, we who believe in Christ no longer die as men died in time past, in fulfillment of the threat of the law. That condemnation has come to an end; and now that, by the grace of the resurrection, corruption has been banished and done away, we are loosed from our mortal bodies in God's good time for each, so that we may obtain thereby a better resurrection. Like seeds cast into the earth, we do not perish in our dissolution, but like them shall rise again, death having been brought to nothing by the grace of the Savior. That is why blessed Paul, through whom we all have surety of the resurrection, says: "This corruptible must put on incorruption and this mortal must put on immortality; but when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, 'Death is swallowed up in victory. O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, where is thy victory?'"(Athanasius, On the Incarnation, 21; language slightly updated)
No Kivengere quotes this year, nor yet the usual Petra video of He Came, He Saw, He Conquered, which should be required listening for anyone. (Since I only post once a year anymore, it seems, just scroll down.)
Rather: a reminder that in the tomb, God is still sovereign. Though dead, he works death backwards, and he unmakes death. If in death, how much more in life?
In A Brief History of Thought, Luc Ferry rightly describes death as anything in our lives that is irreversible, whether it be the biological termination of our lives or the holiday at the sea we can visit only in memory. But the gospel gainsays death entirely, and it proves it by the historical bodily resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth from the grave.
Athanasius reminds us elsewhere that the resurrection secures eternal life for all—we are all immortal. But this is a sobering thought, for hell as well as heaven is full of immortals. As C. S. Lewis once wrote:
There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations—these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit—immortal horrors or everlasting splendors. This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously - no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption.It is a solemn day, but a day of joyful expectation. Can you imagine it? To arrive at the empty tomb?
