Thursday, July 20, 2017

GROANING FROM LONGING

There is a groaning that rises from a deep longing for something anticipated with great excitement like a child impatiently awaits Christmas morning or a groom longs for his wedding day. Paul writes, For even in this (house) we groan, longing to be dressed with our home from heaven (2 Cor. 5:2).

The verb translated "we groan" (στενάζομεν, see 5:4) is a present indicative indicating that the groaning is an ongoing, continuous groaning in present time. We sigh in this life because of our circumstances (R&R, Key, p.466), but do our sighs reflect a negative or positive outlook? Paul says that we groan in anticipation of something better not merely distress over our bad circumstances. Our groaning reflects a positive outlook for the future and is generated by the Holy Spirit at work in our lives according to Romans 8:23 where Paul uses the same word (Martin, 2 Corinthians, p.104). Groaning is the first fruits of the Spirit as we await the redemption of our body. Sighing for heaven is the sign of the Spirit in our hearts.

We groan because we long to be dressed in our home from heaven. The verb translated "longing" (ἐπιποθοῦντες) is a present participle indicating that we are continually longing to be clothed. We long for our heavenly clothing like newborn babies long for pure milk (1 Peter 2:2). Paul tells us that we will all be changed - transformed - at the resurrection as the perishable puts on the imperishable and the mortal puts on immortality (1 Cor. 15:51-53). The believer's longing is to put on the imperishable body that will last forever.

Paul uses the metaphor of a house (οἰκητήριον), but he changes the word from οἰκία to οἰκητήριον. The latter word implies a home more than a house (Hughes, 2 Corinthians, p.168, fn 29). A house (οἰκία) does not require an inhabitant to be a house. A home (οἰκητήριον) implies the presence of an inhabitant (οἱκητήρ). Paul's mixed metaphor enriches our understanding. We long for the day when we will be dressed in a home from heaven. We will inhabit our heavenly bodies as our eternal homes.

The verb translated "to be clothed or dressed" (ἐπενδύσασθαι) is a compound word combining the preposition ἐπί with the verb ἐνδύω. The meaning of the compound verb is to put on outer clothes over other clothes like an overcoat is put on over regular clothing.  Our heavenly body is put on over our earthly body in a way that absorbs and transforms our earthly body (Hughes, 2 Corinthians, p.168 fn31). Since we get our glorified bodies to wear at the resurrection when Christ returns and not when we die, we long to be alive until the return of Christ and experience the glorious transformation without death (1 Cor. 15:51-53). We do not fear death but long to avoid the disembodied state Paul calls "nakedness" in the next verse (2 Cor. 5:3). Death brings nakedness until God dresses us with our new bodies at the resurrection. It is far better to be alive when Christ returns because God puts on our new bodies like an overcoat covering and transforming our current bodies.

We sigh with longing for that day. I watched my dad in his last year of life groaning with a deep desire to be clothed with his heavenly home. He suffered physically, but he sighed not so much because of his physical suffering but because of his desire for heaven. His groaning rose from his longing. Earth holds little value when the longings of our heart transfuse our horizon with the glorious hues of heaven.

Wednesday, July 5, 2017

COLLAPSING OUR TENTS FOR OUR UPWARD CLIMB

I used to enjoy back packing in the mountains. We often slept in our tents. The next morning I would fold up the tent and tie it to the backpack. The rule of tent camping is to leave no trace behind as we move on to new heights. Death is like collapsing a tent. Paul writes For we know that, if our earthly house, the tent, is taken down, we have a building from God which is eternal (2 Corinthians 5:1).

The conditional clause (ἐὰν) is a third class condition called a "more probable future condition" (Dana & Mantey, Grammar, p.290). Death is a relatively uncertain future event since Christ could return before we die, but death is certainly more probable than not! Death always involves the loss of our earthly (ἐπίγειος) house (οἰκία). Paul uses the noun οἰκία instead of οἶκος which may imply an intentional distinction. The noun οἶκος was used to refer to the totality of a deceased person's possessions while the noun οἰκία referred to simply the person's residence (TDNT, 5:131). Our physical body is the residence of our soul.

My body is a house which is a tent. The noun for a tent (σκήνους) is a genitive of apposition to the noun for a house (οἰκία). The genitive of apposition is a second noun that describes the material that makes up the first noun, so the tent is the fabric that composes the house (MHT, Grammar, 3:214).

Paul, like a tent maker, knew tents. Tents were used as the cover of a wagon or a shelter on the deck of a ship along with homes used by nomadic people. They were always transitory structures in comparison to houses and even secular writers compared life in this world to a tent "passing by; one comes, sees and departs" as Democritus wrote (NIDNTT, 3:811). A Jewish reader may well have thought about The Feast of Tabernacles or Booths where families constructed tents made of branches to remember life in the wilderness before entering the promised land (R&R, Key, p.466).

Campers "strike" their tents every morning. The verb translated "torn down" (καλυθῇ) is a passive verb referring to the dismantling of a tent by someone other than the tenter so God "strikes" our tents in His time. It is a compound verb made up of κατά, meaning downward, and λύω, meaning to loosen. The sense of the verb is to take down the tent (TDNTT, 4:338). The body where our souls reside is taken down, folded up or dismantled so we can move on to a new life because our physical bodies are temporary and impermanent.

Death means collapsing the tents of our bodies for our upward climb in Christ. Our focus in death is to look forward to life not backward at life. We look ahead not behind like a backpacker eager for his next glorious mountain peak experience.