The implications of Jesus’s resurrection for the physical world didn’t begin to sink in for me until one afternoon at the park. Ironically, I was there sharing the gospel with strangers. I wanted to share the good news that you too could go to heaven when you die. Accompanied by a brother who had been a Christian longer than me, I’ll never forget the question one man asked us: “What happens to my body after death?”
Thinking as I did at the time I wanted to say, “It doesn’t matter because your spirit will be with Jesus!” Just as I was about to stick my foot in my mouth, my friend jumped in: “The Bible teaches that God is going to resurrect the bodies of every person who has ever lived. Some will be raised and judged for rejecting the gospel; others will be raised in glory.” I nodded in agreement so as not to expose my ignorance! I had always assumed that the body was a sort of vestigial organ when it came to spirituality, something there, but unnecessary. I had missed the part of the gospel that promised the redemption of our bodies.
Christianity teaches that our bodies are the objects of God’s redemptive love. Jesus’s physical resurrection proclaims (among many other things) that God is for the body, and therefore our bodies must be for God. John Kleinig, a lecturer in theology and ordained minister writes, “Christian spirituality is embodied piety. We human beings are not just spirits, like the angels, nor animated bodies, like the animals, but are embodied spirits, or, if you will, spiritual bodies. We do not just have bodies; we are bodies.”
Since God created our bodies, they belong to him, but in a special way the bodies of believers have been purchased by Jesus. Paul said, “Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body” (1 Corinthians 6:19–20). Your body as a temple for the Holy Spirit is an instrument of praise and prayer. Prayer on earth isn’t a disembodied spiritual exercise, but an offering up of the whole person to God (Romans 6:13; 12:1).
Why then do our bodies sometimes feel like more of a hindrance to prayer than a help? As soon as you say, “Dear Lord” the rest of your mind draws a blank. You’ve closed your eyes to pray, but your body thinks it’s time for sleep. We’re not alone in this struggle. Jesus’s drowsy disciples had to be reminded that while the spirit was willing, the flesh was often weak (Matthew 26:41).
When our kids were younger, they used to blame their bodies when they didn’t want to do something. We’d ask our son to clean up his toys and he’d respond by saying something like, “But my legs aren’t working right now!” Or we’d tell our daughter to finish her dinner and she’d say, “My stomach says it doesn’t want any more!” If you’re a parent, maybe you’ve had this conversation too. Of course, my son’s legs and daughter’s stomach were working just fine; instead, it was a heart malfunction. They needed to bring their bodies into alignment with their hearts for the task at hand. We need to do the same thing when we pray.
Excerpted from Praying with Jesus: Getting to the Heart of the Lord’s Prayer © 2024 by Adriel Sanchez. Used with permission of New Growth Press. May not be reproduced without prior written permission.
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Footnotes
John W. Kleinig, Wonderfully Made: A Protestant Theology of the Body (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2021), 10.
