Raised in Glory (Part 2): The Triumph of Resurrection
What if the best was not behind you, but ahead? Not in your youth, not even in your prime, but beyond death—waiting in resurrection?
Paul ends 1 Corinthians 15 not with vague comfort or poetic closure, but with blazing confidence. Not only is resurrection certain—because Christ has been raised—but the resurrection body we await will be more glorious than we dare imagine.
It begins with a question: “But someone will ask, ‘How are the dead raised? With what kind of body will they come?’” (v. 35)
Fair enough. What comes after death often feels more mystery than fact. But Paul won’t allow vague spiritualism or misty metaphors. He points to nature: a seed must die to become something more. The plant that rises is not identical to what went into the ground, but it is truly, organically connected. In the same way, our resurrection bodies will be us—but glorified.
Paul doesn’t just offer analogy—he declares reality. The body sown perishable will be raised imperishable. What is sown in dishonour will be raised in glory. Weakness will give way to power. And our natural, mortal bodies will be raised spiritual—not meaning ghostly, but Spirit-powered, supernatural. This is no ethereal floating existence. It is resurrection life with substance, vigour, glory.
And just as we once bore the image of Adam—earthly, limited, dying—we will one day bear the image of Christ, the man from heaven. That’s the promise: you will be like Him.
But there’s a necessary transformation. “Flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God” (v. 50). What we are now cannot handle the weight of eternity. So whether by resurrection or transformation at Christ’s return, we will be changed—suddenly, completely, irrevocably. In the twinkling of an eye, the mortal will put on immortality.
And in that moment, death is dealt its deathly blow.
“Death has been swallowed up in victory.” Paul doesn’t just proclaim this—he sings it. Like a champion lifting the trophy over a long-defeated rival, he mocks the grave: “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?”
Death still stings now, doesn’t it? It still feels cruel and unnatural and wrong. And it is. But its power, its ultimate threat, has been broken. Sin gave it its sting, and the law gave it its judgment. But Jesus bore both. So now, because of Him, death is defanged. It may still bite, but it cannot win.
“Thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (v. 57).
So what do we do with all this?
We don’t wait for heaven with hands folded. We don’t treat this life as meaningless. Paul finishes with fire: “Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know your labour in the Lord is not in vain” (v. 58).
Nothing done in Jesus’ name is wasted. Every quiet act of love, every weary word of witness, every unnoticed sacrifice—it all matters. It all lasts. It is not in vain. Why? Because resurrection is real.
So — stand firm. Christ is risen. And in Him, so will you be.