Physical Death

Romans 5:12 -- Death Spread To All Men

Paul's purpose in this passage is clearly to ground the statement about justification and its blessings in the obedience of Jesus Christ, which he has to contrast with the disobedience of Adam. It is a passage that is built on both comparison and contrast, analogy and antithesis. On the one hand, there is the complex of sin-condemnation-death, which is analogous to, and yet is the complete antithesis of the complex of righteousness-justification-life.

For Paul it is impossible to speak of either complex without reference to the solidarity in covenant which we have either with the first Adam or with the last. In covenant solidarity with the first Adam, our covenant head and our natural father, we experience death. Only in covenant solidarity with Jesus Christ can we experience life.

So here Paul is beginning a comparison ('therefore, just as sin came into the world...') which he does not finish, because he needs to clarify the last point of verse 12 with the information of verses 13 and 14. But the point he makes in 5:12 is an important one: the appearance and universality of physical death can be only be explained in terms of the sin of the one man and in terms of the sin of many. John Murray is right when he says that 'in the first half [of verse 12] the accent falls upon the entrance of sin and death through one man. In the second part the accent falls upon the universal penetration of death and the sin of all' (Comm, p182).

In other words, the point of entrance for death into the world is the one sin of the one man Adam, while the reason death permeates and penetrates to every corner of the human family is because of the sin of us all.

Death In the Fourfold State

Boston deals with the topic of death at the beginning of Section 4: 'The Eternal State; or, State of Consummate Happiness or Misery'. He takes as his text the words of Job 30:23 -- FOR I KNOW THAT YOU WILL BRING ME TO DEATH, AND TO THE HOUSE APPOINTED FOR ALL LIVING. It's a very emotive verse, a reminder to us of the great appointment that all of must keep with the last enemy. 'While we are in the body', says Boston, 'we are but in a lodging house, in an inn on our way homeward. When we come to our grave, we come to our home, our long home [Ecclesiastes 12:5]' (p222).

The doctrine of this text, according to Boston, is that 'all must die', and he asks us to consider five fundamental principles related to this fact.

First, he says, 'there is an unalterable statute of death under which men are concluded' (p223). That statute is expressed clearly in Hebrews 9:27, 'It is appointed for man to die once'. 2 Samuel 14:14 -- 'We must all die; we are like water spilled on the ground which cannot be gathered up again'. There is no 'perhaps' here, there is a 'must' here. Boston comments that even although there will be some who will not physically die -- that is, they will be alive when Jesus comes again -- nonetheless the Bible says that we will all be changed (1 Corinthians 15:51), and that change, Boston says, 'will be equivalent to death' (p223).

Second, says Boston, 'let us consult daily observation' -- let's open our eyes. How come there is room in the world for us all, asks Boston? Simply because those who were here before us have gone to make room for us, as we shall depart to make room for others. Listen to Boston:

It is long since death began to transport men into another world, and vast shoals or multitudes are gone thither already; yet the trade is going on still; death is ferrying off new inhabitants daily, to the house appointed for all living. Who could ever hear the grave say, It is enough? (p223).

The last question, of course, is an allusion to Proverbs 30:15-16, where four things are said never to be satisfied: the barren womb, the desert ground, the raging fire, and the grave.

Third, says Boston, 'the human body consists of perishing principles' (p223). Boston makes a majestic picture of the human constitution, dependent on the balance of so many fluids and elements, and yet death finding as many ways in as there are pores in our body. And what, he asks, of those illnesses and sicknesses with which we are afflicted -- what are they but 'death's harbingers, that come to prepare his way? They meet us as soon as we set our foot on earth, to tell us at our entry, that we do but come into the world to go out again' (p224).

Fourth, 'we have sinful souls, and therefore have dying bodies'. Death is inexplicable in any other way. And why do the godly die? Why, if they are spiritually alive, must they go to the house appointed for all living? Boston's answer is superb: 'that as death entered by sin, sin may go out by death' (p223). In other words, if the sin of the first Adam gave death a point of entrance into my experience, then my death will give my sin a point of exit through the obedience of the last Adam.

Fifthly, says Boston, this doctrine teaches us about the vanity and emptiness of man's life. 'All flesh is grass' said Isaiah in 40:5. 'What is your life?' asks James 4:14, 'You are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes'.

So in the remainder of this paper I want to look at three main points as we fill out this doctrine:

1. What death has done to us

2. What Christ has done to death

3. What we must do with death

What Death Has Done To Us

So now I need to ask -- what is this experience the Bible calls death? Well, as Berkhof reminded us, the essence of death is the idea of separation. Lorraine Boettner in his book Immortality picks up on this idea:

The Scriptures represent death as primarily a separation of soul and body. 'The dust returneth to the earth as it was, and the spirit returneth unto God who gave it' (Ecclesiastes 12:7). 'For as the body apart from the spirit is dead, even so faith apart from works is dead' (James 2:26). Death is a transition from one realm to another, and from one kind of life to another (Immortality, p40).

But perhaps with Wayne Grudem we need to nuance this further and say that 'Death is a temporary cessation of bodily life and a separation of the soul from the body' (ST, p816). The separation aspect is important; it is a reminder to us of the penal aspect of death, that what was threatened against man's sin is the opposite of the life that he enjoyed. But the separation is not forever.

So let's try to bring together some strands of biblical evidence to flesh out this concept.

First, death is personal, but it is not natural.

When physical death comes it comes with a personal summons. It cannot be avoided. There is a time to be born that is personal for each one of us, and there is a time to die. That is powerfully communicated in by W. Somerset Maugham's 1933 retelling of "The Appointment in Samarra":

There was a merchant in Baghdad who sent his servant to market to buy provisions and in a little while the servant came back, white and trembling, and said, Master, just now when I was in the marketplace I was jostled by a woman in the crowd and when I turned I saw it was Death that jostled me. She looked at me and made a threatening gesture, now, lend me your horse, and I will ride away from this city and avoid my fate. I will go to Samarra and there Death will not find me. The merchant lent him his horse, and the servant mounted it, and he dug his spurs in its flanks and as fast as the horse could gallop he went. Then the merchant went down to the marketplace and he saw me standing in the crowd and he came to me and said, Why did you make a threatening gesture to my servant when you saw him this morning? That was not a threatening gesture, I said, it was only a start of surprise. I was astonished to see him in Baghdad, for I had an appointment with him tonight in Samarra.

The Gospel is realistic, reminding us of the personal nature of that appointment, of its inevitability, its certainty. The statute requires that at a place and time known to God from all eternity, my body and my soul will be separated from one another. All that is physical of me, all that can be seen and handled, cut up and stitched back together again, will be separated from all that is non-physical of me -- my mind, my memory, my affections. Together my body and soul constitute my personality. Death will be intensely personal.

Yet for all that, death is described in the Bible as our enemy. We are born to die, but were not created to die. We die because of the curse of the covenant, because of a fractured relationship, because we have fallen from the estate in which we were created. Death is personal, but it is unnatural. It is penal -- an imposition from the judge whose law we have broken.

Second, death is an indignity, but commands our highest respect for the elements of man's constitution.

Precisely because of the unnatural nature of death, precisely because of the separation involved, we ought to recognise the importance both of the body and the soul to God. I think it is important to make this point, because very often in our evangelical tradition we have tended to emphasise the soul at the expense of the body, and have drifted into a kind of neo-gnosticism which denigrates the physical and the material in the interests of the spiritual.

Yet death is a reminder to us of the importance of both the physical and the spiritual, and the non-material. God made man body and soul, a psychosomatic unit. In the Gospel we urge men to give their hearts to Christ; but no less do we urge that the body becomes a living sacrifice, and its members given to Christ as instruments of righteousness. It is interesting that it is to this point that Paul moves in Romans 6, following his statement on justification.

But in their death the saints of the Lord are precious to him (Psalm 116:15), and their bodies are to be respected for that reason. It seems to me that we cannot discuss the idea of physical death without necessarily raising the issue of the disposal of the body. At one level, as Boettner says, the method of disposal is not of vital importance because of the power of God who is able to gather together the elements of our physical make-up according to his own power. But the method of disposal is not unimportant either:

This does not mean that there is not a great difference between burial and cremation. Certainly under normal conditions we show much more respect for the bodies of our loved ones if they are tenderly laid away in the earth, under the coverlet of green, in the postures of rest or sleep, and in as good a state of preservation as possible. The body is a really and eternally a part of man as is his spirit, and the resurrection of the body is an indispensable part of his salvation (Immortality, p51).

On the other hand, Boettner counsels against too much worldly ostentation at funeral services; 'it is rather noticeable,' he says,

that as a general rule people tend to have elaborate funerals in inverse proportion to the amount of true religion that they have. True Christians will not attempt to emulate the world, which sees in the funeral service only the end of an earthly life, but in full recognition of the biblical truths concerning death and the future life will seek to give proper respect to the bodies of their loved ones and at the same time to centre the attention of those present on the reality of the future life (Immortality, p55).

Third, death brings man's life in this world to an end, but does not mean the end of consciousness.

The secular view of death is that it is the end, which is why a secular worldview has a contradictory approach to death. As Professor D. W. Vere writes in the New Dictionary of Christian Ethics and Pastoral Theology (IVP, 1995):

On the one hand, death is seen as the ultimate terror to be avoided or postponed, even by exaggerated medical means which are doomed to fail ... On the other hand, a life can be regarded as so broken, disabled or fading as to be not worthwhile, or of no social value, and hence it may be neglected or even extinguished by voluntary or involuntary euthanasia (p284).

But the Christian worldview will accommodate the paradox that death is both end and means; there are things it does bring to an end, as it severs relationships and breaks hearts and draws the curtain on all that is familiar to us here; yet it does not mean the end of consciousness.

How clearly that is brought out by the Lord in the story of the rich man and Lazarus:

The poor man died and was carried by the angels to Abraham's side. The rich man also died and was buried, and in Hades, being in torment, he lifted up his eyes and saw Abraham afar off and Lazarus at his side (Luke 16:22-23).

In both the case of the rich man and the poor, death meant a transition into another world, a world of spirits, in which consciousness remained, in which personality remained, and in which the sensations of happiness and of misery were accentuated in terms of the eternal destinies of these two individuals. It does not lessen the force of the story to suggest that it was not literally true; what can possibly be gained by stressing the parabolic nature of a story which clearly demonstrates that the choices made in this life follow us into the life to come?

Fourth, death is a door to eternity, but does not mean a continuation of Gospel privileges.

The separation involved in physical death involves a meeting with God. The spirit returns to the God who gave it. Yet the door of entrance into the presence of God is also a door which closes Gospel opportunity. It is 'on earth' that the Son of Man has power to forgive sins, and it is before death that the issues of our salvation require to be settled.

The Reformed doctrine does not, therefore, allow or admit any room for the idea of Purgatory, or prayers for the dead, or the possibility of reconciliation with God on the other side of death if we enter death as his enemies. Ultimately, as the tree falls, so it lies (Ecclesiastes 11:3).

Fifth, death levels us all, yet its experience is dependent on our relationship to Jesus Christ.

There is a universal inevitability about death and dying. The Preacher in Ecclesiastes 3:18-20 summarised it this way:

I said in my heard with regard to the children of man that God is testing them that they may see that they themselves are but beasts. For what happens to the children of man and what happens to the beasts is the same; as one dies; so dies the other. They all have the same breath, and man has no advantage over the beasts, for all is vanity. All go to one place. All are from the dust and to dust all return.

In this passage not only is death portrayed as levelling all men, but levelling and beasts, so that our observation is that what happens to the one happens to the other.

That is true of course; yet it also true that there is a distinction to be made between those who die without Christ and those who sleep in him. As Boston goes on to develop the doctrine of death he discusses in his second chapter 'the difference between the righteous and the wicked in their death', on the basis of Proverbs 14:32, 'The wicked is driven away in his wickedness, but the righteous hath hope in his death'.

It may be in some cases, as Asaph discovered, that wicked men do not fear dying (cf. Psalm 73:4). Yet they ought to; the dark side of the cloud, according to Boston, looks towards ungodly men, passing out of the world, while the bright side of it shines on the godly as they enter their eternal state (pp244-5).

Sixth, death remains an enemy, yet for the believer is also a door of hope.

Boston p246 on the hope of believers in their death:

Death can do them no harm. It cannot even hurt their bodies; for though it separate the soul from the body, it cannot separate the body from the Lord Jesus Christ ... the husbandman has corn in his barn, and corn lying in the ground; the latter is more precious to him than the former, because he looks to get it returned with increase.

That is the ultimate hope of those who are in Christ. We sorrow for the passing of those whom we knew in the Lord, but not without hope. We know, with Paul, that death, this great separating power, cannot separate us from the love of God in Christ. Like the valley of Achor, death has become for the child of God a door of hope (Hosea 2:15).

That is why Jonathan Edwards can preach at the funeral of his dear friend David Brainerd on the words of 2 Corinthians 5:8: 'We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord.'

In this great sermon, Edwards says that he wishes simply to insist on the observation which is plainly set before us in the words of the text, that "the souls of true saints, when they leave their bodies at death, go to be with Christ".

Edwards asks: what does this mean? In what sense do Christians go to be with Christ when they die? He suggests the following:

First, "they go to dwell in the same blessed abode with the glorified human nature of Christ" (2:27). "There is a place," Edwards says, "to which Christ is gone" (2:27), and this is where the inheritance of the saints of God is. Edwards cites several biblical examples to highlight this point.

Second, he says that "the souls of true saints, when they leave their bodies at death, go to be with Christ, to dwell in the immediate, full and constant view of him" (2:28). Here, while we are in the body, Christ is in some respects 'out of our view', but in Heaven the saints behold his glory: "they see everything that tends to kindle, enflame and gratify love, and everything that tends to satisfy them: and that in the most clear and glorious manner, without any impediment or interruption" (2:28). Edwards compares our vision of the Saviour here to the sunrise at dawn, in which light is mingled with darkness, but to be separated from the body is to see the sun "showing his whole disk above the horizon" (2:28).

Third, "the souls of true saints, when absent from the body, go to be with Jesus Christ, as they are brought into a most perfect conformity to, and union with him" (2:28). This is the fulfilling and perfecting of the work which was begun here below.

Fourth, "departed souls of saints are with Christ as they enjoy a glorious and immediate intercourse and converse with him" (2:28). All that interrupted their fellowship here will be done away with, and they will go to their marriage with him; here they are in a state of betrothal, prepared for the day of the marriage to the King. They will see him as he is, and express their love to him as they never could while they were in the body. "Thus," he says, "they shall eat and drink abundantly, and swim in the ocean of love, and be eternally swallowed up on the infinitely bright, and infinitely mild and sweet, beams of divine love; eternally receiving that light, eternally full of it, and eternally compassed round with it, and everlastingly reflecting it back again to its fountain" (2:29).

Fifth, "the souls of the saints, when they leave their bodies at death, go to be with Christ, as they are received to a glorious fellowship with Christ in his blessedness" (2:29). Edwards explores the implications of this: the saints have fellowship with Christ in the enjoyment of his Father, in 'the glory of that dominion to which the Father hath exalted him' (2:30), in 'his blessed and eternal employment of glorifying the Father' (2:31).

That is the doctrine of the text: that for the believer, death does not mean the end; it merely means relocation; it does not mean that I cease to exist, but it does mean that my place in one location is empty, while I am taken elsewhere. In that relocation there is an immediate sense of being face to face with Jesus.

So when Edwards comes to the application of this sermon, he says:

Let us all be exhorted hence earnestly to seek after that great privilege, that when "we are absent from the body, we may be present with the Lord." We cannot continue always in these earthly tabernacles; ? they are very frail, and will soon decay and fall, and are continually liable to be overthrown by innumerable means. Our souls must soon leave them, and go into the eternal world. ? O, how infinitely great will the privilege and happiness of such be, who at that time shall go to be with Christ in his glory, in the manner that has been represented! (2:32)

Seventh, death has the last word, yet does not have the ultimate word.

The ultimate word belongs to Jesus, who holds the key of death in his hands. That is why it is so tremendous to read in Revelation 21:4 -- 'He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain any more, for the former things have passed away.'

What Christ Has Done To Death

This hope of ours, faced as we are with the universality of death, and the complex of sin-condemnation-death, is ours only because of what Jesus has done for us. I want just to refer to the treatment of Christ's saving work in Hebrews 2:14-18:

Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise took part of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery. For surely it is not angels that he helps, but he helps the offspring of Abraham. Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.

There are many other passages to which we could refer, but here the saving, priestly work of Jesus is portrayed as a war on terror, and an assault on the devil's kingdom. Death holds men in fear; salvation requires more than saying 'there is nothing to fear'; it requires destroying him that has the power of death. There is a very intricate balance in this passage; why does the writer move from talking about destroying death to talking about Jesus becoming like us? Because that is the natural transition from end to means, from purpose to method; Jesus could only destroy the angel we call the devil by becoming, not like angels, but like men. Only then might he die and secure our freedom.

So Owen, in his commentary on this verse:

The first and principal end of the Lord Christ's assuming human nature, was not to reign in it, but to suffer and die in it ... Glory was to follow, a kingdom to ensue, but suffering and dying were the principal work he came about ... He need not have been made partaker of flesh and blood to have been a king; for he was the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the King of kings and Lord of lords, the only Potentate, from everlasting. But he could not have died if he had not been made partaker of our nature (XX, p447).

And for Jesus, no less than for us, death meant a real, temporary separation of soul and body, a judicial imposition of the curse of the broken covenant. He died for no sin of his own, yet his death was penal. It was for us, therefore it was substitutionary. Let us hold to the penal, substitutionary nature of the cross as the only hope for fallen man.

The warrior king, as Hugh Martin tells us in The Atonement, separated his soul from his body as a soldier separates the sword from its sheath, with the empty scabbard bound to his person while the drawn sword is in his hand. So Martin:

Alike in death and after death, both the soul and the body of Emmanuel were in his own power. In the very grave, his dead body was in his own power, for it was in his own person, in union indissoluble with his Godhead. So likewise, of course, was his soul, united, still as ever, with his Godhead. And here, in death, was a check to death, such as the last enemy had never hitherto received. Here are a human soul and a human body of the selfsame person, thoroughly separated from each other, precisely as in the case of a dead mere man, verifying the assertion, therefore, that this Man, though not a mere man, is nevertheless a dead man, and all death's claims are therefore satisfied. (The Atonement, p87)

This, says Martin, is 'priestly action uninterrupted by death, yea, triumphing in death' (The Atonement, p93).

What We Must Do With Death

This brings me back to Boston, and to his counsel to us to 'improve this doctrine'. To what practical use can we put it? What should its effect and influence on us be? Boston suggests five things.

First, 'let us hence, as in a looking glass, behold the vanity of the world, and of all these things in it, which men much value and esteem, and therefore set their hearts upon ... when death comes, you must bid an eternal farewell to thy enjoyments in this world' (p228). The fact of death ought to modify and temper the way we relate to the world. Let us remember, as Boston reminds us, that 'this world is a false friend, who leaves a man in time of greatest need'.

Second, the doctrine 'may serve as a storehouse for Christian contentment and patience under worldly losses and crosses. A close application of the doctrine of death is an excellent remedy against fretting, and gives some ease to a troubled heart' (p229). Though we have troubles to face and trials to bear, the biblical doctrine of death reminds us that this is only transient. These crosses will not last long. In the light of the eternal weight of glory, our sufferings, heavy though they may well be, can be described as 'light affliction' (2 Corinthians 4:17).

Third, the doctrine of death 'may serve for a bridle, to curb all manner of lusts, particularly those conversant about the body' (p230). Given that our bodies will soon lie in the grave, should we pander inordinately to their care? Why should we glory in our appearance, when our body will soon become a feast to the worms? Why should we be earthly minded, and concerned about material things, when they are a passing show? Now Boston is not advocating disengagement from the necessary duties of the world; there are things we must attend to, because they are 'servants belonging to the inn where we are lodging', but soon we will leave them all behind.

Fourth, the doctrine of death 'may serve as a spring of Christian resolution to cleave to Christ, adhere to his truths, and continue in his ways, whatever we may suffer for so doing' (p233). Our persecutors will soon be dashed in pieces. Hold on to Christ, resolutely; 'undervalue life', because death will soon rob us of it. This is Boston telling us, to use Jim Elliott's words, that 'he is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose'.

Fifth, Boston says that a consideration of the doctrine of death 'may serve for a spur to incite us to prepare for death' (p233). We need to make all diligence to advance our acquaintance with the Lord of the world to which we are going. 'We have nothing we can call ours but the present moment, and that is flying away' (p234).

Someone described the Puritans as a people who knew how to die; and because they knew how to die, they knew how to live. May we too learn how to live by learning how to die.