“For we know that when this earthly tent we live in is taken down (that is, when we die and leave this earthly body), we will have a house in heaven, an eternal body made for us by God Himself and not by human hands. We grow weary in our present bodies, and we long to put on our heavenly bodies like new clothing” (2 Corinthians 5:1-2 NLT).
When I was young (yes, way long time ago), I went camping quite often. I was in a Girl Scout troop, and also my family went camping on several occasions. Now when I say camping, I don’t mean we had a comfy RV with air conditioning and mattresses; no, this was tent camping, as in carry your tent to a (hopefully) level spot, spread it out, put the tent poles together, raise the canvas, and hammer down the stakes.
My family had a tent that was a bit snazzier—it had a floor. Our 6-person tent also had door flaps that zipped up to keep critters and bugs out, provided children going in and out of the tent remembered to zip it up. Our little church on the mountain in Huntsville even hosted church campouts at a nearby state park just north of us in Tennessee, so we enjoyed wonderful fellowship with our brothers and sisters in Christ and learned valuable lessons such as whose dad made the best hamburgers over the campfire.
Scout camping was more rugged and hands-on, however. As scouts we didn’t have tents with floors sewn in, so we had a waterproof ground cover to serve as a floor. Imagine getting a group of 10- to 14-year-olds to work cooperatively in setting up tents, building campfires, planning and cooking meals, and figuring out where the latrine should be. The Girl Scout organization had a system that enabled leaders to accomplish these tasks without too much chaos, but even so, sometimes the weather did not cooperate with us. One spring afternoon, we set up camp near a peaceful little lake, using 2 person tents provided by the local Girl Scout Association. During the night a heavy downpour with gusty wind left many of us with soaked sleeping bags when the rain blew in under the side flaps. Damp preteens are not happy people. But usually, camping was fun.
When my kids were young, our family camped in local state parks, both children had their share of camping experiences in Scouts, and we even went camping as a couple after the children were grown. However, this type of outdoor living was always temporary. After a few days or a week, we always returned home to our indoor plumbing, electric stove, refrigerator, and leak-proof house. And I still prefer living in my house as opposed to staying in a tent. It is not surprising that the Apostle Paul, a tentmaker by trade, compares life to living in a tent, which even by first century standards was generally considered to be temporary housing.
“For we know that when this earthly tent we live in is taken down (that is, when we die and leave this earthly body), we will have a house in heaven, an eternal body made for us by God Himself and not my human hands” (2 Cor. 5:1).
We are all aware of the debilitating effects of aging on the human body we just aren’t built to last. But to have an eternal body that never wears out, breaks down, or sags due to the effects of gravity? What a promise! In the first century, even those whose homes were tents, such as herders or travelling merchants, knew the transitory nature of tent living—tents required more maintenance and repair than permanent structures. During his missionary journeys, Paul often supported himself with his handy skill in tent repair and construction. Tents just don’t last as well as bricks and mortar. The same is true of our earthly bodies—just ask anyone over 35. As Christians, we can look forward to a new mode of habitation: “We grow weary in our present bodies, and we long to put on our heavenly bodies like new clothing. For we will put on heavenly bodies; we will not be spirits without bodies” (2 Cor. 5:2-3). Although God is spirit, He has promised us real physical bodies in heaven, and we will see Jesus in that form as well. Won’t that be wonderful? Our earthly tents are wearing out. Many of us don’t like how we look and are even less fond of what time has done to our bodies.
For example, I belong to the Alabama Singing Women, and a few weeks ago I volunteered to take photographs of over thirty women in our group for our directory. The photos were just head shots—from the collar bone up. When I showed the results to each of them, most frowned or made unfavorable comments about their photos—only two smiled and seemed happy with the results. But do you know what I saw in those photos? I saw dear friends who are funny and kind and loving. I saw talented, dedicated musicians who work for hours on our music. I saw women who pray and shed tears for others who are in distress or grief. These women are my Christian sisters, some I have known for years and some I just met, who share a love of Christ and sweet music that lifts praise to our Heavenly Father in beautiful harmony. I wish you could hear us when we sing from our hearts in worship. I like to think that is close to how heaven will sound. None of us is perfect, but we have a perfect Savior who has been and is transforming us to be like Him. Our earthly tents may be tattered and worn thin in places, but inside the tents are souls that love the Lord and long to be in His presence someday. As Paul wrote to the Corinthians, “While we live in these earthly bodies, we groan and sigh, but it’s not that we want to die and get rid of these bodies that clothe us. Rather, we want to put on our new bodies so that these dying bodies will be swallowed up by life” (2 Cor. 5:4). We don’t have a death wish, but we do have hope that life everlasting will embrace us, replacing these ragged, temporary tents with God-built homes for our souls.
How do we know this? Simply because Jesus told us (“I go to prepare a place for you”—remember?) and because “God Himself has prepared us for this, and as a guarantee He has given us His Holy Spirit” (2 Cor. 5:5). If you are a follower of Jesus, the Holy Spirit guarantees that God is guiding you, protecting you, teaching you, molding you just as He wants you to be. What is on the inside, what I saw in my beautiful friends, is the part of us that lasts. We will one day throw off that tired, worn-out tent and find ourselves clothed in our heavenly bodies, perfectly designed by God.
Look in the mirror. Chances are you don’t like what you see, but in faith look past the surface and try to catch a glimpse of what the Lord sees, the person He is sanctifying for eternity. “So we are always confident, even though we know that as long as we live in these bodies we are not at home with the Lord. For we live by believing and not by seeing” (2 Cor. 5:6-7). Focus on the transformation taking place within you rather than bemoaning the tattered condition of the “earthly tent” on the outside. You are beautiful, and your Lord delights in you. I’ll be praying for you.
