AT dying we speak in a two-fold sense of unbinding. By death the soul is unbound from the body, and as the result of dying the body itself goes on to unbinding, i.e., to dissolution.
This means, that before dying, i.e., in the strength of our life, the soul binds the body and the body the soul. Two ties, therefore, which are unloosed by death. And so the soul is unbound from the tie of the body, and the body unbound from the tie of the soul.
In life there was mutual binding; by death there is mutual unbinding.
The unbinding, which liberates the body, is most readily understood, because it takes place in the material.
Our body consists of dust (matter), and even as in all other matter so in the matter of our body there operate certain powers. In these matters are chemical operations; there are vegetable, there are animal phenomena in them. And these several powers and operations, added to influences from without, come of themselves to disintegrate the body, and to dissolve it into its component parts.
So long as man lives, this does not succeed, because in the living man the soul holds all these powers and operations in leash, and compels them to render service. When the tie, by which the soul keeps all the workings in the body in leash is drawn but a little tightly or unstitched, we are ill. And when finally death steps in, so that the soul lets that tie go altogether loose, there follows very speedily unbinding, i.e., the powers and workings, which thus far had been controlled by the soul, are now let loose, and the body, once so beautiful, is now unbound into its smallest component parts.
The body was built up from dust, and now by this unbinding it returns to dust again.
That there was also an ordering something in matter, by which at the construction of the body those millions of material particles (cells or parts of cells, as they are now called), imparted that wondrously beautiful form, and perfected those organs in us, and established those proportions of our two eyes, ears, etc., is certainly true. Even with smallest plants there is now more and more recognized such an ordering principle, such a regulating force.
But leaving this aside, is it not entirely clear, that in life these particles of matter of many sorts and workings in our body were bound, and that after our dying they become unbound, even in such a way that all the visible, there was to us, becomes unbound, i.e., dissolved.
That which held the body bound was the soul; what lets it loose is the soul at separation; and thus the unbinding which follows upon death, is the direct result of the separation between soul and body.
YET this is not the sense in which the apostle speaks of having “a desire to be unbound” (Phil. 1, 23, Dutch version). The unbinding which after death takes place in the corpse, is something repulsive, something that offends and repels. While the becoming unbound, of which the apostle here speaks, is something desirable. Not yet desired therefore by every one. By far the most still shrink from the thought of being thus unbound. Even not all believers by far desire thus to be unbound. Yet there are those, to whom the thought of this unbinding has become a matter of desire. And when the apostle wrote to the church at Philippi, he took the lead in this of us all.
What unbinding then does this refer to?
And the answer is: Not the loosening of the body from the soul, but the loosening of the soul from the body.
It refers here to the same thing, which in Romans 7 the apostle expresses, by saying: Who shall deliver me, loosen me, unbind me from the body of this death?
The word itself, unbound, which is here used, is borrowed from what happens when one goes on a journey, when one departs, when one leaves the place where thus far he abode.
In the original language it is used of a two-fold departure: Of the going to sea on the part of the sailor, and of the pulling-up of the tent on a desert journey.
First the ship lay tied to the shore or at anchor. Thus with cable or chain it was bound to anchor or dolphin. And now, by drawing in the cable or lifting of the anchor, that tie is unloosed. So the ship becomes free. Now it is unbound. The journey begins.
Or, instead of a sea-voyage, one takes his course through a sand-sea, not in a ship, but in a tent. The tent stood by its straps bound to the pinnings. But now the cords are unloosed. The pins are pulled up. The tent is folded and the camels are laden. The journey through the desert takes its start.
Two images, which portray our dying with wondrous beauty.
Yonder the haven of the eternal rest. Between us and that haven lies the ocean of eternity. And now at dying the bark of our life is unloosed, and the journey to the haven of eternal rest begins.
Or, we dwelt here in our tent. But now with dying a change steps in. The tent that lodged us is unloosed and broken up. Our soul is unbound. And set free from this earthly tabernacle, it begins its last day’s journey, and enters into the fatherland.
YET, apart from this imagery, at the root of this becoming unbound there lies the thought, that our soul was bound to the body, and by the body to the earth, and that at dying this double band is broken, and the liberated soul receives wings, by which to lift itself up to the mountains of God’s holiness.
What now is your thought of that boundenness of soul to body?
It has been represented, as though the soul were locked up in the body as in a prison. The body was then taken as something to be afraid of, as something apart, as something foreign to you, and the soul was imprisoned in it.
This, however, will not stand before God’s Word.
In that case there could be no mention of a resurrection of the glorified body. He who has once escaped from prison, will shun it. And a glorified prison is an idea that contradicts itself.
No, your body is not the prison, but the organ, the instrument, the vesture, the appearance-form of your soul in the visible and the external.
The body belongs with the soul. The soul is disposed to the possession of the body. To be outside of the body, is for the soul an unnatural condition. And though she can not prevent the separation, yet she dies in the hope of once again, and then on better conditions, to be reunited with her body.
The apostle even views it as a privilege for those, who shall live to see Jesus’ return, that they shall be spared the separation from the body, and that, without this dreadful separation, their body shall at once be glorified.
Something like what happened on Tabor, when Jesus was glorified, and shone in heavenly splendor, without death having stepped in between.
The fact is, that by sin neither our soul nor our body is now, what they should be, and that consequently the relation also between soul and body has become perturbed.
This now cannot be restored, but soul and body must first be taken from one another.
Hence the separation, which enters in at death.
And hence he who is in the right attitude must have a desire after that separation.
For through that separation leads the way to reunion in glorious harmony.
BUT then our body also must be to us a copy of our soul in the visible. Every thought, every power, every operation, every purpose must then house in the soul, and from the soul seek to press to the outside. And our body must then offer our soul such an instrument, such an organ, such an organization, as she needs, to make these thoughts, these operations, these powers to come to the outside, to reach the by her intended goal.
The soul in the centers of our nervous-life must touch the nervous system. By means of the nervous system she must be able, to become aware of what goes on outside of her. And at the same time, through those nerves transfer her inner motion first to her body-sphere, and then to the outside of her.
So it is not our eye that sees, and not our ear that hears, but it is our soul that sees and hears, through the window of our eye and through the telephone of our ear.
When some one swoons, he is gone, and must be brought to again. But though he is gone from the observable world, he is still here. Only, at that moment his body does not serve him. He is not aware of anything around him, and can no more operate through his body. But that he continued to be here and still is, appears presently when he comes to again. Also, he revives with precisely the same soul, which is just what it was before, with the same remembrances, thoughts, representations, operations and powers.
Now at dying this “being gone” is not merely for a moment, but permanent, going on until the resurrection of the dead.
But essentially the matter is one and the same.
The body no longer performs its service. The body is taken away from the soul. The soul now is without the body.
Nevertheless the soul remains the same with her consciousness, with her power of representation, with her inner driving and working and power.
Nothing has been taken away from the soul. In nothing has she been lessened. Only, she stands before a closed door. She can no more look into this visible world. She can no longer hear the sounds of this world. In this world she can no longer work or exercise power. The expression of her power in this world is prevented her.
If for becoming-aware or for self-expression in the Father-house above, a similar instrument were necessary, the soul in heaven would have no knowledge of anything, nor be able to express herself.
But such is not the case.
In the world of the heavens the soul takes immediate cognizance, and can immediately express herself, even as angels do this.
Hence in this new world she does not miss the body. She has no need of it. She is enough unto herself.
It is with this as with the eye and the glass. A captain at sea can not observe things in the far distance without his glass. Suppose his glass fell away, and his eye changed into an eagle’s-eye, he would yet be able to observe just as accurately and just as far, but now without need of the instrument.
Lack, therefore, is not occasioned for the moment by being unbound from the body.
Only, the soul knows, that God has His visible world, and that man is disposed and created, in that world also to glorify his God.
And therefore, and for this alone, the soul in eternity yearns for the resurrection of the body.
Not from self-willed desire, but by virtue of the creation-ordinance of God.
← 12. The Spirit of Man Which Is in Him · Contents · 14. From the Body of This Death →