Call it a joke or a pig in a poke, A ruse that had left me confused, But God has a way of taking His turn To wonder us, then to amuse.
How sad, I was told, that as I got old My body would show its decay, That people would see death at work in me, I’d lose hair and my breath every day.
I heard it was said that when I was dead To ashes and dust I’d return My body, it seems, with its proteins and genes, Was menued as food for the worms.
Two parts of a whole, my body and soul, Together they’d never exist; My body I’d lose, in spirit I’d live, Reincarnate or ghost in the mist.
So here’s the surprise, midst a body of lies, I’m looking at One who has died, And I’m watching Him there, not a mist in the air, In His body He’s come back alive!
Turns out, it’s no joke, nor a pig in a poke, No matter what Greeks may have mused, If He rose with His proteins and genes now intact, These our bodies are not ours to lose.
Like Rubens’ in heaven with glory to seven Our heart, hands, and toenails will rise. This body we pamper, abuse, and ignore Is ours for the keeping, a prize!