"If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins" (1 Corinthians 15:17). Paul stakes everything on the bodily resurrection. Not "Jesus lives on in our hearts." Not "His teachings are immortal." Not "His spirit ascended to heaven." A literal, physical, bodily resurrection from death to life.
This is Christianity's most distinctive and most scandalous claim. Ancient pagans could accommodate a dying-and-rising god myth. Modern spiritualists can accommodate consciousness surviving death. But a corpse becoming alive again, walking out of a tomb in a transformed but still physical body—that's something else entirely.
It's the claim materialism cannot accommodate. Materialism holds that physical processes are causally closed—only physical causes produce physical effects. Death is the irreversible cessation of biological functions. Dead brains don't restart. Decomposing tissue doesn't reconstitute. Resurrection violates everything we know about how material reality operates.
This is precisely why the resurrection matters so much. If it happened, materialism is false. There's more to reality than matter and energy following physical laws. There's a God who can intervene in material processes, who has power over life and death, who can do what nature cannot.
The early Christians knew how absurd this sounded. Paul's Athenian audience laughed at him when he mentioned resurrection (Acts 17:32). Jewish listeners were skeptical—many Jews believed in future general resurrection, but resurrection of one person in the middle of history was unprecedented. Greco-Roman culture considered the body a prison; why would anyone want it back?
Yet the apostles insisted on it anyway. They claimed to have seen the risen Jesus—not a ghost or vision, but a physical person who ate food, could be touched, and bore scars from crucifixion. Thomas put his fingers in the nail holes. The disciples ate fish with Him. He appeared to over 500 people at once.
These weren't credulous, superstitious people predisposed to believe. The disciples initially thought the women's resurrection report was nonsense. Thomas demanded physical proof. The accounts emphasize their skepticism and surprise. They didn't expect resurrection and weren't easily convinced.
What changed their minds? They claimed direct experience. They saw Him, heard Him, touched Him, ate with Him. This wasn't theoretical theology or hoped-for faith. They claimed empirical encounter with the resurrected Christ.
Skeptics offer alternative explanations: hallucination, legend, conspiracy. But these struggle to account for the evidence:
Hallucination doesn't explain the empty tomb. If the disciples hallucinated seeing Jesus, His body would still be in the grave. Jewish authorities could have produced the corpse to refute resurrection claims. They didn't.
Legend doesn't fit the timeline. Legendary embellishment typically requires generations. Christianity spread based on resurrection claims within years of Jesus's death, while eyewitnesses were still alive. Paul writes about the resurrection within 20-25 years, citing witnesses who could be questioned.
Conspiracy doesn't explain the disciples' behavior. Conspirators don't voluntarily endure persecution and martyrdom for claims they know are false. The disciples weren't deluded fanatics; they claimed to be eyewitnesses. If they knew it was a lie, their subsequent behavior makes no sense.
The transformation of the disciples is itself evidence. Before Easter, they were fearful, demoralized, hiding. After, they were bold, joyful, proclaiming resurrection publicly despite opposition. Something dramatic happened to explain this change.
The conversion of Paul is also significant. He was persecuting Christians, convinced they were blasphemous heretics. Then he claimed to encounter the risen Christ and became Christianity's greatest missionary. What explains this radical reversal? Either the resurrection actually occurred, or Paul experienced something he couldn't distinguish from it.
As an autistic person who values empirical evidence, I find the historical case for resurrection surprisingly strong. This isn't blind faith ignoring evidence. It's inference to the best explanation given the data: empty tomb, eyewitness testimony, transformed disciples, converted skeptics, rapid spread of resurrection belief.
Alternative explanations require more implausibility than accepting the resurrection. We have to posit mass hallucination despite varied witnesses, legendary development despite tight timeline, or conspiracy despite martyrdom. The resurrection, while miraculous, has better explanatory power.
But why does bodily resurrection matter? Couldn't Christianity survive on Jesus's teachings and spiritual presence?
Paul says no. Without resurrection, Christ isn't vindicated, death isn't defeated, and we have no hope beyond this life. Christianity becomes another philosophy teaching moral principles but offering no power to transform or ultimate hope.
The resurrection validates everything Jesus claimed. If He's still dead, His claims about divine authority are empty. If He's risen, He's who He said He was—Lord, Messiah, God incarnate. The resurrection is God's stamp of approval on Jesus's entire ministry.
It also demonstrates God's power over the material world. This isn't gnosticism teaching escape from matter into spirit. It's affirming that God created matter, that He incarnated in matter, and that He will redeem matter. The resurrection is the first fruits of new creation—material reality renewed and transformed, not discarded.
For materialism, death is the end. Consciousness is brain activity, so when the brain dies, consciousness ceases. There's no soul, no afterlife, no hope beyond the grave. "You get one life, make it count, then oblivion."
Christianity rejects this bleak conclusion. Death isn't the end; it's a defeated enemy. We will be resurrected, not as disembodied spirits but as transformed physical beings. The new creation isn't ethereal heaven but renewed heavens and renewed earth—material reality perfected.
This has ethical implications. If matter is good, created by God and destined for redemption, then how we treat material reality matters. Our bodies matter. The physical world matters. Social justice, creation care, embodied life—all these matter eternally, not just temporarily.
The resurrection also grounds hope in suffering. Paul can say "to live is Christ, to die is gain" (Philippians 1:21) because death isn't final. Martyrdom isn't senseless waste but faithful witness, knowing resurrection awaits. Present suffering is "not worth comparing with the glory to be revealed" (Romans 8:18).
Without resurrection, this is delusional. If death is the end, martyrdom is foolish and suffering is meaningless. But if resurrection is real, then Paul's perspective is perfectly rational. Present losses are temporary; future glory is eternal.
Christianity stands or falls on the resurrection. If it didn't happen, Christianity is false—interesting ethics, inspiring stories, but ultimately untrue. If it did happen, everything changes. Death is defeated, God is real, materialism is false, and hope is justified.
This is why I'm a Christian. Not because it's comforting or culturally familiar. Because I'm convinced the resurrection actually happened. The historical evidence, while not absolutely conclusive, is strong enough to justify belief. The explanatory power of the resurrection is greater than alternative explanations.
And if Jesus rose from the dead, then His claims deserve serious consideration, His teachings carry divine authority, and His offer of salvation is genuine. A God powerful enough to raise Jesus from death is powerful enough to save me from sin and death.
That's Christianity's scandal and its glory. Not ethereal spirituality or timeless philosophy, but an outrageous historical claim: a dead man walked out of his tomb alive, and because He did, death no longer has the final word.
"Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?" (1 Corinthians 15:54-55). Materialists must mock this as wishful thinking. Christians proclaim it as accomplished fact. Everything hinges on whether the tomb was actually empty that first Easter morning.
I believe it was. And that makes all the difference.