I’m noticing more and more issues with my aging body. It used to take running full speed into a wall while playing racquetball for me to feel sore the following day. Now I can sleep wrong and be hunched over for days. This daily drama has me thinking about my promised “glorified body” and how it might be different from this one.
Don’t get me wrong, I am thoroughly in awe of God’s design of my current body. Cuts are resealed automatically, bones are knit anew after a break, and items pulled out of the dirt (like carrots) can be ingested and turned into fuel! I rightly blame the fall – original sin – for why my body seems to perform more and more poorly with each passing day. But I imagine the day when we receive our “glorified body orientation training” (which occurs AFTER the second coming, not upon death). It might look something like this:
You open your eyes.
There is no sun, yet the light is all around you. It has warmth, but not heat. You don’t feel cold, or weighty, or even tired. In fact, you feel more awake than you ever have. A figure steps forward to greet you. Radiant, serene, and smiling. “Welcome,” says an angelic being.
You look around. Your hands. Your arms. Your legs. Even your skin seems different—pure, whole, vibrant. You ask, “This is my body?”
“Yes,” says the angel. “Your glorified body. Fashioned for eternity. You are fearfully and wonderfully made—again.”
You stand upright, realizing your posture feels perfect. No pain in the knees. No tightness in the back. No soreness. No stiffness. You ask quietly, “I feel… brand new. But am I still me?”
“You are more you than you have ever been,” says the angel. “Nothing essential to your identity has been lost. But everything broken has been renewed.”
“Do I still look like me?” you ask. “You resemble yourself, yes. But not in decay or age or blemish. You are what God intended you to be when He formed you in the womb. Just as Jesus was recognized in His resurrected body, so will you be.”
You examine your hands again and smile. No scars. No age spots. That pencil lead stuck in your little finger since the first grade is gone. Even your fingernails look… purposeful. “You’ll keep your personality,” says the angel. “But sin no longer corrupts your desires. Your memory remains, but shame has been erased.”
You suddenly wonder something simple. “Do I have… a belly button?” The angel smiles again. “Yes, though not from an umbilical cord. The design of your glorified body honors original creation. Some marks of your earthly origin remain—not by necessity, but by beauty. Just as scars can become stories, so too some remnants of your former life serve a purpose in glory.”
You laugh softly. Then another question arises. “What about my hair? Do I have it? And my beard? Will I have to shave?”
“Your body is now incorruptible. You won’t experience cellular death, which means no more trimming hair or nails. These things once grew as your body aged and wore down. Now they remain, exactly as they should be.”
“Even eyebrows?” “Even eyebrows,” says the angel. “They were once intended for directing sweat from your eyes. But in glory, you won’t sweat. There’s no danger, no overheating, no anxiety. Yet your design still reflects God’s perfect artistry.”
You run your fingers over your eyebrows, marveling at the texture. Then you glance down at your feet.“I still have toes?” The angel seems pleased by the question. “Indeed. Your feet are a marvel of divine engineering. In your earthly body, the subtle arching, flexing muscles, and even the small bones of your toes helped you stand, run, pivot, and maintain balance. Though your glorified body is not subject to weakness, the design is retained—because God’s architecture was always good. You won’t need to rely on them for balance anymore, but their beauty remains.” You take a few steps. The ground responds like it was made just for your feet. “I’m amazed,” you say.
“Will I need to eat?” “Yes,” says the angel, “but not out of necessity. Jesus ate fish after rising from the dead. In heaven, you eat for joy, not survival. The Tree of Life bears fruit for the healing of the nations. Eating will be worshipful, satisfying, but there will be no waste. Your body now perfectly absorbs what is given. You will eat without discomfort. No indigestion. No hunger. No, ah, elimination.”
“No… waste?”
“No toilets,” says the angel, with a smile. “There is nothing unclean here. Nothing that must be discarded or hidden. The biology of glory is efficient beyond your imagining.”
You chuckle. “That’s one less thing to worry about.”
You hesitate with your next question.
“What about… sex? Will I still be male?”
“Yes,” says the angel. “Male and female were created by God—not as temporary biology, but as reflections of His image. You remain who you were made to be. But marriage as you knew it on earth no longer applies. Jesus said that in the resurrection, they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like the angels. Intimacy here is perfected, not erased. Love is deeper. But there is no reproduction. No lust. No loss. No longing unfulfilled.”
You pause, both relieved and contemplative. “So relationships here are better?”
“Far better,” says the angel. “All you’ve ever experienced was a shadow of what love will be here.”
A rush of thoughts comes to you. “Will I remember things? Will I forget anything?”
“Your memory will be whole,” says the angel. “You shall know even as you are fully known. No more confusion. No forgetting names or where you placed things. Your memory is now sanctified—retaining all that is good, all that glorifies God.”
You grin. “So, can I finally learn to play the piano? I tried when my kids were young but couldn’t find middle C!”
“Not only can you play,” says the angel, “but you will find your mind eager to learn. Your fingers will respond instantly. All your faculties—mental, creative, emotional—are no longer limited. You may learn languages, master instruments, explore concepts with perfect comprehension. There is no frustration here. Only delight in discovery.”
“Speaking of languages,” you say, “do we all speak one language? Will I be able to understand others?”
“Every tribe, nation, and tongue will be represented here,” says the angel. “Some newcomers assume a new language will unify us. Others think they will instantly understand all languages. But remember Pentecost? The Spirit gives understanding without translation. In glory, nothing will hinder communion.”
You wonder what it will sound like to sing with people from every age and nation.
Another thought arises. “Will I sleep?” “Well, there is no night here,” says the angel gently. “You no longer need to rest for recovery, or sleep to heal. Your body does not decay or tire. You are never drained, never foggy, never in need of restoration. You may rest in joy, but not from necessity.”
You blink. “So, there’s just… endless energy?”
“Endless joy,” replies the angel. “You are not driven by compulsion here, but sustained by glory. The Lamb is your light, and you will never grow weary.”
Then a heavier question settles in your chest. “What about sadness? Will I cry?”
The angel looks at you kindly. “Scripture says, ‘He will wipe away every tear.’ That means tears may still exist—at least for a time. You may weep from joy, or in a moment of holy remembrance. But sorrow will not linger. Pain will not remain. There is no regret here.”
You swallow hard. “But what if I remember people who… aren’t here?”
The angel’s expression deepens. “You will be aware of loss. You will recall loved ones who did not believe – did not follow the Lamb. But you will see as God sees. His perfect justice. His perfect mercy. His judgment will be clear to you, and your heart will not resist it.”
You ask, “Will I be able to see the suffering of others still back on Earth?”
“There is a mystery there,” the angel says. “Jesus spoke of a great chasm between those in comfort and those in torment. Abraham, in that account, saw both. But this you must trust: nothing in you will rebel against God’s justice. Your tears, if they come, will be wiped away—not dismissed, but personally removed by the One who understands both your sorrow and your joy.”
You’re quiet for a moment. “So I’ll still feel emotions?”
“More than ever,” the angel says. “But without distortion. You will laugh, rejoice, sing, and love. You will be moved by beauty, thrilled by truth, stirred by worship. But there will be no bitterness, no envy, no grief that overwhelms. You will be fully human, fully alive, and never again burdened.”
You begin to feel a deep anticipation in your chest—a longing met and overflowing. You ask, “Will I move like Jesus did? He entered a locked room and moved between towns instantaneously. Will I be able to… fly? Teleport?”
“You will not be bound by weakness,” says the angel. “Jesus ascended. He appeared and disappeared. Your glorified body, like His, will be powerful, imperishable, spiritual. Not immaterial—but freed from corruption. Movement will be purposeful, even thought-directed.”
You nod, slowly. “So much to take in,” you whisper.
“There is more still,” says the angel, smiling. “But eternity has no shortage of time. For now, step forward.” You take a step. The ground is firm, welcoming, alive beneath your feet.
Your body feels like it’s finally working with you, not against you. You ask quietly, “What now?”
The angel opens his arms toward the light. “Welcome to forever!”
As I imagine the wonder of my glorified body—whole, holy, and unhindered—I feel invited to reflect on how I live in my current, fragile frame. Scripture calls us to glorify God in our bodies even now (1 Corinthians 6:20), not because they are already perfect, but because they are temples of the Holy Spirit and destined for transformation.
The hope of resurrection is not just a future promise but a present motivation. Knowing that God will one day restore every part of us—mind, body, and soul—shapes how we steward our health, our habits, and our holiness today. Ask yourself; Are you living in light of that coming glory? Are you honoring the image of God in others, and in yourself?
The resurrection isn’t just about getting a new body—it’s about belonging to a new creation, and that starts now. As we wait eagerly for that day, we should not live in despair over what is fading, but in anticipation of what will last forever!