Was Marx Right About Religion?

The Pathway to Glory

Is the idea of glorification an opiate for the masses? Karl Marx would have thought so. He argued that religion leads the believer to focus on the prospect of the world to come and to neglect this one. He famously wrote: “Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people.”¹ He described heaven as a fantasy.² This is the proverbial “pie-in-the-sky-when-you-die” mentality, to borrow a line from a song written by Joe Hill in 1911. Hill was an activist for organized labor. His song parodies the well-known Christian hymn “In the Sweet By-and-By.” However, as we shall see, the biblical testimony is that the process of glorification has already begun in this life. Moreover, as we shall also see, the prospect of glory provides motivation to live a godly life in the here and now. The prospect of the world to come should lead believers to service in this one. Furthermore, glorification as a process and a prospect is a work of the triune God. It is a gospel benefit.

Two Paradoxes of Glorification

There are two paradoxes to consider regarding glorification and our experience in following Christ. The first has to do with the outer and the inner. As we have seen, the apostle Paul conceived of glorification as beginning in the here and now: from one degree of glory to the next (2 Cor. 3:18). This is a matter of faith, not sight. I am no longer a young man. To look at me is not to look at a glorious being. Paul knew the truth of the paradox and the Christian’s need for encouragement. He wrote to the Corinthians: “So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self [lit. “the outward humanity”] is wasting away, our inner self [lit. “our inward”] is being renewed day by day” (2 Cor. 4:16–18). However, Paul lived in the light of eternity, and so he went on to write: “For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal” (2 Cor. 4:17–18).

Becket Cook, a Hollywood set designer, experienced a dramatic conversion from gay atheist to devout follower of Christ. He still wrestles with same-sex attraction, but for him the prospect of an eternal weight of glory more than compensates for the desires rightly left unfulfilled. He writes: “These verses [2 Cor. 4:17–18] are always a salve to the soul when I struggle with temptation. (Yes, I still do!) . . . It is hard to fathom the eternal weight of glory, but I know it is infinitely more gratifying than any ephemeral pleasure on this earth.”³

The second paradox is that even though we can be transformed from one degree of glory to the next, we may also experience great suffering at the very same time. In fact, the path to glory is Christomorphic—that is to say, Christ-shaped. Christ suffered as the Son of Man before entering his glory, and he warned his disciples that suffering would be their experience too. In the upper room, he spoke plainly: “Remember the word that I said to you: ‘A servant is not greater than his master.’ If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you. If they kept my word, they will also keep yours” (John 15:20). The apostle Peter understood his Master’s point: “And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you” (1 Pet. 5:10).

The prime example of a believer treading that path is the apostle Paul, and out of all his letters, his second letter to the Corinthians is most revelatory of the personal cost he experienced in following Christ. It is striking that Paul despaired of life itself, such was his depression at one juncture. He wrote:

“For we do not want you to be unaware, brothers, of the affliction we experienced in Asia. For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death” (2 Cor. 1:8–9). Even so, as a man of faith, he understood the lesson of such an experience: “But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead” (2 Cor. 1:9). Later in the same letter, Paul gives a more granular delineation of what his apostolic sufferings entailed. His aim is to undermine the claim of some who were troubling the Corinthians, teachers who were asserting their superiority over Paul.

But whatever anyone else dares to boast of—I am speaking as a fool—I also dare to boast of that. Are they Hebrews? So am I. Are they Israelites? So am I. Are they offspring of Abraham? So am I. Are they servants of Christ? I am a better one—I am talking like a madman—with far greater labors, far more imprisonments, with countless beatings, and often near death. Five times I received at the hands of the Jews the forty lashes less one. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I was stoned. Three times I was shipwrecked; a night and a day I was adrift at sea; on frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, danger from robbers, danger from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brothers; in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, in hunger and thirst, often without food, in cold and exposure. And, apart from other things, there is the daily pressure on me of my anxiety for all the churches. (2 Cor. 11:21–28)

And yet, as we have seen, he could also write in the same letter:

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. (2 Cor. 4:16–18)

Given this second paradox, there is no place for Pollyannaism in serious discipleship.⁴ Prosperity-gospel teaching looks a lot like Pollyannaism. I recall being told that the King’s kids travel first class. Really? John the Baptist was imprisoned and subsequently beheaded (Mark 6:14–29), Jesus died on a cross in a shockingly cruel form of execution (Mark 15:21–39), and Paul wrote of his extreme suffering as an apostle (2 Cor. 12:1–10). And yet, Jesus endured the cross in the light of the joy that lay beyond it (Heb. 12:2). There is an eternal weight of glory ahead, but “ahead” is the key idea. To expect more than the Bible promises is to fall into over-realized eschatology, as though we are in heaven now, which clearly we are not.

The prospect of glory does not leave the believer indolent about the present.

Prospect, Process, and Service

The prospect of glory does not leave the believer indolent about the present. Marx was wrong about a robust biblical faith. However, he may have been right about the kind of cultural Christianity he witnessed around him. We are a people in process, as we have seen in Paul’s second Corinthian letter. Paul again points the way on this question. In Colossians 3:1–4 he argues:

If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.

Paul places the heavenly reality squarely in front of the Colossians, and the verbs “seek” (Col. 3:1) and “set” (Col. 3:2) are significant. His rationale lies in our union with Christ, for we have died with him in some sense and now live in him (Col. 3:3). The prospect of glory with Christ is the consequent promise (Col. 3:4). All this might suggest that Marx was right.

However, Paul continues the argument with a clothing metaphor. In so doing, he shows that to seek the things above and to set one’s mind on things above have consequences for this life. Douglas Moo is right to comment, “Believers ‘seek the things above’ by deliberately and daily committing ourselves to the values of the heavenly kingdom and living out of those values.”⁵ But how exactly is this to be done? The old self is to be put off like a garment with its sinful practices (Col. 3:9). Paul gives quite a list of vices (Col. 3:5–9): sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, covetousness, anger, wrath, malice, slander, and obscene talk. Positively, the Colossians are to put on a new garment of godly virtues (Col. 3:12–14): compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, patience, and, above all, love. Importantly, Paul argues that this putting off and putting on flows from the heavenly dimension and prospect. The key word is “therefore,” found in Colossians 3:5: “Put to death therefore [Greek, oun] what is earthly in you.” The word is used again when Paul turns to the godly virtues in Colossians 3:12: “Put on then [Greek, oun], as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience.” This shows that in Paul’s mind there is a logical connection between Colossians 3:1–4 and what follows.

The prospect of glory is no opiate. Marx was wrong.

This article is adapted from Glorification: An Introduction by Graham A. Cole.

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