Jason L. Bradfield has written an excellent article in defense of the resurrection of the body. It is entitled, “Our Lowly Bodies Will Rise – Philippians 3:21 Against Hyper-Preterism” and can be found here. He writes:
In Philippians 3:20–21, the Apostle Paul directs the believer’s gaze not toward personal death nor ecclesiastical transition, but toward the eschatological return of Christ. The resurrection he anticipates is explicitly bodily—a transformation whereby our present, lowly condition is conformed to the glorified humanity of the risen Lord. This is not a vague metaphor or corporate abstraction; it is the definitive hope of the believer:
But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.
Hyper-preterists, particularly those influenced by the writings of Max King, seek to subvert this reading by proposing a metaphorical and corporate interpretation. According to this view, the plural pronoun “our” paired with the singular noun “body” signifies not individual resurrection, but a covenantal, symbolic resurrection of the church that finished at the destruction of Jerusalem in AD 70. Gary DeMar and Kim Burgess give voice to this interpretation:
This transition in the two covenantal administrations picks up the idea of the corporate “change” or “transformation” that Paul speaks about in 1 Corinthians 15:51-52 and Philippians 3:21. First Corinthians 15 is far, far richer than merely being a long and fancy prooftext for the resurrection of individual human bodies some day. First Corinthians 15, when seen in its proper light as Paul intended it, is his quintessential Biblical-theological (redemptive-historical andcovenantal) chapter on covenant hermeneutics, and we will return to this topic later on in this volume. A corporate covenantal “change”was necessitated if the promised New Covenant Kingdom of God was to be inherited. Earlier in this volume, we looked in some detail at Romans 8:23 and Philippians 3:21 about the “redemption” and the “transformation” of this corporate covenantal body [“our (plural)body (singular)”] as it would be redeemed and transformed “in conformity with Christ’s glorious body” which is the New Covenant Church as the corporate “body of Christ” (Eph. 1:22-23).1
Yet this corporate-only reading collapses when subjected to careful grammatical, contextual, and theological scrutiny.
Grammatically, the Greek text yields a clear and consistent meaning. Paul writes, ἡμῶν γὰρ τὸ πολίτευμα ἐν οὐρανοῖς ὑπάρχει ἐξ οὗ καὶ σωτῆρα ἀπεκδεχόμεθα κύριον Ἰησοῦν χριστόν—“But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.” This establishes not only the believer’s present identity as a citizen of the heavenly kingdom but also orients their hope toward a future event. The verb ἀπεκδεχόμεθα (“we eagerly await”) is a present-tense verb of continuous expectation, indicating a future, not yet realized fulfillment: the return of Christ.
What does the Savior do at His return? “He will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body.” The verb μετασχηματίσει is in the future active indicative—denoting a definite, forthcoming transformation. Paul’s focus is not on a symbolic reconstitution of covenant identity but on the future glorification of the believer’s physical body. The transformation is neither metaphorical nor ecclesiological; it is eschatological and bodily.
The phrase τὸ σῶμα τῆς ταπεινώσεως ἡμῶν—“our lowly body” or “the body of our humiliation”—is central to the discussion. Hyper-preterists contend that this refers to the collective body of the covenant community under the Old Covenant, oppressed under the weight of the Mosaic system and awaiting ecclesial renewal. They claim the “glorious body” is likewise metaphorical, referring to the church reconstituted in the New Covenant. But this reading is internally incoherent. If both “our body” and “his glorious body” are metaphors for the church, then Paul’s statement becomes circular: the church is transformed into what it already is. Such a tautology renders Paul’s statement meaningless.
Instead, the apostle draws a deliberate and theologically rich contrast between the believer’s present bodily condition—marked by weakness, mortality, and humiliation—and the glorified body of Christ, who was raised from the dead in power and incorruption. The grammar reinforces this point: Paul uses the singular σῶμα to denote the physicality of what is to be transformed, not an abstract corporate reality. This interpretation is in harmony with Paul’s broader eschatology. In 1 Corinthians 6:14, he writes, “God raised the Lord and will also raise us up by his power.” Likewise, in 1 Corinthians 15:20–23, he presents Christ as the “firstfruits” of the resurrection, thereby establishing the pattern and guarantee of the believer’s future resurrection. In verse 49 of the same chapter, he declares, “Just as we have borne the image of the man of dust, we shall also bear the image of the man of heaven.” The parallel is unmistakable: Christ’s bodily resurrection is the model for our own. Nowhere does Paul equate this hope with a metaphorical, covenantal shift.
The hyper-preterist argument also rests upon a flawed grammatical inference. They argue that the combination of a plural possessive pronoun with a singular noun—“our body”—must denote a singular, corporate body. But this is a basic misunderstanding of distributive syntax. In both Greek and English, it is common for a plural possessive to modify a singular noun in a distributive sense, referring to individual members of a group. The context determines whether the construction is collective or distributive.
This pattern is evident in passages like Matthew 10:30, where the Greek reads: ὑμῶν δὲ καὶ αἱ τρίχες τῆς κεφαλῆς—“the hairs of your (plural) head (singular).” Clearly, Jesus is not suggesting the disciples shared a literal head. The grammar distributes the singular noun among the plural subjects. Similarly, in John 14:1, Jesus says, “Let not your hearts be troubled.” The Greek—ὑμῶν ἡ καρδία—again combines a plural possessive with a singular noun. The singular “heart” is not a collective organ shared by all disciples but refers to each one’s personal, inner life. The same grammatical construction appears in Philippians 3:21 and must be read distributively: each believer awaits the transformation of his or her own body.
Moreover, the broader literary context of Philippians 3 dismantles the hyper-preterist framework. While advocates of “covenantal” readings appeal to verses 2–11 to support their thesis, Paul’s argument moves in a markedly different direction. In verses 2–6, Paul warns the Philippians against those who promote circumcision and confidence in the flesh—Judaizers who had corrupted the true meaning of the covenant. Importantly, Paul is not rejecting the Old Covenant as such, but rather condemning the perversion of the covenant into a system of self-righteousness.
His personal testimony in verses 4–8 affirms this point. He recounts his former credentials—circumcised on the eighth day, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Pharisee, zealous, and blameless according to the law. Yet he counts all of it as “loss” and even “rubbish” for the sake of knowing Christ. He is not repudiating the covenantal structure of redemptive history, but exposing the bankruptcy of seeking righteousness through external privilege or ritual observance.
The redirection of his hope is not toward a redefined ecclesiology, but toward a bodily resurrection. In verses 10–11, he speaks of knowing Christ, the power of His resurrection, and sharing in His sufferings in order to “attain the resurrection from the dead.” This resurrection is not realized in AD 70 or in symbolic ecclesial renewal. It is future, personal, and physical. The progression of Paul’s thought is unmistakable: the contrast is not covenantal but eschatological.
This trajectory continues in verses 17–21, where Paul urges the Philippians to follow his example and to take note of those who live in accordance with the pattern he has set. He then draws a sharp moral and eschatological contrast between those who “set their minds on earthly things” and those whose citizenship is in heaven. The former, whom Paul calls “enemies of the cross,” are driven by fleshly appetites and boast in what ought to bring shame; the latter live in eager expectation of their Savior’s return. This contrast is not between two administrations of the covenant of grace but between those who live according to the flesh and those who live by faith in Christ. Paul’s earlier critique of the Judaizers (vv. 2–6) finds a striking parallel here: whether through a legalistic distortion of the Old Covenant or a worldly religiosity unmoored from it, both forms of error rest on confidence in the flesh. Both seek righteousness or identity through human credentials rather than through union with Christ.
Against both distortions, Paul reorients the believer’s hope to the return of the Savior from heaven—an event not of metaphor but of power. He will “transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body,” and this promise is grounded in nothing less than the cosmic authority of Christ Himself, according to “the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.” Hyper-preterists object, “Oh, but the change did come in its fullness – it’s metaphorical and applies only to believers.” Oh really? That hardly aligns with the claim that “he left nothing outside his control” (Heb. 2:8). Paul declares the opposite: the transformation is as real and physical as Christ’s own glorified body, and the subjection of all things is both universal in scope and future in fulfillment.
All things are not yet subjected to Christ. All things do not as yet obey the authority of Christ. As Hebrews 2:8 declares, “At present, we do not yet see everything in subjection to him.” Death remains, the curse endures, and people continue to die and decay. Hyper-preterists are thus forced into a theological contradiction: they claim that all things were subjected in AD 70, yet the observable world testifies otherwise. Death—the last enemy—has not been destroyed (1 Cor. 15:26). No graves have been opened, no bodies raised, no transformation occurred. If the resurrection has already happened, one must ask: where are the transformed bodies? Where is the consummation of Christ’s reign?
Beyond exegetical failure, the pastoral implications of the hyper-preterist view are devastating. If their interpretation is correct, there is no future resurrection to await—no bodily hope, no transformation, no vindication at Christ’s return. The believer is left with a hollow metaphor in place of a blessed hope. Christ’s resurrected body becomes theologically irrelevant. Paul’s eschatological promises dissolve into poetic language devoid of fulfillment. Such a view not only misrepresents the text—it robs the believer of the very hope the gospel proclaims.
In contrast, the Reformed and apostolic witness holds firm to the promise of bodily resurrection. Passages such as Philippians 3:20–21, Romans 8:11, and 1 Corinthians 15 offer a consistent eschatological vision: Christ, the risen Lord, will return in glory to raise His people bodily, conforming them to His image. This is no metaphor. It is the telos of redemptive history, the climax of Christian hope, and the promise that sustains us in the face of death. We are not waiting for a covenantal shift. We are waiting for the Lord from heaven—who will transform our lowly bodies to be like His glorious body. That is the resurrection hope. And it is the hope hyper-preterism forfeits.
1 Kim Burgess and Gary DeMar, The Hope of Israel and the Nations: New Testament Eschatology Accomplished and Applied, Vol. 2 (Powder Springs, GA: American Vision, 2024), p. 334