God bless Doubting Thomas! (John 20.19-31) [sermon 4-8-18]

Manuscript of my sermon for Sunday, April 8, 2018. This begins a new series, Spreading the Word, which will run through Pentecost (May 20). These sermons will focus on select texts from John, Acts, and Philippians.

The text this week is John 20.19-31.

Resources I’m using for this series include:

Stephen E. Fowl. Philippians. Two Horizons New Testament Commentary, ed. Joel B. Green and Max Turner. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005.

Jacob Jervell. The Theology of the Acts of the Apostles. New Testament Theology, ed. James D. G. Dunn. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996.

Craig Keener. Acts: An Exegetical Commentary. 4 vols. Grand Rapids: Baker, 2012-2015.

Karoline M. Lewis. John. Fortress Biblical Preaching Commentaries. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2014.

James W. Thompson and Bruce W. Longenecker. Philippians and Philemon. Paideia Commentaries on the New Testament. Grand Rapids: Baker, 2016.

Ben Witherington, III. The Acts of the Apostles: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998.

An audio link is embedded below for those who’d like to listen:

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We’re beginning a new series today called Spreading the Word. We’ll be talking about and thinking about some passages from the New Testament that show how the early church shared the gospel. The very good news that Jesus Christ, who had been crucified, has been raised from the dead, and is now ruling over heaven and earth. And we’ll be learning some lessons from the earliest Christians about how we can spread the word today—in our own place and time. How we can tell, live out, and live in this very good news that God is making everything right again through King Jesus.

I am Doubting Thomas

Today in our readings we heard a story from the Gospel of John. The famous story of Doubting Thomas. That probably seems like a strange place to begin a series on spreading the word. Because Thomas did not go right out and start spreading the good news that Jesus is risen and alive. In fact, Thomas refused to believe this at first. Which is why he is called Doubting Thomas.

But I believe this is an excellent place to begin our series. After all, we live in a world of doubters and skeptics, when it comes to Jesus. But that’s not even why I want to start here.

I want to begin here because we Christians need to always begin by proclaiming the good news to ourselves. And to each other, and with each other, and for each other.

Remember, Thomas was one of the Twelve Apostles. He wasn’t a skeptical outsider. He was more like a church member.

And the church will always have its Doubting Thomases.

I know, because I’m one of them.

That’s right. Out of that batch of original disciples, I identify most closely with Thomas. Because I wrestle with a lot of doubts a lot of the time. And sometimes those doubts can fester into skepticism.

In part, I think that’s just how the good Lord designed me. God gave me a curious personality. God made me a person who asks a lot of Big Questions.

So all my life I’ve been asking Big Questions

about God,

and how God works;

and our universe, and how it works.

And how do faith and science intersect?

And what’s my place in the universe?

And how prayer works (or doesn’t work).

And why bad things happen to good people.

Why do children suffer?

Why do the wicked prosper?

Which leads to questions about the moral universe—

does it really bend towards justice,

like Martin Luther King said;

or do we have to help bend it towards justice?

And the Bible—

How should we understand it?

How should we interpret it?

What are the consequences when we get it wrong?

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I’m always asking very Big Questions.

And if I’m curious by nature, I’m also incredibly cautious by nurture.

Because I’ve been hurt by bad answers to Big Questions.

I’ve trusted people and ideas and had my trust violated.

I’ve been lied to and betrayed and blindsided.

I’ve hoped for things that I needed to be true, and watched my hopes fall to the ground and shatter like glass. And cut me as I tried to pick up the shards.

I’ve dreamed big dreams, and seen those dreams dissolve into a puddle of tears.

I’ve built more than one house of cards, only to have them obliterated by a sneeze.

And I think it’s that particular combination —

when you’re curious by nature,

but cautious by nurture,

because you’ve been hurt

chasing your curiosity—

that makes a person a Doubting Thomas.

So I can see myself so clearly in Thomas’ story. I probably would have been slow to believe, too. And not even because I didn’t want to believe.   But because I’d be so afraid of trusting the wrong person. Or believing the wrong thing. And being let down. Again.

Doubting Thomases, True Believers, and everyone in between

Maybe you’re here today, and you’re a lot like Thomas, too. You can see yourself in his story. You’ve got that blend of cautious curiosity. You wrestle with the Big Questions. And you’re slow to believe. Not because you don’t want to believe. But because you’ve been badly hurt by believing the wrong people and the wrong ideas. So you need to see it for yourself before you believe.

Or maybe you’re here, and you’re a True Believer. And you don’t get Doubting Thomas. And you don’t get the Doubting Thomases you sometimes meet in church. Maybe you think their doubts are a sign of weak faith. Or even worse, they’re sinning because they’re questioning God. Maybe you’d never say it out loud, but you sometimes wonder if Thomas wasn’t almost as bad as Judas. Because by his doubts, Thomas betrayed Jesus all over again.

Wherever you’re at right now—whether you’re a Doubting Thomas, a True Believer, or somewhere in between—our story today has so much to teach you. My hope and prayer is that if you’re a Doubting Thomas, this lesson will grow your faith. And also help you see how valuable you are to Jesus, and to the church. And for everyone else—my hope and prayer is that learning Thomas’ story better will stretch you. And help you see the value of the Doubting Thomases among us.

The faith of doubting Thomas

So let’s pick up Thomas’ story, beginning at John 20.24: Thomas, the one called Didymus, one of the Twelve, wasn’t with the disciples when Jesus came. The risen Jesus had visited the other disciples on Easter night. But Thomas wasn’t present.

And I totally get that. I wouldn’t have been there either. When Jesus died, honestly—I would have felt betrayed by him. Left behind. I’m sure that’s how Thomas felt.

So we don’t know exactly where Thomas was, but if he’s anything like me—and like I’ve been saying, I think he was—Thomas was probably sitting alone somewhere feeling very numb. Staring at the ruins of his life. He’d left everything behind to follow Jesus, and he’d be regretting it. He was probably just wondering how he’d put his life back together again.

Moving into v25, we hear that the other disciples told him, “We’ve seen the Lord!” Okay, church—here’s a lesson. The other disciples didn’t just write Thomas off. They didn’t say, Well, you know—Thomas wasn’t one of the core members of our group. Is he really that important?

They went out and looked for Thomas. And when they found him, they told him the good news. Everything was going to be okay! Jesus was alive, and they’d seen him.

But Thomas replied, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands, put my finger in the wounds left by the nails, and put my hand into his side, I won’t believe.”

I can think of plenty of reasons why Thomas would say that.

Sometimes those of us who are wired like Thomas—with that dangerous blend of curiosity and caution—when we’ve experienced enough trauma and disillusionment; we will move from doubt to skepticism and eventually into downright cynicism.

Thomas had probably gotten into that headspace. I believe most people end up there sometimes. Some of us probably go there more than we’d ever admit.

But listen to what happens beginning in v26. After eight days his disciples were again in a house and Thomas was with them.

So this time Thomas was with them. Think about that. We call this man Doubting Thomas. We judge his lack of faith. But this guy waited for a whole week for Jesus to show up, even though he said he didn’t really believe that Jesus would show up.

So don’t tell me that Thomas didn’t have faith! He couldn’t believe Jesus was alive again. But he waited with the others to see him, anyway.

He let his curiosity get the best of his caution. So Thomas wasn’t just faithful. He was very brave, too.

And then it says: Even though the doors were locked, Jesus entered and stood among them. He said, “Peace be with you.” If you look back at v19, the beginning of our story today, you’ll see this is exactly what Jesus did for the other disciples. They were hiding behind locked doors. Jesus still found a way inside, and spoke a word of peace to them. Basically he was telling them not to be afraid.

So Thomas got the same experience the rest of the disciples did.

Then Jesus said to Thomas, “Put your finger here. Look at my hands. Put your hand into my side.” This is what Thomas said he needed to do to believe. He needed to examine Jesus’ wounds for himself. To trace them with his fingers. To touch them. And so Jesus was ready to give Thomas whatever experience he needed to overcome his doubts.

I bet Jesus is still that cool. What do you think?

Jesus also told Thomas: “No more disbelief. Believe!”

In John’s Gospel, belief isn’t just something you do with your mind. It doesn’t mean you just accept a bunch of facts. Have you ever had a parent, a spouse, or a friend tell you, I believe in you? What they mean is they love you. And they know you love them. And they have confidence in you, because of the relationship. In John’s Gospel, that’s what it means to believe in Jesus. It’s about loving Jesus and trusting Jesus.

So here’s some good news for my fellow Doubting Thomases: You don’t have to have any of the other Big Questions figured out. The only thing you have to be certain about is that you love Jesus, and Jesus loves you.

Thomas said he wouldn’t believe Jesus was actually alive again until he saw him, and touched his wounds with his own hands. So what did Thomas do when Jesus actually offered wounded his hands and side for Thomas to touch?

Thomas responded to Jesus, “My Lord and my God!”

Notice what we’re not told happened. We’re never told he actually touched Jesus’ wounds. Maybe it was enough for Thomas that Jesus was willing to do whatever Thomas needed to believe.

Of course, we’re also not told that Thomas didn’t touch Jesus’ wounds. Maybe he did. I kind of like to think John left it open on purpose. So we’d know that different people come to faith in different ways. And Jesus is open to adapt to our needs. And the church should also be open to what people need.

Some people can grasp Jesus in their hearts, without having to see anything. Some people need to see something. And some people actually need a hands-on experience—something that they can touch and feel and hold onto. Just like we all learn differently. We all fall in love differently. We also all come to faith differently.

Finally, Jesus told Thomas: “Do you believe because you see me? Happy are those who don’t see and yet believe.”

A lot of people hear this and think Jesus is fussing at Thomas. Like Jesus was saying, Man, Thomas—I really had to pull out all the stops to make you believe! But God blesses those who can believe without any evidence! But that’s not what Jesus was saying.

Jesus was thinking of all the future generations of Christians when he said this. He was thinking about you and me. And giving us a blessing because we believe in him. Even though we didn’t see him working miraculous signs. We didn’t see him walking around after the resurrection. But we still believe.

He wasn’t scolding Thomas. He was blessing us.

A challenge for Doubting Thomases, and a challenge for all of us

So, I usually send you home with one thing to think about, or to do, or to try, based on whatever scripture we’ve been thinking about and talking about. But today, I’m going to be bold and give you two applications. 

One is specifically for my fellow Doubting Thomases. The other is for everyone here—the Doubting Thomases, the True Believers, and everyone in between.

Here’s my challenge to my Doubting Thomases: Be skeptical enough to doubt your doubts. I know you have a wonderful, vulnerable, and sometimes volatile mix of curiosity and caution. So be cautious not to be consumed by your doubts. And be curious in the direction of your doubts. Maybe there are some things you doubt because you haven’t found satisfactory answers to your Big Questions yet. Don’t be afraid to talk honestly about your doubts. Keep asking the Big Questions. But don’t ever doubt Jesus’ passionate love for you.

Now, here’s something I want everyone to understand. Remember that Jesus handpicked Thomas to be his disciple. And Jesus knew Thomas was prone to wonder, to question, and to doubt when he chose him. And I believe Jesus still chooses Doubting Thomases. And they’re as valuable as anyone else in the church.

In fact, I’ll come right out and say our Doubting Thomases are a real asset. Because they keep us honest. They challenge us to stretch our thinking. Because they’re the ones who ask the Big Questions. They’re not going to let us be superficial. They’re not going to settle for easy answers or cheap grace.They’re the ones who can smell baloney from a mile away.

If our church family was Winnie the Pooh, our Doubting Thomases would be our Eeyore. If our church family was The Chronicles of Narnia, they’d be our Puddleglum. They keep us grounded. They give us our reality checks. And they can also be some of the most loyal, trustworthy, and truthful people you will ever know. We need them.

So Doubting Thomases, never doubt that the church needs you. And to my True Believers and everyone else, here’s my challenge to you: Don’t abandon our Doubting Thomases. Learn from what the other disciples did for Thomas in our story today, during his time of doubt: Embrace them. Encourage them. Do life with them. And walk with them.

And Doubting Thomases—I’ve just been talking you up all morning. So stay with us. Keep us uncomfortable when we need to be uncomfortable. Keep challenging us not to leave our brains outside the church house doors. But let us embrace you. Let us love you just the way you are. And keep doing life with us.

Taking Doubting Thomases seriously

Sisters and brothers, spreading the word starts here. With us. For us. And among us. Before we can tell the world, we have to tell ourselves and each other the good news that Jesus is alive, that he’s reigning over the universe, and that he’s making all things new. We need to abide in that good news. And live out that good news. With each other, and for each other.

You know, when Jesus showed Thomas his wounds, he was really showing him how much he loved him. Thomas believed when he saw Jesus taking his doubts seriously. When he saw Jesus be vulnerable to his needs. Jesus loved him through his doubts, and loved him into belief. As you go forth from here, may you be vulnerable for the Doubting Thomases you meet in the church and in the world. Perhaps they’ll catch a glimpse of Jesus in your care for them.

Forgiven people forgiving people (John 20.19-31) [Sermon 04-03-2016, Easter 2c]

The manuscript for my sermon for Sunday, April 3rd, 2016. Second of Easter, year C.

The scriptures for this week are: Acts 5.27-32; Psalm 118.14-29; Revelation 1.4-8; John 20.19-31.

This week’s sermon shamelessly steals gratefully borrows from the following resources:

Scott Hoezee: Why Didn’t They Go Looking for Him?

Paul Nuechterlein & Friends: The Girardian Lectionary, Easter 2

Mark Davis: Breath, Touch, Sight and Faith at his marvelous blog, Left Behind and Loving It

And David Henson: Easter for Doubters: The Unexpected Faith of Doubting Thomas (one of my all-time favorite Easter reflections)

And a special word of gratitude to Jenee Woodard for her diligence with curating The Text This Week, for making such spectacular resources available to humble preacher folk like myself.

Disclaimer: If you find this sermon bland; stupid; confusing; wrong-headed; heretical; too conservative; too progressive; or just too long; blame me, not any of the hard-working people I named above.

An audio link is embedded below for those who would rather listen. I’m always open to feedback on my delivery, as well.

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Behind closed doors

It was still the first day of the week. That evening . . . the disciples were behind closed doors because they were afraid of the Jewish authorities.

That’s how our Gospel lesson today began.

It picks right up where last week’s lesson left off. It’s Easter evening.

Last week, we heard the story of Easter morning. The story of the dawning of the new creation.

We fumbled in the darkness with Mary Magdalene. Toward the tomb. We gasped with her in shock, discovering the stone that sealed it shut removed.

We dashed with her to find Peter and the beloved disciple. We heard her breathlessly tell them what she had found.

The camera in our mind’s eye jumbled and jostled as it followed Peter and the other disciple’s race to the empty tomb. Perhaps some of us even got a twinge of motion sickness.

And we heard Jesus say Mary’s name. And we rejoiced with Mary as her mourning turned to laughter. Because it dawned on her that no one had busted into Jesus’ tomb; Jesus had busted out! And she leapt into the everlasting arms and clung so tightly that Jesus had to tell her to let go.

In all of that joyous commotion, we may have forgotten all about Peter and that other disciple. Remember, they weren’t there when Mary met Jesus. She had to go off and find them again, and tell them: I’ve seen the Lord!

Where had Peter and that other disciple gotten off to, anyway? John tells us that they had gone into the empty tomb—Peter first. But the other disciple close at his heels. And John also tells us that when the beloved disciple caught a glimpse of Jesus’ abandoned clothes, he saw and believed. But they didn’t stick around, Peter and the other guy. John says they returned to the place where they were staying.

And apparently, they didn’t move from that spot. Even when Mary told them she had seen the risen Jesus. They refused to come out.

I’d like to think I’d have gone out looking for him.

But they were still holed up in that undisclosed location Easter night. That’s where our Gospel lesson today picked up. The disciples huddled in their hideout, with the doors bolted shut.

John says they were behind closed doors because they were afraid of the Jewish authorities.

I don’t know if I buy that, myself. I’m not 100% convinced it was fear of the authorities that prompted them to barricade themselves in the panic room.

Far be it from me to suggest that brother John was fibbing. But sometimes a man has to save face. After all, if church tradition is anywhere near correct, the author of our Gospel was one of those scared men hiding behind those closed doors.

Afraid of who?

If Peter and the others were really so afraid of the authorities, why did they go running around Jesus’ tomb that morning? If the authorities were on the lookout for friends of Jesus, wouldn’t his tomb would be the first place they’d look?

After all, in Matthew’s Gospel, the Jewish authorities had Pilate post a security detail at the tomb. Otherwise, they said, his disciples may come and steal the body and tell the people, ‘He’s been raised from the dead.’

So they hadn’t been too afraid to run around in the open that morning. But that night, they were cooped up in some hideout, afraid. Afraid of what? The Jewish authorities! Yeah, that’s it!

And I’m sure that they all believed it when they told each other that.

You know what I think they we really afraid of?

I think they were afraid to see Jesus. Or afraid Jesus would see them.

Before Easter morning, the last we’d heard from Peter, he was denying that he even knew who Jesus was.

Peter, who had told Jesus earlier that evening: I’ll give up my life for you (John 13.37).

Peter, who according to Matthew’s Gospel, had talked so big: Even if I must die alongside you, I won’t deny you (Matt. 27.35).

And not just Peter. All the disciples said the same thing, says Matthew.

And Matthew also told us that when Jesus was hauled off by the authorities, all the disciples left Jesus and ran away (Matt. 27.56). Mark told the same story.

They’d all sold Jesus down the river. They’d all hightailed it out of town and left Jesus to die alone.

I bet they thought they’d never see him again. At this point, I’m not certain they wanted to. Would you?

I suspect that’s why, after Mary Magdalene told them she’d seen Jesus, they didn’t bother to go looking for him.

They were afraid they might just bump into him.

And I also suspect that—no matter what they told themselves, no matter what they told each other—when they boarded up the doors that night, it was actually Jesus they were hiding from.

Well, unlike Rev. 3.20, Jesus didn’t just stand at the door and knock. How he got in remains a mystery. John simply reports that Jesus came and stood among them. He’s not there, and then he is.

If I was one of those disciples, I’d be expecting Jesus to say something like this: You low-down, rotten, yeller-bellied scoundrels! You all said you’d go anywhere with me! Said you’d never turn your backs on me! And then every one of you did! To a man! You’re all fired! Get out of my sight, you unprofitable servants; you make me sick! Depart into the outer darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth!

And probably the reason I’d expect Jesus to say that is because it’s just what I’d say if my friends all sold me out. Pretended they didn’t know who I was. Left me to rot.

But that’s not what Jesus said. What he said was, Peace be with you.

Peace be with you, part 1

This is why Jesus is Jesus, and we are not. The whole point of Jesus is that his ways are not our ways. And he came to show us his ways—the Word became flesh and made his home among us—so that his ways could become our ways.

And the Jesus way was to show up among those shaky disciples. To work around the doors they just couldn’t bring themselves to unlock. And to say what they needed to hear the most: Peace be with you.

Those were words of forgiveness and reconciliation. Jesus doesn’t browbeat his disciples for being wrong. He doesn’t tell his disciples what they might deserve to hear. He tells them what they desperately need to hear. What he gives them is the experience of forgiveness. We only learn to forgive by being wrong, doing wrong; and then being forgiven. Just like you can’t learn to swim without getting wet, you can’t learn to forgive without being forgiven. Forgiveness is a learned skill.

So Jesus gives his disciples an assurance of forgiveness. Then he shows them the wounds of his crucifixion. In his hands and his side. John included this detail to prove Jesus wasn’t a ghost. There was a heresy brewing in those days that said flesh is bad, bodies are bad, the material world is bad. So Jesus must not have been flesh. And his resurrection couldn’t have been bodily. John wants us to know that Jesus was a man of flesh. He wants us to know that matter matters to God. That bodies matter to God. This is why we Christians feed the hungry and clothe the naked and house the homeless. It’s also why we have serious conversations about sexual morality. Because bodies matter to God. The whole person matters to God. That’s also why the church doesn’t preach the immortality of the soul. Our hope is a bodily resurrection. We believe that the whole person is being redeemed.

I suspect Jesus also showed the disciples his wounds to prepare them for what he was about to say next: Peace be with you—he said it again! As the Father sent me, so I am sending you. Not only were these shaky disciples not fired, Jesus is sending them out to continue his mission. Just as the Father sent Jesus into the world to make the Word flesh; so Jesus sends the church into the world so that his words may become flesh in our lives. The risen Jesus shows his wounds to remind them that God’s rescue of the world will be carried out by flesh-and-blood people who can be wounded. But the risen Jesus showing them his wounds means that God will be victorious. And that God’s people will share in that victory. Those who lose their lives doing God’s rescue work will gain them again. Jesus is living proof of that.

So Jesus empowers his disciples to continue the work God began in him. John says that he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” Then, according to John, Jesus told them something weird: “If you forgive anyone’s sins, they are forgiven; if you don’t forgive them, they aren’t forgiven.”

That’s one of most confusing things Jesus ever said, isn’t it? Did Jesus invest his disciples with the authority to say who gets forgiven and who doesn’t? Was he saying: Hey, you guys get to decide who goes to heaven, and who goes to hell? I don’t think so. Context is everything here. The risen Jesus has just forgiven them for so much. And he is sending them, as people who have been very wrong but who have been extravagantly forgiven, into the world to extend forgiveness.

If the disciples don’t go forth; if the church doesn’t go forth; if you and I don’t go forth with the message of forgiveness, the people of the world will never know they are forgiven. People spend all sorts of money these days on therapists—and I’m not knocking therapy—but we’re paying sometimes hundreds of dollars an hour to feel forgiven. For someone to tell us that we’re okay. Or at least that we’re going to be okay. The point that Jesus is making is that our guilt and shame and remorse and hangups don’t just resolve themselves. Somebody has to take the initiative, to reach out to us with acceptance and forgiveness. So Jesus says, I have forgiven you. Now you forgiven people get out there and start forgiving people. Because unless you tell them they’re forgiven, and show them they’re forgiven, they’re just stuck.

Stuck, like those disciples had been, behind locked doors. And I bet many of us have been stuck there, too. And maybe some of us still are. Telling ourselves we’re afraid of everything except the very thing we really are afraid of. What we are most afraid of is being confronted with what we have done, and what has been done to us. We are afraid we can’t tell the truth about ourselves and still go on. The wounded and risen Jesus confronted the disciples with the truth about themselves. When they saw the wounds from the nails and the spear, they could not deny that they had abandoned him to suffer alone. But Jesus—the Wounded One—forgave them. And it was his forgiveness that gave them the hope to carry on.

And there’s a snapshot of the church at work in the world: Forgiven people forgiving people.

Peace be with you, part 2

Now, Jesus had told the disciples to get out and start forgiving people. But according to our Gospel lesson today, eight days later, they were still right where Jesus had left them. Locked up in (I’m guessing) that same house.

Now I hear this, and my gut reaction is to judge them a little. Why aren’t you doing what Jesus told you to do? Go out and forgive somebody!

But then brother John tells me to slow down. There’s somebody else with them this time: brother Thomas.

John says that: Thomas, the one called Didymus—or, the Twin—one of the Twelve, wasn’t with the disciples when Jesus came. The other disciples told him, “We’ve seen the Lord!” But he replied, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands, put my finger in the wounds left by the nails, and put my hand into his side, I won’t believe.”

Now, the Greek behind this story suggests a couple of things that aren’t apparent in English translation. First, John said Thomas wasn’t with the disciples when Jesus came. The way that sentence is worded suggests that it wasn’t like Thomas stepped out for a smoke and just happened to miss Jesus. It’s more likely that he had left the group completely. He no longer considered himself a follower of Jesus. Second, when John says the other disciples told him, “We’ve seen the Lord!”; it wasn’t like Thomas came back from his smoke break and the others told him what happened. It’s more like there was an ongoing conversation. They kept trying to convince him over the eight day period that they had seen Jesus.

But only one thing will convince Thomas: Unless I see the nail marks in his hands, put my finger in the wounds left by the nails, and put my hand into his side, I won’t believe.

The only way for Thomas to know that Jesus is really okay; and that he comes in peace; and that Thomas is forgiven by the friend he left behind; is for Jesus to let him touch his wounds, and still say: Peace be with you.

And even though Thomas insists, I won’t believe!; still he waits with his friends behind the bolted-shut door for Jesus to come. He waits, in his unbelief, for his Lord’s return.

And how dare we reduce this man to Doubting Thomas! Until you’ve spent a long dark night of the soul, waiting on a God you don’t think you even believe in anymore, you have no idea how persistent, how determined, Thomas’ faith really was.

Thomas was enough of a doubter to doubt his own doubts.

And once more, the locked doors don’t stop Jesus. John says: Even though the doors were locked, Jesus entered and stood among them. He said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here. Look at my hands. Put your hand into my side. No more disbelief. Believe!”

And Thomas finally sees the resurrection. And all he can say is, My Lord and my God! What else is there to say?

And it all makes sense. Why they were still locked up in that house eight days later. They weren’t still shaky. They weren’t ignoring the work of forgiveness Jesus had given them. They were being obedient.

See, before they could go out and proclaim peace and forgiveness and reconciliation and healing to the world through the resurrection of Jesus, first they had to share this good news with their friend Thomas.

Jesus had always said he would go out looking for the one lost sheep. And that’s what the disciples were doing. They went and found their lost sheep. So that he could see the resurrection, too. So that he could believe that he was also forgiven. So that he could believe that the darkness hadn’t extinguished the light.

Church, the work of forgiveness and reconciliation and restoration always begins with the Thomases within our walls.

The Thomases among us

Jesus tells Thomas: Do you believe because you see me? Happy are those who don’t see and yet believe.

We have been trained, most of us, to hear this as at least a mild scolding. After all, none of us ever saw or touched the risen Jesus. And yet we believe.

I mean, how convenient for us is it that Jesus would put down Thomas’ seeing-is-believing faith, and bless our didn’t-see-but-still-believing faith? Did Jesus really say that so that a bunch of people 2,000 years later could feel superior?

Never forget, though, when John wrote his Gospel the situation was quite different. The church is moving into its second or third generation. Those who had seen, who had touched, were either already dead or quickly dying off. Eyewitnesses were becoming vanishingly rare. How would the church carry on in times of trouble or distress without those like Thomas who had seen and touched the risen Lord? That’s the context of John’s Gospel. The time had arrived in the life of the church when almost no one had actually seen Jesus.

And I would suspect that many of them wished that they could have.

And so John made sure that they knew that their faith was as good as the faith of those who had seen, who had touched, who had been personally forgiven by Jesus. He made sure to include a special blessing from Jesus for those believers: Happy are those who don’t see and yet believe.

Jesus wasn’t putting down Thomas’ belief. He was honoring the faith of those who don’t see, and believe anyway. You don’t have to put one down to lift the other up, you know.

The truth is, the church is still made up both kinds. The ones who can believe without seeing. And the ones who have to see to believe. Jesus honors both, and so should we.

Really, I believe that those who must see to believe—the Thomases—are a real blessing to the church. They keep us honest. Many of them have simply been blessed by God with the gift of discernment. Some have been hurt by the world, and their shame runs so deep that they have a difficult time believing that they can be forgiven, accepted, and welcomed just as they are by anyone—even Jesus. Then there are people who have been deeply wounded by others in the church. It’s nothing short of a miracle that they’re still with us. We should be grateful for the Thomases in our churches. The ones who still show up—even when their heads and hearts are full of doubts—and wait on the Lord with everyone else.

So they can’t see or touch the risen Jesus? They can see us, and touch us. We can show them the power of the resurrection at work among us. In our lives. In this church. In this city. We can make the words of Christ flesh.

In an unforgiving world, where too often it seems that the cross has the final word, we can be a forgiven people forgiving people.

Sometimes—for both the Thomases out there, and the ones in here—that’s enough.