This morning is the Gospel
reading where Thomas gets his nickname – the Doubter. It’s a shame, really. He
starts being identified as, “Thomas, one of the twelve, called the Twin” – the
NIV calls him Thomas Didymus - but no
one ever calls him either. We call him Doubting
Thomas. I don’t think it’s fair to him. After all, we don’t call Peter the
Denier because he said he didn’t know Jesus. We don’t call Paul the Persecutor
because, before his conversion, he tracked down and killed Christians. But Thomas…he
got saddled with the nickname Doubter and it has stuck. Forevermore, he will be
known as Doubting Thomas.
Can you fathom Thomas’ sadness in
those days after Jesus’ resurrection? For Mary and Mary, Peter, James and John,
the Emmaus disciples the power of the resurrection is starting to be
understood. The truth of the Scriptures is beginning to unfold. Christ is
risen, He is risen indeed – alleluia! But for Thomas, it is as if Christ is not
risen. Christ is not living as He said. Jesus was, at best, mistaken about that
third day talk; at worst, a liar who misled the disciples for three years.
Thomas had witnessed Jesus
raising Lazarus. But, it’s one thing for a living Jesus to stand outside
Lazarus’ grave and summon a dead man back to life; it’s entirely another matter
when Jesus is, Himself, the one who is dead and buried.
Thomas is no fool. “Unless I see in
his hands the mark of the nails and place my finger into the mark of the nails
and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.” Thomas had heard Jesus’
prophetic words about being crucified at the hands of the chief priests and
elders and teachers of the law, and had also heard Jesus say, “and on the third
day be raised.” It’s one thing to hear those words; it’s another to see
Jesus’ side pierced with the spear and blood and water flow out. Jesus was
dead. Thomas
cannot believe Jesus’ promise; he won’t believe it; No: dead people don’t come
back to life. It doesn’t work that way. He will not believe unless he sees it
with his own eyes.
I get that. And, I suspect that many
of you do as well.
We speak of Christian faith in two
ways. The first is faith that Jesus is my Savior and that He died, rose,
ascended and now waits until I see Him in the resurrection. This is faith that
believes that promise made to us in our Baptisms. I trust I am forgiven, I
believe that I am God's child through Jesus' death and resurrection, and all of
His gifts are mine. I know, believe, trust and rely that this is "most
certainly true." This is "saving faith."
Then, there is how we live out
that saving faith. We call this the sanctified life or the life of faithfulness.
This is faithfulness that enables the Christian to pray "give us this day
our daily bread," and to be content with enough. This is faithfulness that
enables us to look in the mirror and say, “You are already holy and sanctified
in the eyes of God.” This is faithfulness that, in the face of a critical
medical diagnosis, says, “I believe God will heal me now, or into eternity.” Faithfulness
is able to say, without irony, “Thy will be done,” followed by "amen,
amen...may it be so." Faithfulness allows the Christian to stand at the
grave of a loved one and declare, “I believe in the resurrection and the life
of the world to come.”
But that sanctified life of faithfulness is tough, isn’t it? To say – and mean - “Thy will be done” in the face of financial struggles, or health scares, or strained family life, or unemployment – that’s not so easy. It is in this aspect of faith, the daily living of faith, where I struggle – some days, struggling mightily. I understand because I, too, am a Doubting Thomas. I say that with no pride...trust me.
But that sanctified life of faithfulness is tough, isn’t it? To say – and mean - “Thy will be done” in the face of financial struggles, or health scares, or strained family life, or unemployment – that’s not so easy. It is in this aspect of faith, the daily living of faith, where I struggle – some days, struggling mightily. I understand because I, too, am a Doubting Thomas. I say that with no pride...trust me.
What is it that drives your
faithfulness into fear? We pray “Give us
this day our daily bread,” but in reality we want to pray "Give me this
day my daily filet mignon and deliver me from any trouble that might disturb my
otherwise peaceful day." We say, “God is so good,” when our prayers are
answered the way we wish, but when the Lord answers in other ways, we doubt God’s
love for us. We are thankful when our bank account sits fat and thick and our
retirement accounts look strong, but when those numbers drop, we cry to the
heavens. And with these tests coming at
us every day, faithfulness gets crowded out sometimes.
And the danger here is that this
aspect of faithfulness impacts our faith in God’s grace for us in Christ. The
devil’s no fool – he knows that we are savvy enough that if he were to say to
us, “God doesn’t love you,” we would tell him to hit the road. So, he nibbles
at the edges – anything to get us to look at ourselves and away from Jesus. He tempts
us doubt our worthiness in God’s eyes. He tempts us to think we are unworthy
because we don’t have as strong of faith as someone else. He tempts us to think
we are failures at Christianity. And when these temptations start to clang in
our ears over and over and over, they start to sound as if they ring true. And,
like Thomas, we start to alienate ourselves from the other disciples that
gather together to form the church. The last temptation, then, is for the
Christian, alone and left with his doubts and fears, to teeter on the edge of
saying, “And if all of this is true, then the power of the resurrection isn’t
enough…not for me at least.”
So, when this Gospel text comes
to the forefront every year in the Sunday after Easter, it gives me a moment to
stop, pause, and rejoice because Jesus doesn’t leave Doubting Thomas or
Doubting Jon, or Doubting [insert your name here] alone with doubt. Jesus
rescues and redeems Thomas from a life of doubt to a life of faithfulness.
It’s a week after Easter. The
scene from Easter night is repeated: upper room, doors locked, disciples
gathered with Thomas present, this time. Again, Jesus appears; again, He
declares, “Peace be with you.”
Do you understand the power of
those four words? We talk about peace; we wish for peace; sometimes we even try
to make peace. Peace, at least earthly peace, is fleeting and nebulous. Ask
parents with teenagers, or a married couple leaving the counselor’s office, or
any patient who walks out of the doctor’s office with the words, “Let’s see
what the tests say, first…” still ringing in the ears. Industry and agriculture
waits with baited breath as a bloodless war of trade seems inevitable with
China. The wars of Iraq and Afghanistan
are 16 years old. Peace: it seems more like a punchline than a reality.
So, when Jesus speaks of peace,
it should make us take notice. “Peace be with you.” Jesus’ peace is different. His
peace, promised of on Maundy Thursday, is completed at the cross. Now, His
peace is restorative, reuniting the relationship between God and man which was
chewed apart in the Garden of Eden. His peace brings harmony and unity. His
peace causes the eternal warfare to end. His peace sooths the troubled heart,
calms the worried head, silences fears that run wild. His peace rejuvenates
faith where it has grown weary.
So there is no doubt for Thomas,
Jesus invites Thomas to touch his hands and place his hand into Jesus side –
those were Thomas’ requirements, remember, that unless that could happen he
wouldn’t believe. And with words that are both command and invitation, Jesus
says, “Stop being unbelieving and be believing.”
Jesus’ peace overcomes Thomas’
doubts. Seeing Jesus is enough. He
doesn’t need to touch Jesus’ body or feel the marks and wounds. Jesus’ peace,
the same peace that restored the relationship between God and man, now restores
Thomas’ faith. Everything Jesus said about His death and resurrection is true.
“My Lord and my God,” Thomas declares as both faithfulness and faith are
restored.
The final words of Jesus serve as
a dramatic postlude to the Easter narrative, “Blessed are those who have not
seen and yet have believed.” We know about Peter and John and Paul as they
carry the Gospel from Israel to what is today modern southern Europe. What you
probably don’t know is that tradition says that from this point forward, Thomas
became the first missionary to what is today Turkey, Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan,
Pakistan and eventually winding up in northern India. There, Thomas is
celebrated much the same way we celebrate Martin Luther. This is remarkable
that a man, who once said he would not believe unless he could see and touch,
carried the Gospel to people who could only see with eyes of faith.
You are part of these whom Jesus
calls “Blessed,” for you have not yet seen Jesus with your eyes. With Spirit-given
faith, you believe the promises of God are fulfilled in this man, named Jesus,
who died for you and rose for your eternal salvation. With Spirit-enlivened
faithfulness, you live out that life of faith every day in your actions and
interactions with others. And, on those days when your faithfulness is shaken,
and your faith is weak, Jesus comes to you and says, “Peace.” A remarkable
gift, His peace, for it doesn’t change or grow weary. His peace is delivered to
you without hesitation or reservation. Stop being unbelieving and be believing.
Earned for you at His cross, delivered to you in your baptism, His peace knows
no boundaries or limits.
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