When Doubt Creeps In

Background Passage: Luke 7:18-28; John 16:33; and I Corinthians 15:58

Being discouraged is a common human experience. If you’re not discouraged now about something happening in your life, you haven’t lived long enough, or you’re exceptionally blessed. Truthfully, in my experience, if you’re not discouraged now, just hang on. You will be at some point. Our faith gets tested time and time again by life’s challenging circumstances.

Discouragement feeds off of itself as it drives us to do or not do things that make our situation worse, spiraling into doubt and despair. In the end, we grow frustrated about what has happened or fearful of what might happen.

Noted Christian theologian and author C. S. Lewis wrote The Screwtape Letters in 1942. Screwtape, a upper management demon offers advice to his nephew, a novice demon looking to work his way up in the devil’s kingdom. Screwtape shares his wisdom in a series of letters that offer keen insight into the human condition.

In one such letter, Screwtape advises his nephew to sew fear and discouragement into the hearts of those who follow God, whom he called their Enemy. Screwtape writes, “We want him (the human) to be in the maximum uncertainty, so that his mind will be filled with contradictory pictures of the future, everyone one of which arouses hope or fear. There is nothing like suspense and anxiety for barricading a human’s mind against the Enemy. The Enemy wants men to be concerned with how they live. Our business is to keep them thinking about what will happen to them.”

If we enter our relationship with Christ expecting a trouble-free life, discouragement is a given. At some point, we will worry about what will happen to us. Jesus warns us that our time on earth will have “many trials and sorrows.” He doesn’t leave us there, however. He adds, “Take heart because I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33) Experiencing discouragement and doubt in troubled times is a natural response when answers don’t come quickly or when the answer is not what we expected or wanted.

You can read passage after passage in scripture about exceptional men and women of faith who grew discouraged at what life threw at them. This week I came across a passage in Luke that I’ve read but not considered deeply. In this passage, John the Baptist’s experience provides a fresh take on how we are to respond to doubts that creep in from time to time.

Can you imagine any time that John the Baptist, that fiery, locust-eating preacher and prophet, would be discouraged and filled with doubt? Here’s a guy about whom Jesus offered high praise. Talking to a crowd about John the Baptist, Jesus said,

“What did you go out into the wilderness to see? A reed swayed by the wind? If not, what did you go out to see? A man dressed in fine clothes? No, those who wear expensive clothe and indulge in luxury are in palaces. But what did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written: “I will send my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.” I tell you, among those born of women there is not one greater than John…” (Luke 7:24b-28)

To Jesus, John was rock solid, called by God to set the stage for the final act of God’s redemptive plan. Let’s think about John the Baptist. (To make it less cumbersome, I’ll just call him John from now on.)

Jesus and john were kinfolk. John was born to Zachariah and Elizabeth, Mary’s relative, just months before Jesus was born. It is John whom the spirit made jump for joy while still in his mother’s womb as Mary told Elizabeth about the things God told her about her own baby. He’s safe in the womb and John’s already “preparing the way of the Lord.”

Since they lived in different towns, I doubt that Jesus and John were everyday playmates as children, but I can certainly see them playing together as children when the families gathered. I can imagine John and Jesus having some interesting conversations about life and faith as they grew to be teenagers. I can certainly hear the deeper and more substantial theological conversations as they stood on the threshold of their respective ministries.

This is the same John to whom Jesus came when he felt the need to be baptized in the Jordan River. Hear John make this strong declaration about Jesus in the moment.

“Look! The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!…I have seen and I testify that this is God’s Chosen One.” (John 1:29,34)

It is John who stood waist deep in the Jordan with Jesus, hearing the voice of God declare,

“This is my Son, the one I love. I am very pleased with him.” (Matthew 3:16-17)

If anything could cement his faith and trust in Jesus, that should be it.

It was John whose strong preaching called for repentance, urging God’s people to turn back to him. It was John who told his disciples that Jesus must increase while he (John) must decrease. It was John who chastised the rich and powerful for ignoring God’s word. It was John who was unafraid to call sin a sin, even if it meant confronting Herod, the most powerful man in Judea.

Still, as solidly as John was grounded in his faith and belief, he had a moment of doubt and despair when his life took that unexpected twist.

After calling out Herod for committing adultery with his brother’s wife, the despot had enough. Herod arrested John, shackled him and tossed him into a small, dark cell, until the king’s new wife and step-daughter conspired to have John beheaded.

While languishing in prison, John heard from some of his disciples of Jesus’ growing popularity. They told him about Jesus healing the son of a Roman centurion and raising from the dead a widow’s only son. Here’s how Luke tells the story.

“John’s disciples told him about all these things. Calling two of them, he sent them to the Lord to ask, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?” When the men came to Jesus they said, “John the Baptist sent us to you to ask, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?”

“At that very time Jesus cured many who had disease, sickness and evil spirits, and gave sight to many who were blind. So he replied to the messengers, “Go back and report to John what you have seen and heard: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor. Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me.” (Luke 7:18-23)

Did you hear John’s question? “Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?” John earlier declared Jesus “God’s Chosen One.” He already testified that Jesus was the Messiah. What caused his apparent change of heart?

I think the reason for his question was personal. John had done the right thing…always. He had dotted all the i’s and crossed all the t’s just as God led him to do, but he still found himself in prison with no way out. John could no longer do what he felt called to do.

This prophet of God faced a death sentence because he proclaimed what he thought was God’s truth. He wanted and needed to know his suffering was worth it. In his mind, everything he did that brought him to this dark place seemed in vain. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Screwtape was whispering lies that led to discouragement, doubt and despair.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. He was supposed to see God’s kingdom restored. He sure didn’t expect to be locked away in prison while Jesus took what seemed to be a less aggressive and less controversial path.

John’s question is one I’ve asked many times when life took its unexpected and nasty twist or when I’ve been confused and confronted with the will of God that runs counter to my own desire. Is Jesus really the one? Is Jesus who I believed him to be? Do I really trust him with my life even in the middle of this mess I’m in?

When struggling with questions of life and faith, most of us don’t go to Jesus…at least not at first. We don’t go to the source of life. We like to wallow in our misery for a bit.

Yet, in his most troubled moment John, whether he knew it or not, teaches us a lesson about what to do when doubt creeps in. When his faith wavered, John did one thing right. In the middle of his despair, John took his doubts directly to Jesus.

John’s disciples posed the prophet’s question to Jesus. Jesus didn’t blink. He didn’t roll his eyes at John’s confusion. The scripture says, “At that very time Jesus cured many diseases, sicknesses and evil spirits…”

In other words, Jesus suggested, “Why don’t you guys just take a seat and watch for a while.” Then he went about doing what Jesus always did. He took care of the people he encountered. When he finished his work, he instructed those two disciples to go back and tell John what they had seen and heard.

That Jesus touched the lives of people was a clear message to John designed to reassure his downcast heart. The people to whom John had also preached were seeing God’s kingdom at work. More than that, however, the work Jesus did as those disciples watched matched specifically several Old Testament prophecies about the Messiah that John, in his wisdom, would know by heart.

When Jesus talked of making the blind see and the deaf hear, John could recall Isaiah 35:5. When Jesus spoke of sharing the good news to the poor, John would hear the echo of Isaiah 61:1. When Jesus talked about raising the dead, John could quote Isaiah 26:19. Each and every one prophesied about the coming Messiah.

You see, as John sat in the filth of that prison, he needed to be reminded of the servant Messiah’s true nature. Jesus loved and cared for the people and proclaimed the good news to them, building upon the repentance John preached. In all he did in that moment, coupled with the references to Old Testament prophecies, Jesus validated John’s good work of preparing the way for God’s anointed. Jesus was exactly who John thought he was. He did those things that John, in his heart, knew the Messiah was called to do.

In the prison of our discouragements, whatever they may be, we need to take our worries to Jesus. To find truth in the answers to all of life’s questions embedded in God’s word. To remind ourselves of all Jesus has done for us and for those around us. To see his work and the impact that work made in our lives and the lives of others. To have our lives, our faith and our work validated through the grace God offers to all of us. Going to Jesus in prayer and studying his word helps us see past the bars of whatever prison in which we we’ve locked ourselves.

At the end of his message to John, Jesus offered an encouraging and kind rebuke to his kin. He told those two disciples to tell John, “Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me.” Here’s what I think that meant to John, and, by extension, what I think it means to you and me.

Jesus says, “I’m the one. If you’re questioning that, don’t. Don’t look for anyone else. Just don’t lose faith just because I’m not doing things the way you think I should or because things aren’t going your way. Just be who you were called by God to be. Trust my will and my way.”

That’s the rub, isn’t it? In the middle of our discouragement and doubt, we want God to do things the way we think he should. Fit him into our Messianic mold. That’s never the right answer to the troubles that eat at our souls.

I keep going back to that verse in John where Jesus was trying to comfort his disciples at the reality of his sacrifice hit them square in the face.

“I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have trouble. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)

“Take heart. I have overcome the world.”

No matter what words old Screwtape is whispering in your ears, know this. With God’s victory guaranteed, no mess we find ourselves in can separate us from his love and grace.

In the middle of our discouragement, we can find peace and take heart in who he is and what he is doing in our lives. And if our prayers seem unanswered, if our lives have taken that unexpected turn as John’s did, we need only to take our fears to Jesus. He is the one. You don’t need to look for anyone or anything else.

“Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.” I Corinthians 15:58)

I think John would say amen to that.

Help My Unbelief

Matthew 17:14-21; Mark 9:14-29; Romans 8:26-27

Life can change in a heartbeat. One moment we are dancing on the mountaintop. The next moment we are trudging through the muck in the valley. One moment buoyed in faith. The next set upon by a world cloaked in doubt.

Jesus moved so easily between his mountaintop experiences and those moments that surely sucked the breath from his lungs. We find one such episode following the Transfiguration. Jesus found himself wrapped in the arms of his Father God, strengthened by his Father’s presence. Within moments, he was immersed in a pitched battle of wills that stripped away the deep sense of peace he enjoyed at the top of the mountain.

Halfway down the mountainside
Jesus heard
the first echo of angry shouts.
Glanced at his three trusted friends,
heart beating faster.
Quickening their pace,
they scurried down the slope toward
the sound of madness.
In a heartbeat,
Jesus traded the
tranquility of the transfiguration
for the
frenzy of a fight.

Reaching the bottom of the path,
Jesus pushed through a bewildered crowd
to find his disciples squared off against
an equal number of scribes.
Hurling insults at one another.
Jesus stepped to the center of the melee.
The crowd grew quiet.
Silenced by Jesus’ sudden appearance.
The bitter argument of rivals
Ceased when Jesus stepped into the clearing.

His eyes shifted back and forth between
the scribes and
his disciples.
Jesus turned to Simon the Zealot
standing at the front of the disciples
Fists clenched.
Jaw set in anger.

Tilting his head toward the scribes,
Jesus asked in a wary voice,

“What are you arguing with them about?”

The quarrel erupted anew.
Each side shouting.
Pointing fingers.
Jesus cringed at the hostility.

Before Jesus could silence them,
a man grabbed his arm.
Caught his attention.
Something in his eyes convinced Jesus
to walk with him a short distance
from the heated confrontation.

“I brought you my son today…”

And the words flowed unrestrained.
First a halting trickle of detail.
Then a torrent of despair.
Unburdening his heart to a healer
concerning the nature of the severe illness
that plagued his son for years.
Growing worse with each passing day.
Sapping the boy’s strength.
Threatening his life.

“I asked your disciples to heal him
but they could not.”

The scribes who had followed from a distance,
erupted in laughter.
Seized the opportunity to belittle the disciples
and their master.
The failure of the disciples
opened the door for them to
discredit Jesus for their incompetence.

The disciples.
Seeing the pained look in Jesus’ eyes,
studied the ground at their feet.
Defiance before the scribes turned to
embarrassment and shame.

Jesus ran his left hand through his hair,.
Rubbed his eyes.
Smoothed his beard.
Deep in thought.
The shake of his head almost imperceptible.
A heavy sigh escaped his lips.
The master spoke quietly to his disciples.

“Oh, faithless generation.
How long shall I stay with you?
How long shall I put up with you?”

He turned to the father.
“Bring the boy to me.”

We learn something about Jesus in this passage that instructs us about living in the moment. Jesus just experienced the most moving moment in his earthly life. In the ultimate of mountaintop experiences, Jesus’ work gained affirmation from the father in the presence of Moses and Elijah. For a brief time, Jesus walked in the bright light of God’s presence and praise.

Every one of us can relate for all of us have longed to hear our father’s praise…to hear our father’s words of love. Jesus stood in the middle of a heavenly scene and heard his Father proclaim, “This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him.”

Can you imagine the overwhelming joy of that personal and poignant moment? More certain than ever of his role in God’s plan to redeem humanity, Jesus committed himself again to the cross. It was the assurance he needed.

Jesus shared that experience with his three closest friends. In the afterglow of the Transfiguration, I can see them standing in a circle with their arms around each other’s shoulders, foreheads almost touching in that prayerful and mind-boggling moment. Expressions of wonder plastered on amazed faces. “Did we see what we just saw? Did we hear what we just heard?”

What a tremendous moment of absolute joy!

Within the hour, though, Jesus found himself in the valley, facing yet another human crisis. He just reaffirmed his commitment to the cross only to find his closest followers baffled and beaten in the task for which he had called them from their tax tables and fishing nets.

In that moment when the disciples could no longer look him in the eye, Jesus must have felt the weight of the world again upon his shoulders. Gone was the aura of glory. In its place, the painful reality of the work that still needed to be done. To go to the cross would be difficult enough. The change human nature might be the more hopeless task. If he could not capture the trust of those closest to him while he was present among them, how could their faith survive the cross?

How often have our mountaintop experiences been followed by that which seemed hopeless? The joy of the mountain rarely survives the walk in the valley. In that moment of crisis, how do we cling to a shaken faith?

Jesus provided an answer. The savior didn’t let his moments of despair overwhelm him. At a time when he surely wondered if mankind would ever find the faith they needed, he did the one thing he knew he could do. He changed the circumstances of a little boy. He changed what he could.

Living as a Christian in an angry, despairing world challenges our faith. Begs us to make a difference. We wonder how we can impact a world that refuses to listen? What can one person do? We lose heart. Lose faith.

Jesus teaches us in this episode that we draw upon the reserves of faith energized on the mountaintop to enable us to deal with the inevitable valley moment. To not let the faithlessness of the world drain our energy or resolve. Jesus shows us that we fight through the episodes that discourage us, finding that thing we can do and doing it, rather than giving in to our despair.

That, my friends, is a lesson I need to learn in this day as I grow so frustrated with the rancid animosity and argument so prevalent in society. When I wonder what I can do to change the world I need only follow Jesus’ example. His example tells me to change what I can. We were not saved by God to stay on the mountain, but to get down in the valley and change what we can.

This passage teaches another great lesson about coming to terms with our struggling faith. God uses even our shrouded faith to accomplish his will. A little is often enough.

Join me back in the story. Jesus asked the father to bring the boy to him. The father obediently carried his boy to Jesus, standing him in front of the great healer. Immediately, the young boy suffered another seizure…violent and terrifying. As the boy fell to the ground trembling, I can imagine Jesus dropping to his knees, placing his hand on the boy’s chest, trying to quiet the tremors.

With his eyes never leaving the boy, Jesus asked the father, “How long has he been like this?” The question was not a medical inquiry. Rather, hear the heartfelt compassion Jesus felt for the misery suffered by an innocent child. The father shared more of the boy’s story and finally asked the favor he wanted to ask of Jesus when he approached the disciples earlier that day. “If you can do anything, take pity on him and help us.”

Jesus looked up at the father, “If you can?…” Hoping to see a glint of faith reflected in the man’s eyes. “Everything is possible for him who believes.”

With tears in his eyes, the father responded, “I do believe, but help me with my unbelief.”

What a true confession of this father’s heart. What a true confession of my own soul. He came seeking Jesus. When Jesus was absent, he thought he found the next best thing…Jesus’ disciples. Whatever faith he brought to the mountain was thrown to the wind by the disciples’ inability to help. The result left him so discouraged that all he could muster when Jesus asked his question was a whispered plea, “If you can…”

Face to face with Jesus, his fragile faith bubbled to the surface. Oh, how his words echo how I feel at times. “I do believe, Jesus. I believe, but I am so discouraged. Doubt is my constant companion. Please, Lord, take away the uncertainty and replace it with unquestioned belief.”

God moves when imperfect faith cries out to a perfect savior. Belief, though flooded with doubt, calls out to the only one who can fix that which is broken. “If you can….” The Father’s prayer is often my prayer. The father’s doubt is my doubt. The father’s reservation is my reservation. I live all too often in this shallow faith, hoping it is enough.

That’s always what I thought this verse taught as if God were saying “If only your faith were stronger, I could act upon your request.” I suspect there is a measure of truth in that interpretation. However, I look at the verse and wonder if Jesus did not hear the father’s profession of doubt-filled faith as sufficient. Might Jesus be telling him, “Listen, everything is possible for him who believes. Give me whatever faith you have, no matter how limited, because my belief in the father is big enough for both of us.”

Follow me again to the story.

Evening comes.
Jesus and his disciples
lay upon the roof of a house,
staring at the stars glittering the night sky.
Tired after a long day.
But sleep will not come.

In the silence surrounding them,
The disciples think about what happened.
Weeks prior they walked two by two
preaching, teaching and healing
in the power of God.
This morning,
when the father lay is son at their feet…
Dismal failure.
Humiliation.
Embarrassment.
From the mountaintop to the valley.

A raspy voice breaks the silence.
Maybe Simon the Zealot.
Mustering all his nerve,
asks the question all wanted to ask.

“Jesus,
Why could we not heal the boy?”

In this teachable moment, Jesus spoke quietly.
“This kind of thing requires prayer.
This kind of thing requires faith.”
Thinking back on the father with feeble,
but sincere faith,
Jesus added,
“Faith as small as a mustard seed
can move a mountain.”

Hyperbole? Maybe. But maybe this story hits upon the central truth of the matter. Jesus doesn’t ask us for perfect faith because we are imperfect. He asks for whatever faith we have to be placed in his hands…If for no other reason that he has enough faith in the grace, goodness and the power of God for all of us as he lifts our needs to the Father in heaven.

Paul shared this with the church in Rome.

“In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. He who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God’s will.”

Place at his feet whatever faith we have and he will take it to the throne of God with the perfect faith of the Spirit.

So, I like this story because we can identify at times with Jesus who came off this amazing mountaintop experience only to find disorder and disarray. Next time we come off a spiritual high, we can look amid the inevitable chaos, as Jesus did, for what we can do and we can do it.

Then, if we find our faith blanketed by the mist of doubt, like the father in the story, let’s give Jesus all the faith we hold no matter how small. Declaring before God, “Help us in our unbelief.” And knowing more that his trust in the Father is enough for all of us.

Plant your mustard seed. Move a mountain.

 

What’s In A Name?

John 11:1-16; John 14:1-7, Luke 24:1-12 and John 20:1-29

Babies make delightful noises. My seven-month-old granddaughter, Lena, babbles with the best of them. Every sound more precious than the last. I want to warn her to be careful, though. When I was her age, my innocent sounds charmed my parents and evidently baffled my uncle. My family says my prattles sounded like “gugen, gugen, gugen” as I crawled across the floor. My uncle, Dean, needed no more reason to shatter my burgeoning self-esteem than to give me my early childhood nickname, “Gugenburger.” Here we are some 61 years later and if Dean wants to pull my chain, he just calls me Gugenburger.

Nicknames have a way of sticking with us far longer than they should, rarely reflecting our more complex personalities.

Consider the label attached to Thomas, one of Jesus’ 12 disciples… “Doubting Thomas.” One incident recorded in scripture, forced a label upon him centuries ago. Like a loving uncle we latch on to it, refusing to let it go, despite the years that pass and the ministry he performed in the following years. I get it. I made the noise. I get stuck with the nickname. Thomas demands to see the nail-pierced hands and gets branded as one who cannot believe unless he sees for himself…a doubter.

Thomas was more than that single life vignette. Discarding the simple listing of disciples named in the gospels, we first encounter him in John 11. He was ministering with Jesus along the Jordan River. One day news arrived that Lazarus, a dear friend of Jesus and his disciples, was deathly ill. The message from his sisters begged Jesus to come quickly. Yet, Jesus spent two more days in ministry in and around the Jordan. On the morning of the third day, Jesus woke his disciples and said, “Let’s go to back to Judea.”

The disciples reacted in horror, reminding Jesus that the Pharisees in Jerusalem tried to kill him just a few days before. “How can you go back,” they said, “when the Jews just tried to stone you? I suspect Thomas argued vocally for an alternate plan.

Jesus would not be deterred. He told the disciples plainly that Lazarus had died. God’s timing is perfect, according to Jesus. “For now that Lazarus is dead, you can see with your own eyes the power of God through me and may believe.” When it became clear that Jesus was going to go to Bethany with or without them, Thomas rallied the disciples with fatal resignation and fierce devotion, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”

Later in the solemnness of the upper room recorded in John 14, Jesus began preparing his disciples for the cold, hard reality of the cross. In words never more clearly spoken, Jesus told them that he would be betrayed, tried, convicted, nailed to a cross and put to death. He offered comforting words.

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, trust also in me…if I go to prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going.“

His words echoed around the chamber. Grave with meaning. Resting heavily on the heart. Every disciple listened, struggling with the words Jesus spoke. Thomas, searching for clarity and understanding, asked the burning question no one else dared ask. “Lord, we don’t know where you are going so how can we know the way.”

Be grateful that Thomas asked the question others failed to ask. For the response to Thomas’ question drew from Jesus salvation’s road map. “I am the Way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” Yes, our friend Thomas is pessimistic at times. Devoted at others. Troubled one moment. Seeking clarity the next.

The seminal moment for Thomas’ life and ministry is that same moment that labeled him unjustly as the doubter. According to Luke 24, Mary returned from the empty tomb that first Easter morning telling the disciples the good news that Jesus had risen. No one believed her. All the disciples doubted her story. Every single one of them. They believed in the resurrected Jesus only when he appeared to them in the upper room…and remember, Thomas was absent that day.

When the disciples told Thomas what they witnessed, he responded much as they did when Mary first shared the news. “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my fingers where the nails were; and put my hand into his side, I will not believe it.” And we tarnish his reputation, labeling him with a nickname…the Doubter.

Here’s the deal. A few days later, Thomas sat sullenly, his head hanging down, surrounded by the energized and enthused followers of Christ, unable to join in their revelry about their risen Lord. Can’t you see the scene unfold?

Looking down.
Lost in thought.
Thomas never heard him enter.
Never registered the rising
volume of excitement.
Never noticed the quiet the then descended like a
blanket of fresh snow as Jesus looked for the
one person he needed to see.

Thomas unconsciously processed the change in atmosphere.
Came out of his trance as a shadow fell over him.
Sandaled and nail-scarred feet stepped into view.
Thomas slowly lifted his head,
almost afraid of what he would see.

Jesus stood before him.
Nodded his head in quiet greeting.
Eyes probing the depths of Thomas’ soul.

Thomas’ mouth opened.
Forming words of surprise without sound.
Stood on shaky legs.
Speechless.
Staring at his Savior.

The reality was too much to bear.
The sound of his early disbelief shouting in his brain.
Thomas could look no longer at the one before him.
Dropped his eyes.
Bowed his head.
Adrift in shame and embarrassment.
Unable to look Jesus in the eyes.

A gentle voice called his name.
“Thomas.
Look at me.”
Arms outstretched.
A welcoming gesture.

Taking a step closer.
Jesus said with sincerity that
begged for belief.
“Put your finger here.
See my hands.”
Thomas stared at the hands of Christ.
Swallowed hard.
Made no move to touch.

“Reach out with your hand.
Put it here in my side.”
An open invitation for Thomas to prove for himself that
this was no dream.

Thomas never flinched.
Touch no longer needed.
Proof no longer required.

Thomas’ eyes.
Once riveted on those hands,
looked into the eyes of Jesus.
Tried to form the words of his heart.
Words that still would not come.
Tears flowed down his cheeks,
rolling through his beard and to the floor.

Thomas’ struggled to gain a breath.
Took a step back.
Clutched his arms across his chest,
forced his hands beneath his armpits,
squeezed as if afraid his chest would explode.
Took another deep breath.
Let it out again slowly and raggedly.

He shook his head with a rueful smile.
Dropped to his knees.
Bowed in reverence.
In a voice that grew
stronger with each word.
Thomas proclaimed
truth of profound understanding…

“My Lord and My God.”

No shred of doubt.
No a moment of pessimism.
No inkling of uncertainty.

Thomas,
the Convinced.

I like Thomas. I find his nickname unfair. Labeled for eternity for a moment of doubt and confusion common to all of Jesus’ followers at some point in life. I find compelling. Complex. And, at times, I am so much like him.

My response to Christ often fluctuates based on the circumstances in which I find myself. At times, I find myself pessimistic, perhaps even a little fatalistic about God’s plan and the troubled times in which we live. Yet, Thomas revealed the answer. My responsibility is to be with him. Simple as that. Wherever he leads I’ll go…even if that leads me to a place I don’t wish to go. Devotion drives the destination. Devoted Thomas.

There are times I find myself struggling to understand God’s will and purpose for my life. Unable to see the where he wishes me to go, what he wants me to do. I can stand immobilized by fear. Hobbled by my lack of understanding. Pretending to know what I don’t know. Or…I can be like Thomas. Asking for clarity. Digging deeper into what he desires for me at this moment in my life. Searching Thomas.

When it came down to it, Thomas left his heart open to the possibilities. “Show me his nail-pierced hands.” Less a scream of doubt as a prayer to make it so. A longing to believe when everything around him said run away. My Lord and My God. Trusting Thomas.

Thomas’ is a story of Easter at its finest. A time when I am reminded…beneath the shadow of the cross and the silhouette of my risen Savior, that he is My Lord and My God.

Call me Gugenburger if you must and we’ll both have a laugh. Would that I live each day with a different nickname…devoted….searching…trusting…convinced.