Doubting Thomas / Faithful Christ

This past Sunday was the first Sunday after Easter, and since the lectionary is in John this year for the season, we got to hear the tale of "doubting Thomas" found in John 20. I actually hate that phrase, because I think it misses the point of the story, but I'll say more about that in a minute. It was also "recovery Sunday" at my church, so we had some folks who were in the recovery process from alcohol and other addictions speaking and reading the Psalms for us, which was pretty cool. Although at a glance this story, in which Jesus appears to his disciple Thomas, who then demands proof that Jesus is truly who he says he is, doesn't necessarily tie with recovery, I thought it was particularly appropriate.

First of all, Thomas gets a really bad rap. Unlike Peter, who denied Jesus three times, at least Thomas had the gall to be straight forward about his feelings. But think about the situation. Thomas has spent the last three years following Jesus around, putting all his energy into learning from this radical guy who is talking about bringing about a new kingdom and the like, and then his teacher and friend is put to death. His life is kind of a mess. He's just spent three years on a job hiatus putting all his eggs into the Jesus basket which is now buried six feet under, or so it seems. Not to mention everything Jesus was preaching about can't be true if he's dead, so now what does Thomas have to believe in? He's probably in a pretty bad place emotionally.

This is kind of the position that addicts get to be in. They're at the end of their rope. Things aren't working out and they don't know what to do or how to go forward. But that's not just the story of addicts, but also maybe our story after a major disappointment like a job loss or a failed marriage, or maybe it's the pieces of your life after an unexpected illness has claimed your health and mobility, or even a death. We often find ourselves in this place of despair, where our lives feel so shattered that we're not even sure where to start looking for all the pieces, let alone picking them up and putting them back together. If we think about it, we've all got a bit of Thomas in us from time to time.

After Jesus has been crucified and raised from the dead, he appears to the disciples in a locked room, except poor Thomas isn't with everybody else. Maybe he's drowning his sorrows in wine or maybe he's looking for work, but he's not with them. Later they bump into him and tell him what has happened, but he can't believe it. And why should he? He just spent the last three years misplacing his faith in a dead guy, so why should he cling to what's gone? He is trying to put his life back together and get on with things. Thomas tells his buddies that unless he touches the wounds in Jesus' hands and feet from where he was hung on the cross, he won't believe it. He's still friends with the disciples, though, and so a week later they're all together and Jesus appears again. This time after greeting them with peace he walks right up to Thomas and offers his hands as proof of who he is. Thomas is awe struck and professes that this is God. Jesus says: "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe."

And thus Thomas is ever thereafter identified not by his three years of committment to the gospel but by his moment of weakness and disbelief. Except, Thomas is never identified that way by Jesus. He's identified that way by us, and that's how we do things, isn't it? We often identify ourselves and others by their weaknesses: that's an addict, that's a victim, that's a criminal. It's never 'that's a person who recovered, that's a person who survived, that's a person who reformed.' Jesus doesn't meet Thomas with accusations, but with outstretched hands saying 'okay, you don't believe? Then let me help you.' His response to Thomas' failure to trust in God's word of promise is not a silly moniker or chiding but an invitation to taste and see the reality of the risen Christ standing in his living room. He never says 'shame on you for not believing' but merely points out that he believed because he saw, and others will be blessed because they may believe without having the opportunity to see for themselves.

This says two things to me. First, it means that whatever the broken remains of your life, Jesus is reaching out a hand in the midst of it to offer an encounter that will change your heart, open your eyes, or heal you. Christ meets our failure, disaster, sin, addiction, injury, and illness with the open arms of love. Therefore we shouldn't be identifying others, or ourselves, with the wrong we have done but with the good Jesus offers. Are you a sinner, addict, victim, or criminal? No, you are beloved. We have an amazing God who identifies us not by our worst but with Jesus' best! Secondly, this tells me that you are blessed. You are blessed in your doubt and unbelief and failure, because although you can't see him, you have been given an opportunity to encounter God. The apostle Paul is all about being made strong through our weakness, and that's exactly what happened for Thomas: he was offered Christ not in spite of but because of his doubt! It's through the ashes of a fallow field that a new crop grows. In other words, Jesus takes your worst and transforms it into an opportunity for faith and an encounter with the sacred.

The point isn't that Thomas was a doubter, but that Jesus is a savior who is present and loves us enough to meet us where we are, not demand we get to someplace higher in order to be worthy. We're all sifting through the ashes of our burned out lives in one way or another, whether it be an eating disorder, a broken relationship, or just a sense of apathy about our neighbors and world in need, and Jesus doesn't tell us to get out of the ashes, but hops in and starts digging with us until we can put it all back together. That's the power of God who becomes one of us; it's so that through his weakness, we can be made strong, and through his death, we can be brought to life because he's standing right beside us with open, nail-scarred hands offering faith, hope, and a new future in the middle of the worst life has to throw at us.