But one of the Twelve, Thomas, was not with them when Jesus came…” (John 20:24).
We have no record of where he was. We don’t know if he was caught in the marketplace or lingering at home. We aren’t privy to whether he was moments away or had decided not to join them at all. We only know that Thomas wasn’t there to see the risen Jesus.
All of us know the feeling of kicking yourself for missing something. Sometimes it’s as simple as going to sleep before the fourth quarter of a football game; other times, it’s making the conscious choice to be in one place instead of another—maybe it’s staying at the office instead of being at the ball game or dance recital—and then immediately realizing that you missed something important.
You know what it’s like to second-guess yourself, knowing that you could have made different scheduling choices to be where you should have been.
But this wasn’t missing the opening minutes of a play or walking in late to a party. Thomas missed Jesus. And just as we don’t know why he wasn’t there, we don’t really know what was going on in his mind.
We only know what he said: “If I don’t see the mark of his nails in His hands, put my finger into the mark of the nails, and put my hand into His side, I will never believe!” (John 20:25).
Were these words of insecurity? The same way that we might talk ourselves into believing that the thing we missed wasn’t actually the best party ever or the most exciting football finish in history?
Were these words of anger? Aimed honestly at himself for his blunder in scheduling?
Were these words of sadness, verbalizing a lack of faith, but more honestly expressing a deep sadness for his absence?
We don’t know. What we do know, though, is that these are definite words. They’re words of resolution: “I. Will. Never. Believe.” Thomas had made up his mind, and whether that was motivated by insecurity, anger, or sadness, he was resolute.
He wouldn’t be caught up in the foolishness that was before him. I mean, come on—Jesus? Back from the dead? It was ridiculous, after all. But here’s the striking thing to me about this passage. Despite his definite claims, despite his resolution toward unbelief, despite his firm conviction to stand on proof rather than faith, Thomas kept showing up: “After eight days His disciples were indoors again, and Thomas was with them…” (John 20:26).
Doubtful, But Present
It’s a little surprising, don’t you think? If he was so full of doubt that he would make such a grand statement about his steadfast refusal to believe, why would he still show up eight days later?
Yet there he was, still meeting with the disciples, and still feeling like an outsider. He was sitting with a group of people, all of whom seemed to have this personal experience with Jesus, all of whom were convinced they had seen the risen Lord.
Everyone but him. He alone held his doubts, and yet there he was.
Similarly, there are times when we wake up in the morning and question what we believe. Is this whole thing really real? Are the stories really true? Am I really going to deny myself and everything the world has to offer today over this?
And the doubts creep into the minds of even the most seasoned of believers. What do we do then? What do we do when we, like Thomas, though we have every reason to believe, find ourselves hit in the face with the fact that we’re basing our entire lives, and even eternity, on something that seems hilariously impossible?
We keep showing up.
True enough, on those days of doubts we might find ourselves sitting in the midst of God’s people, singing songs that we’re not sure we fully believe. Listening to words that seem to ring hollow in our hearts. Feeling devoid of the emotion that characterizes so many of those around us.
And we might, for a time, feel as though we’re the only one—on the outside looking in at a group of people with some common shared experience, that, at least in the moment, seems to have faded in our own memory. But we’re still there. Something inside us has compelled us to be with the people of Jesus. We, too, keep showing up.
And as we do, we find that in showing up, that memory is rekindled. As we sing together, our souls are lifted, and our minds are put at ease. It’s not like a magic pill where you simply gather with God’s people and everything is OK again.
But slowly, over time, we find that this same Jesus—even though we wondered whether He was really dead or alive—reveals Himself to our cold hearts again, and we know that He has been there all along.
Don’t stop showing up, Christian. In fact, if you’re doubting today, it’s the best time to show up again: “After eight days His disciples were indoors again, and Thomas was with them. Even though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them. He said, ‘Peace to you!'” (John 20:26).
Article courtesy of HomeLife Magazine
Michael Kelley and his wife, Jana, have three children. He’s the executive editor of HomeLife and the Director of Discipleship at Lifeway Christian Resources. Keep up with Michael on his blog at michaelkelleyministries.com or on Twitter @_MichaelKelley.
