“Without
a Doubt”
Dr. Rich
Peterson
John
20:21-31
March
25, 2007
What
don’t you just go away? Just leave me alone? We have talked about it and we’ve
talked about it and we have talked about it. Please, just leave me to be by
myself.
John,
I’m sorry. John?
I’m
just…I’m just lost. I don’t know where to go. I don’t know what I’m supposed to
do or where I’m supposed to be or who I’m supposed to be.
It
used to be so easy. So easy. And for so long, so easy. All we had to do was
follow Jesus. We didn’t ever really have to make up our minds as to where to
go. He would just say, “Come, follow me” and we would go…up the mountaintops
and down the valleys and even when we didn’t understand, we followed.
It
just used to be so easy. So uncomplicated.
Ah,
that we could go back to those days again -- those days in the very beginning
of my encounter with this man named Jesus. It was a wonderful feeling to be a
part of something full of hope and full of life. It was so easy just simply to
leave everything behind…not worrying about today or tomorrow or the week in the
future…or the year…or the decade in the future. Such confidence we had in
following Jesus -- Jesus, whom we had come to realize, was indeed the Christ.
That
day when I was there listening again, as I had so many times, and yet this time
was different because this time, Jesus pointed to me and called me by name, and
said “Thomas, you follow me. You become a part of these other eleven.
You invest your life in me.”
And
I was still getting over the idea that He knew my name.
Oh
sure, I’d hung around and I knew the other eleven. I knew some of them to be
from very diverse backgrounds. But that he knew my name…that was an incredible
concept to me, indeed.
“Follow
me, Thomas. Become one of my apostles. Help me to usher in the Kingdom of God.”
I
could do that. I could be a part of that. I could follow this man wherever he
would go. I would follow him anywhere, anywhere that he would lead.
That
is why this is so difficult. To not know where to go. To not know who to follow
now. To not know the direction that I should go, the next step to take. Won’t
you please show me where to go?
I
remember. I remember following him that day, and oh I was courageous. Oh, I was
so bold. The day that we found out that not only had his friend, Lazarus, been
sick but that he had actually died and we were going to go back into the
hornet’s nest of Jerusalem and its surrounding areas and we, all of us, sort of
knew what could take place there. And, I with great courage, I told him “Let us
go, all of us. Let us go and follow him unto his death. And our own death as
well.” (Laughs) What courageous words! What words full of confidence!
What
empty words now. Empty words. Empty because I couldn’t follow him to his final
point of destination. I couldn’t go there.
We
went with him, though. Went with him and watched one of the most incredible
things ever to take place. We arrived and there was the sound of wailing and
weeping and mourning over Lazarus, a great and good friend of our Jesus. And we
arrived to the sisters there, who were confused as to why Jesus, in all of the
power that he had displayed at different times, hadn’t come soon enough to heal
their brother.
They
told him, I’m sure that’s what they were talking about, that Lazarus was dead
four days in the tomb, but it didn’t seem to make that big of a difference to
Jesus. He wept, he cried and he consoled them and they consoled him. After all,
Lazarus was a tremendously close friend.
But
there was a resolve in Jesus’ face. A kind of expression on his face that would
lead people to look at him and think, “I wonder what that man has up his
sleeve? I wonder if he knows something that we don’t?” And it was that very
thing. He knew what he was about to do. With great confidence, with more authority
than I’d ever seen him have before, he came and stood facing in front of
Lazarus’ tomb.
They
had already removed the stone away from the entrance. There wasn’t a stench, as
all had imagined, and we hid our faces against it. But it wasn’t there. And
then with great authority, Jesus looking into the tomb with the most authority
that I’d ever heard him command, yelled “LAZARUS, COME FORTH!”
And
that is exactly what Lazarus did!
To
the dismay and to the wonder of all who watched, here was a man wrapped in
burial cloths and he was standing there before Jesus.
“Unwrap
him,” Jesus said. And we did.
Lazarus
was alive. And even those who never believed before, began to believe that
Jesus Christ really was the Son of God, the Anointed, the Messiah.
But
just as had always taken place with everything that Jesus said and every
miracle that he performed, the crowd was divided. There were those who ran and
high-tailed it back to the Jewish leaders, the High Priest and his clones, and
they informed that group of people that they’d better do something about this
Jesus or everyone in the land would begin to follow him.
I
would follow him. I would follow him anywhere. There was no place that he would
lead that I would not follow.
Even
when he began to speak of cryptic things. He began to talk about his own cross.
He began to say things like, “The Son of Man must die on a cross and be buried,
but then he would be raised again.” And all of that just went right through me,
right over my head. I didn’t understand. But I could still follow. I had
followed him before. I had followed when he took us places where I had no idea
where we were going next. I could follow him. I didn’t always understand. It
didn’t always seem to make that much difference.
So
even when we came and we were in that room, the guest quarters, the Upper Room,
and Jesus had grown very somber and he had grown very distant in some ways. But
as we gathered in that place that day, he did an unbelievable thing. No one
else even thought about it. Only Jesus.
As
we came in, Jesus disrobed himself down to his undergarments, took a basin full
of water and a towel. One by one, he would kneel at our feet. One by one, he
would wash the grime and the mud and the filth from our feet. Jesus became a
servant to us. This one that we would have followed anywhere. This one that
we’d left everything behind just to be near -- he was our servant that night.
And
he told us, “I’ve left for you an example. This is the way that you need to
treat each other.”
We
were ashamed a little. No, we were ashamed a lot. Because until that moment, we
had spent all of our time arguing about who was going to be the greatest in the
Kingdom of God. Who was going to sit at the right hand and who was going to sit
at the left hand, and Jesus showed us that in order to enter into the Kingdom
of God, one must become like a child.
Oh,
we were childish all right. But we weren’t children. Not with the faith, the
innocent faith, of a child.
Jesus
did other strange things that night. During the meal he took bread and he
raised it to heaven and he gave thanks. And as he did, he broke it and he
offered it to us saying, “Take, eat, this is my body which is broken for you.”
Filling
a chalice with wine, he held it up and he said, “Behold, the blood of the New
Covenant. My blood, which is poured out for you.”
I
didn’t understand. Not at all. And then, in typical Jesus fashion, he would
sort of lean back there around the table and that smile, that most captivating
smile would come across his face, and he said to us, “Don’t be troubled. You
don’t need to be afraid.”
I
was afraid. I was afraid of the things that he was saying. I was afraid of all
that was about to, I could feel, take place. Something of an ominous evil that
was encompassing us that night. And Jesus was telling us “Don’t be troubled.
Don’t be afraid. There’s no need to be afraid.” He said, “You trust in God. Trust also in me. For in my father’s
house there are many rooms. But I go to prepare a place for you. A room just
for you. A room with your name written above the door, Thomas. That where I am,
there you might be also.”
“You
know the way,” Jesus said.
That
may have been true for all the rest of the people around me, but it wasn’t true
for me. I didn’t know the way. I had no idea what he meant and so it just sort
of blurted out, “Lord, we don’t know where you’re going. How can we know the
way?”
And
Jesus, in only the way that Jesus could, he came and put his hand on my
shoulder and he said, “Thomas, I am the Way. I am the Truth and I am the Life.
And nobody comes to the Father but through me.”
But
I still didn’t understand. I didn’t understand that the way would be so hard. I
didn’t understand that the truth would be too much for me to bear. I didn’t
understand that the way to life included a walk through the path of death.
That
night, as we finished with our meal, Jesus went to his favorite place, the
Garden of Gethsemane. We always felt a little cheated when Jesus went there
because he didn’t take all of us, he took just a few. He didn’t take me that
night. We remained at a distance that night, some others, and myself as his
three closest friends went with them.
But
then we began to see torches in the distance. A crowd coming toward us and I
was afraid. That which I had said before about following him unto death now
seemed ridiculous and I hid in the shadows. And as I hid in the shadows, I
watched as they came through the bushes. I saw as they were led by… Yes, it is…
Judas… What is Judas doing here?
And
then a warm embrace, the kiss of friendship. But following the kiss, the
soldiers came with torches and swords and there was flashing of metal in the
light of the torches and there was blood. Somewhere there was blood. Was Jesus
struck?
No,
it wasn’t Jesus. It looked like one that came with the guards. It is. But now
Jesus is going to him and doing something to his face. I can’t see what he’s
doing.
But
then all of a sudden I’m struck with terror. If they’ve come after Jesus, they
may come after me. Was this “the way” that you were talking about? It was too
much! Is this the truth? If this is the truth, then the truth is too much to
bear. And it was too much to bear.
I
left there. I went to my brother’s house. I’m a twin. Not many people can tell
us apart except for the fact that my twin brother is not a believer in Jesus
Christ. I figured that if Caiaphas was going to bring all of his folks with
him, that would be the last place that they would look for me, at my brother’s
house--one who didn’t believe, one who was very skeptical about everything that
I had given my life to--No, they wouldn’t come to my brother’s house and so
there’s where I went that night.
I
went that night but I couldn’t stay. I put on my brother’s clothes, somehow
thinking that maybe they would think that I was he and he was me and no one
would know that I had been with Jesus. And I walked at a distance watching the
events of that night.
You
see, I saw. I saw what they did to him. I saw how they nailed spikes through
his wrists and through his ankles. I saw blood pouring freely from his forehead
and a mockery of his royalty. That royal crown of thorns. I watched as he drug
that cross to the place that they would kill him and I watched as he went erect
into the air with his arms stretched out. I watched.
And
then with a shrill piercing sound that cut through me, even at a distance, I
heard my Lord say, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani? My God, my God, why, why have
you forsaken me? Why have you forsaken me?”
And
then it was done. And it was over.
And
I ran and hid again. I think I may have slept for maybe two or three days. And
it dawned on me that I needed to find out what happened to the others.
Especially Peter and John. They were so close. They were a part of that mock
trial. They were there. Did they get out? Or were they, too, sacrificed like
Jesus?
And
so I began to go with some purpose and I knew exactly where I was going. I knew
exactly where they would be. They were not very bright. They would go to the
very place that the soldiers would look for them. I went to the home of Mary,
the mother of Mark, and I went up to the Guest Chamber Room and I stood before
the door. And as I went to open the door, it was locked. And it dawned on me,
maybe they’re not as stupid as I thought. They knew they were in danger. And so
I knocked gently on the door. And then I knocked louder because as I stood
there for what seemed like forever, I heard--not weeping or crying--but almost
uncontrollable laughter. Laughter! I wondered if I was at the right place? If I
was standing behind the wrong door? Until the latch came up and there, standing
before me, was John.
But
John hadn’t been crying. John didn’t have the look of grief on his face. He had
an overwhelming look of joy. Of joy! And he pulled me into the room and he
announced my coming. “Thomas is here!” he said. And then everyone came to me
and they began to share with me the entire story that had taken place. And it
came too fast. It came too furious.
It
was John, it was Peter, and it was Mary. They knew, they said, that Jesus was
alive. Mary had gone. She had seen him first. Thought he was the gardener, but
no it was really Jesus. Peter went. John went. The other apostles went. There
were two men who came up to me. Said they were on their way toward Emmaus and a
man, a stranger, came walking with them. And they didn’t realize until the end
of the evening, that that man, that somebody, was Jesus! For Jesus was alive!
And
I said, “STOP! STOP! The grief has driven you mad! You are mad! I saw what they
did to him. I saw the way he paid a price for us. I know that he is dead. Go
away from me! Let me be! Leave me alone!”
But
they didn’t leave me alone. They didn’t leave me alone and they never stopped
telling the same story. The same story as to how Jesus Christ had come to life
again.
The
most difficult thing to comprehend was the change that had come over all of
these people. I mean, I thought I knew these people. I had walked with them for
three-and-a-half years, for goodness’ sake, and I knew them to be weak and
timid and a little bit ‘out of the ordinary.’ But now there was a boldness that
was unexplainable. A transformation had come over these people unlike I had
ever seen before.
And
so I stayed there. I stayed with them and I would hear as the days would move
to a new day, I would hear of other people who had seen Jesus, who had come to
the point in their life that they believed, and their radiance was evidence
enough. I almost believed.
But
I had screamed at the top of my lungs, “Unless I see the nail prints in his
hands, unless I’m able to touch his side and see for myself, I will not
believe! I will not believe!”
But
I wanted to.
Throughout
the week, as the stories came rolling as I saw a transformation after
transformation of people who were filled with the spirit of Christ and who
walked in a boldness that they had never walked in before, I wanted desperately
to believe but I couldn’t. My pride kept me from believing.
After
all, they had seen Jesus. Wasn’t it only right that I would see him too?
And
so here we are. One week after that night that I shouted at my friends
and
I’m lost. I’m empty. I don’t know where to go. I don’t know what to do. I just
don’t know the way. I just don’t the way, anymore.
“John.
John, I … John, is that the stain of
blood on your…
“Can
it be? I…I don’t have to look. I don’t have to feel. I don’t want to doubt
anymore. I want to believe. I want to believe. Oh, my Lord, my God, I believe!”
Concluding
thoughts:
The
Gospel of John alone tells the stories just shared regarding Thomas and his
encounters with Jesus. The stories of Thomas aid John toward the purpose of his
Gospel, simply “that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God,
and that by believing you may have life in his name” (John 20:31).
Biblical
commentator Gary Burge tells us that “throughout the Gospel (of John) faith and
seeing are joined (6:36,11:40,6:46-47, 20:25-29). But this means more than
seeing Jesus and choosing to believe. It is about a different sort of vision
altogether. Many saw Jesus and marveled, but it was seeing through faith
that permitted them to see his glory, to recognize his sonship, to respond to
his shepherd’s voice. Faith permits a vision; a knowing inaccessible to the
person whose sight remains shaped by the world. It is striking that John never uses the noun ‘faith’ (Gk. Pistis)
in his Gospel. Yet the verb ‘to believe’ (Gk. Pisteuo) appears
almost a hundred times. John’s interest
is to underscore the act of believing (as opposed to simply the content of
faith). Most often John’s Gospel follows this verb with a preposition (eis into),
which demands not that we simply believe, but that we place our faith into
someone; in most instances, that someone is Jesus. Faith, then, is more a
matter of relationship than of creed. On occasion it means accepting that a
message given is true and trustworthy, but for the most part faith springs from
confidence in the works Jesus has done and results in a desire to invest all
hope in him.[i]
“Then
Jesus told him (Thomas), ‘Because you have seen me, you have believed: blessed
are those who have not seen me and yet have believed” (John 20:29).
Additional
Comments:
I think it would be wrong for us to stereotypically
believe that Thomas was just a pessimistic doubter. After all, Thomas was given
the opportunity to see Jesus but that opportunity was given to everyone else as
well. We have called him “Doubting Thomas” throughout the centuries but there
were others who followed Jesus who were doubters as well. Mary Magdalene didn’t
recognize Jesus. Thought he was the gardener until he called her name. The
apostles, even those other disciples, thought that Jesus was a ghost. And the
two men on the road to Emmaus walked with him an entire day and didn’t
recognize their own Lord.
You
see, the people involved in that first Easter story were full of doubt. Not
just Thomas. That doubt is sort of a natural response that one would have to
people coming back from the dead. But there is a difference, I believe, between
“doubt”--which is an involuntary emotion--and “unbelief”--which is an act of
the will.
Doubt
will inevitably lead people to understand and to be captivated by the presence
of Jesus Christ, like what took place for Thomas. But unbelief will harden into
rebellion, and we will continue to walk away from Jesus as opposed to, to
Jesus.
Belief
is what John wants us to “get” through the telling of the story of Thomas.
It
is interesting as you read Scripture, Thomas is only mentioned in the Synoptic
Gospels as one who was called along with the other eleven, but John tells us
the story of Thomas’ grand proclamation to go with Jesus and die, as they go to
Lazarus’ home. He is the one, John, the only Gospel writer that tells of us of
Thomas’ question there in the Upper Room. And he is the only Gospel writer that
shares the event of Thomas and his encounter with Jesus Christ, the Risen Lord.
There’s
one other story that John shares in John Chapter 21 and it again names Thomas
by name. He is having breakfast with the freshly fished cod -- fish that were
caught by Jesus and the other disciples. And he is eating with them that last
meal. Then Thomas disappears from the pages of Scripture.
Tradition
tells us that he went on to be a missionary of the resurrection, even ending
his life as a martyr in India. But that is all speculation. What we do know, is
that his encounter with the living Lord Jesus Christ transformed his life.
But
we also know this, that what the other disciples were granted, and that was the
ability to see the wounds and the scars of Jesus, was also granted to Thomas.
But Jesus would tell Thomas, as he would tell all of us living so far removed
from the event, “Blessed are those who believe without seeing.” Blessed are all
of us who have come to believe in Jesus Christ as the risen Son of God and yet
who have never been allowed the opportunity to touch the scars or to see him in
front of us.
There
is a huge difference between doubt and unbelief. There are many today that
doubt. And it’s quite a story, after all. A story of a man dying and then being
raised back to life is a story that doesn’t go according to the script, and so
it’s hard to believe. It’s hard not to doubt.
But
John has written his entire Gospel. He says immediately following this episode
with Thomas, “These things,” he writes, “are written that you might believe
that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and that by believing in His name you might
have life.”