The Appearances: Thomas

As always, it is such a joy to be here with you, a joy to be part of this series looking at some of the post-resurrection appearances. We've had the road to Damascus, the road to Emmaus; today we're going indoors to a room in Jerusalem where one person who was in that room had his life changed forever. Another person who was there, who was witness to it, recorded it, and that's what we have just read. We're going to concentrate on verse 24 onwards because it's the Thomas and Jesus encounter that I think has so much gold for us this morning.

Thomas, as you know, was one of the 12 disciples, part of the band of brothers that Jesus chose to walk with during his three-year ministry. Now, sadly today, if you mention Thomas to anyone, people will go, "Ah, doubting Thomas," or "doubting Thomas," as if to acknowledge something, but I don't know that it's fair to use that descriptor to cover this man's life. What we know of Thomas is slim; we know that he was always included in the lists of disciples, often, as you heard, with his nickname Didymus, meaning "the twin." We know nothing of who his twin was, or in fact if he even was a twin; perhaps it was that he just looked very much like someone and so it was a nickname, but that feels very Aussie, doesn't it?

We know that earlier in John, in chapter 11, when Jesus was going to head back to Judea to be with Lazarus, his disciples were horrified. "But Rabbi," they said, "a short while ago the Jews there tried to stone you, and yet you're going back." And Thomas, also known as Didymus, said to the rest of the disciples, "Let us also go that we may die with him." Now you could possibly read that as, "Oh let us also go, we may as well die with him," but either way, I think there's a real sense of bravery and loyalty in this man; there's courage in there.

Then the only other time we hear Thomas speak is at the Last Supper when Jesus is explaining what will happen. In John 14:3, Jesus says, "And if I go and 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." And you can imagine the disciples looking sideways, scratching their heads, thinking, "I have no idea what you're meaning." But Thomas was the one who voiced the question and he said, "Lord, we don't know where you're going, so how can we know the way?" And we should be so thankful for Thomas being brave enough to voice his question because Jesus answered, "I am the way, the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father except by me."

Now, just a few days before this Last Supper, Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, and this was so much more than just a convenient way of getting from A to B; this was the King of Peace riding in and fulfilling the prophecy from Zechariah chapter 9: "See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey." His disciples would have been caught up in the crowd, cheering and yelling, "Hosanna! Save us! Praise to you, the one who can save us!" The mood would have been sky-high; the disciples were in the box seats to see God's chosen one, the Messiah, do his thing.

But over the next five days, what they thought was the plan unraveled as God's master plan was revealed: the Passover, the betrayal, the arrest, the accusations, the torture, and then the unthinkable—the crucifixion. Exactly as our dear Lord intended it, exactly as it had to be, but for the disciples who had put all their eggs into this Jesus basket, this was devastating. Their leader, their teacher, their friend, the one they thought was the Messiah, was killed, dead, buried. They had just lost everything, including their way.

On the Sunday after the Friday that Jesus was put into the tomb, the disciples were all gathered in this room, doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, and that's understandable; if they did this to the leader, they could be next, and then they could get rid of this ridiculous sect altogether. And Jesus appeared to the now group of 10—no Judas, he'd killed himself after betraying Jesus, and significantly, no Thomas.

Now, we're not told why Thomas wasn't there. It is not out of the question that he wanted to take his grief alone; he wanted to be alone. Maybe he just needed a bit of space away from the people who he had lived and breathed life with so intensely for three years. Who was he going to be now that that season looked like it had finished? We don't know whether he had been with the disciples all day and just bravely popped out, maybe to get some food for everyone, or whether he hadn't been there all day, but the important thing is that he wasn't there when Jesus appeared in that room the first time.

When he did rejoin the other disciples, they all told him, "We have seen the Lord." Now, to the Greek scholars in here, and I am not one, apparently the word is more like the other disciples kept on telling him, so it would have been more like, "We've seen the—we've seen the Lord! We have seen the risen Lord! I'm sorry you weren't here, but we have seen the Lord!" His ten best mates were all saying the same thing: they had seen Jesus risen from the dead. They were exuberant, and it wasn't helping.

Thomas said to them, "Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe." These were emphatic words: "I refuse to believe what you are telling me, and here are my conditions for belief: I need to see and I need to touch." And so begins the week where Thomas actually does earn his title "doubting Thomas," but even here he's so much more. Doubting Thomas is desperate and he's deeply despondent.

What was going through his mind? Have you ever missed a prayer meeting and then heard everybody say, "Oh, that was amazing"? Or did you happen to miss church one day when it was a really powerful service? Or maybe you missed a workshop that everybody came home afterwards and said that was utterly life-changing? Do you know that feeling? I know it well. The best ever Alpha course was one I wasn't on, and if I was Thomas and I had a week to stew on this, my thoughts would have been: "Was Jesus waiting for me not to be in that room? Is there something wrong with me? Am I less than these other people? Would you have turned up if I were there, Jesus?"

Maybe that's a "me" thing, or maybe that's a doubting human thing. Either way, the Lord had a plan; the Lord always has a perfect plan. Do you wonder about the other disciples? How did they treat Thomas in this week? Were they at him constantly trying to convince him that it was true, or did they leave him alone with his thoughts? Or did one of them—some of them—stay close to him to make sure he was okay in his doubt? Just putting it all out there to ponder.

What we do know is that a week after that first encounter, the scene is reset. All the players are gathered again, same room, but this time Thomas is with them. And again, Jesus appears in their midst, the locked door again no barrier to him, and to this room now full of the strangest joy, but one man still deep in confusion. Jesus says, "Peace be with you," Shalom, that beautiful, almost untranslatable word that means all the blessings of perfect, peaceful life with God be on you.

But then Jesus only has eyes for Thomas. Verse 27: "Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop with the unbelief and believe." The very specific conditions that Thomas had set down for belief had been heard by the almighty ears, and here he was in this room just for Thomas. Just for Thomas, just for the one who was doubting.

What of the Lord's heart here? Can we just take a moment to reflect on this? When Jesus first appeared to his disciples that first time, when they were gathered together, it wouldn't have been a surprise to hear, "Seriously guys, what happened? I mean, you all abandoned me. I think I'm going to get a whole new bunch of disciples and start all over again." No, the words that Jesus said were, "Peace be with you." He still wanted to use and work with his hopeless ones. How encouraging is that? And now Jesus has come back for the one—such a heart of grace.

Sometimes great artworks can capture a moment like nothing else, but I'm going to suggest that the Old Masters who painted the scene that we're looking at today may have missed the truth of what's happening here. I don't know whether you can picture them, but the paintings often have Thomas with his finger in or nearly in Jesus' wounds; it's really quite confronting and slightly troubling. But let's look back at the text, verse 27, when Jesus says, "Put your finger here; see my hand. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Stop with the unbelief and believe." Thomas said to him, "My Lord and my God."

There's no record of him sticking his finger into the wounds, and I suspect that's because he didn't. There was absolutely no need. Thomas thought he needed to see and to touch, but in fact all he needed was an encounter with the risen Lord. Jesus knew that the invitation was there, but now does Thomas hear that his demand was slightly ridiculous? All he actually needed was to stand in Jesus' presence; that was enough.

And from the most arms-crossed skeptic refusing to believe comes the most profound and personal confession: "My Lord and my God." On my couch a few weeks ago, I was starting to think about Easter coming up and just started to reflect how Easter is the time when we remember that God sent his Son to be Savior of the world, to die for the sins of the world. And I was prompted: make that personal. I said, "Well, it's the time when God sent his Son, my Savior, to die for my sins." And suddenly it dropped, and it became very personal. Easter needs to be personal; it's not an event out there, but it's a truth for deep in here—not just here, but deep in here.

In the Alpha course, we hear a couple of times: "If you were the only person on earth, Jesus would have died for you." Now, the first time I heard that, something inside me pushed back, perhaps just as you are doing now: "Ah, yeah, but I'm not the only one; in fact, I'm one of 117 billion people who have ever lived on this earth. I'm amongst those that Jesus died for." There's safety in that huge number, isn't there? He died for all of us, all of our sins.

Could I imagine the love of a Savior who would die just for me? Can you? That is terrifying—to stand before that love, that level of undiluted love. Step out from behind the 117 billion people and stand before our crucified Lord and say, "Thank you," because it must be personal.

When Jesus asked his disciples who people thought he was, Peter was the one who replied with all the various options. But when pressed as to who Peter thought Jesus was, Peter replied, "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God." True and true. When Martha in her distress after Lazarus had died met Jesus on the road, she said, "I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who was to come into the world." Again: true, true, and true. John the Baptist, on seeing Jesus, said, "Look, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world." Could not be truer. But these are facts, acknowledgments of truths. Thomas said, "My Lord and my God," and this is deeply personal.

Thomas, the monotheistic Jew, is declaring the deity of Christ and submitting to him. The pendulum has swung from proudly obstinate to humble submission, from dreadful doubt to absolute conviction, from wavering to worship.

Let's pull out from the passage a bit and dig a bit deeper into doubt. Doubt is "I'm struggling to believe," and that is not sinful. Perhaps you're here today and struggling to believe that Jesus came back from the dead; you are so welcome here. Honest doubt is so much better than fake belief. Doubt doesn't scare God and it shouldn't scare his people. He welcomes all our questions because God only wants us to believe what is true.

But unbelief is something else; it's closer to "I won't believe no matter what. I really don't want this to be true, so therefore it can't be true." And that's said with a bit of a posture of pride and stubbornness. Here are three possible reasons why we doubt, all beginning with 'D': Doubt in 3D.

Perhaps some of us have the disposition to doubt. We're made of the stuff that is inclined to waver. "Can I ever be really sure? What if I'm wrong? What if I miss something?" If this is us, I'd encourage us to just dig deeper, harder into his words. Soak in the truth; let his words fill our minds so we can answer our own doubts. Let's train ourselves to speak truth to our doubts. And please speak up; ask all the questions. Don't be ashamed of doubt; it can lead to good and secure places if handled well. Disposition.

The second D: Distance. Distance can cause doubt. We don't know why Thomas wasn't in the room. Had he pulled away from the brothers? Was he wanting to sort things out on his own? There was a time and place for that, absolutely, but please, if you are doubting, let someone in. Let someone walk alongside you who might be able to help you find certainty and answers. If we are doubting, let's not distance ourselves from the God-given place of safety and refuge: his church.

Disposition, distance... and here's the big one, the third D, and the one that I can most relate to: sometimes doubt comes because of desperate circumstances. Thomas could never have imagined these three days were going to be part of his life. How many of us in this building have been through or are in something that they never thought would be part of their lives—an unthinkable curveball? Gosh, it can throw us, can't it? And it can be very hard to stand in church and sing "I will not be shaken" when you are absolutely shaken to the core. "What is going on here, God? Why did you let this happen, God? How can you possibly be for me if you have let this happen?"

Where do we go with that kind of doubt? When we're doubting God's goodness, to this room that we are picturing today, we stand before our risen Lord with his wounds on display, and we stand there until the truth of what Jesus has done for us personally recenters us. Jesus would never have gone to the cross only to turn his back on us later. He is for you in ways that we can't begin to understand. He is for you even in seasons when that feels unbelievable. My Lord and my God.

I'm so pleased Thomas wasn't in that room the first time Jesus appeared. I'm sorry he had to have a week from hell, but what that encounter teaches us about the heart of Jesus is just extraordinary. In his doubts, Thomas was seen; Thomas was heard. For some reason, Jesus let him sit for a week with all his doubts, but when he turned up, it was just for Thomas. And Jesus gave Thomas not what Thomas thought he wanted, but exactly what he needed: an encounter with the risen Lord. And it changed the course of his life.

The best records suggest that Thomas traveled as far as southern India, sharing about his Lord and his God. He established a community of believers but then was martyred and buried near modern-day Chennai around 72 AD. "Doubting Thomas"? I don't think so.

Just one more thing for us to contemplate this morning: Why did Jesus still have his wounds in his resurrection body? If he was resurrected into his new eternal body, shouldn't it have been perfect? I, for one, am desperate to get into my new body fit for eternity; I'm going to be pirouetting and jetéing all over the new earth. Decades ago I asked this question of someone whose child had a disability, and when I said, "Why did Jesus still have his scars?", the person said, "Perhaps God's idea of perfection is not the same as ours." I like that answer because it was a window into a bigger truth: scars tell a story.

If you have a scar on your body, there'll be a story attached. I have a scar right here; when I was two or three, running, tripped, teeth went right through my bottom lip. That's my scar; that's my story—no other significance. But Jesus' scars tell the extraordinary story of my Savior who came to the earth to die for my sins. Those scars will be with him eternally because they are perfection, and by them we may be made perfect.

If we have surrendered to Jesus, one day we will come face to face with him; we too will see his scars, and I'm confident that not one of us is going to want to stick our finger out and put it in the wounds. My guess is that we will be down on our knees and we will say, if we can speak at all, "My Lord and my God."

Let's pray. Lord Jesus, we are so grateful for what you did that first Easter. Forgive us for having it at arm's length, for celebrating it as an event "out there." Please, Lord Jesus, continue to make it real to us every day, weeks after Easter, that we can have a sense of gratitude for what you did and live in awe of the love that you have for us. Father, I also ask for anyone who is experiencing doubt that you will deal kindly with them as you did with Thomas. Please give them exactly what they need and help us to be ready to be your agents in that. We ask this for Jesus' glory and for our good. Amen.

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