I think I’m missing something.
Where am I
when you come to others?
Yesterday’s miracles seem so small
when dwarfed by present nagging problems.
It seems so long
since you multiplied my loaves,
or breathed a blessing on my complex days.
So little proof remains that you still walk
my dusty paths.
how like Thomas I am,
adding restricting clauses to my faith:
…unless I see…or touch!
If you could just
break through the fast shut doors
of my defensiveness…
…nailprints and spear scar!
My pain still pierces You?
My anxiety, Your affliction, now?
My sin, Your judgment?
My Lord and My God!
I’m glad John included a focus on his fellow disciple, Thomas. If I had been alive during those tumultuous days, I’m sure I’d have been very much like him, experiencing a mixture of joyous acceptance and shaky unbelief. I’d have had to admit my memory hadn’t served me well. I would have had to humbly accept the reality of seeing Jesus alive again, and build this into a sturdy faith capable of taking me through the rest of my life on earth.
Now, so many centuries later, I have one advantage those early disciples operated without until the Day of Pentecost. I’m referring to the indwelling ministry of the Holy Spirit. Again, Jesus promised the Spirit of Truth (John.16:13)would be sent from the Father, and we’ll see shortly that God, the Father, as He always does, kept His promise. More about this later.