THAT'S LIFE

John 20:24-29

24 But Thomas (who was called the Twin^*), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. ²⁵So the other disciples told him, ‘We have seen the Lord.’ But he said to them, ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.’

26 A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ ²⁷Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.’ ²⁸Thomas answered him, ‘My Lord and my God!’ ²⁹Jesus said to him, ‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.’

I’m struck by the loneliness of Thomas, completely apart from his doubting. Imagine a week spent without the one you love most in life, and also apart from those who are “mere” friends.

Perhaps there is no greater image of sin in scripture, literal or symbolic than Thomas’ journey from one week’s beginning to another.

Thomas is a wanderer. He leaves those who care for him, and by his own actions, he separates himself from help. Isn’t that what sin’s role is? We make one lousy choice, just one, and we slide off the soft, centered path, looking for holes in hands and side or simply something that will tell us something concrete we can latch on to, till one day we look up and have no idea where we are or how we got there.

I’ve always thought the line in a hymn that sums my journey the best is “Prone to wander, Lord I feel it. Prone to leave the one I love. Here’s my heart, oh take and seal it, seal it for thy courts above.” I feel Robert Robinson’s pain, the same pain that Thomas felt, the same pain that I often find myself in. Nagging. Throbbing pain.

We are more than conquerors, Paul wrote, but often I am simply a wanderer, bouncing here and there, leaving the only one I can find peace with for who knows what.

Where did Thomas go? What did he do? The Gospel writer tells us none of this, essentially deeming what I feel is vital to the story to be inconsequential. All I know is Thomas made one right decision in this tale, the decision to come back to the group. He is saved not by his faith, but by his loneliness, by his pain, which calls out to him in a week of wandering and tells him to come home, come home.

All fall short, Paul tells us. Thomas walked the dirty streets of Jerusalem as I walk the dirty streets of my community, suffering not because of want but because of my own actions, my own choices, my own disbelief.

But the gift Thomas is given, the gift we’re all allowed, is God’s love translated as grace. Prone to wander, but prone to receive … that’s my life. That every week-day journey away from the safety of the group (the body of Christ) is rewarded with the inexplicable peace Christ gives me.

I see no holes, I see no body, I see no blood, I see no crown, I see no spear. But what I do see is a humbled wanderer given grace one more time.  

Today Mary and I get a glimpse of our future, travelling to our new home, Eunice, La., for a day, meeting people of the new churches, seeing our new parsonage, seeing our new churches. I pray we remember that humbled wanderer's grace all day long.