We all know the story of Thomas. Poor Thomas. Forever branded with the label of "doubter." It's easy to sit here, 2000 years removed from that resurrection morning, and shake our heads at his disbelief. How could he not believe?
But hold on a moment, and let's step into Thomas' sandals. Imagine it: Your friend and Rabbi, the one you believed was the promised Messiah, has been brutally crucified. Because crucifixion was a public display to the citizens by the Romans, communicating to them that they were serious about crime, you knew it didn't end with the "criminal" walking away. Death was an undeniable reality. It was over. Finished.
Then, days later, your closest friends come to you with a story that defies all logic. "We have seen the Lord!" they exclaim.
Can you honestly say, in that moment, your human mind wouldn't have balked?
Wouldn't a wave of disbelief wash over you? After witnessing such loss, the idea of resurrection, of life conquering death, would have felt utterly absurd.
Thomas wasn't being deliberately difficult. He was being human.
He was grappling with something entirely outside the realm of his lived experience. His doubt wasn't a rejection of Jesus, but a yearning for tangible proof in a world that had just crumbled around him.
And don't we feel that sometimes?
Life throws us curveballs. Circumstances shift, prayers seem unanswered, and the solid ground beneath our feet feels like it's giving way. In those moments, the truths we hold dear, the very character of God we believe in, can feel distant, even questionable.
We might find ourselves wondering: Is He really there? Does He truly care? Is He good, even in this?
Just like Thomas, we crave tangible evidence. We live in a world that often demands to see to believe. Our human nature longs for the provable. So when the unseen God feels distant, when His ways are a mystery, doubt can creep in.
Perhaps you've felt it too. That unsettling voice that questions God's faithfulness, His presence, His promises. Maybe it surfaces during a season of hardship, or when you're wrestling with unanswered prayers. Maybe it's a persistent gnawing at the edges of your faith.
Can I offer you comfort?
You are not alone.
Even those closest to Jesus, those who walked and talked with Him daily, wrestled with belief in the face of the impossible.
What's beautiful about Thomas' story isn't just his doubt, but what happens next. Jesus doesn't scold him. He doesn't dismiss his need for proof. Instead, He meets Thomas exactly where he is, and offers him the tangible evidence he longed for.
And his doubt transformed into profound belief: "My Lord and my God!" (John 20:28).
This story reminds us that our doubts don't have to be the end of our faith journey. They can be a doorway to a deeper understanding and relationship with the living God.
It's okay to have questions. It's okay to wrestle with the unseen. It's okay to bring our honest doubts before the One who loves us unconditionally. He doesn't recoil from our uncertainties; He leans in with compassion and understanding.
Instead of labeling Thomas as simply "doubting," perhaps we can see him as someone who dared to ask the hard questions, someone whose honest skepticism paved the way for a powerful affirmation of faith.
And maybe our moments of doubt can lead us to a deeper, more personal encounter with the God who meets us exactly where we are, offering us the reassurance our hearts long for.
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Take a moment to reflect: What doubts or questions are you currently carrying? Can you offer them to God with the same honesty as Thomas did? Trust that He sees you, He hears you, and He meets you with grace.
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Perhaps someone in your life is navigating a time like we've discussed in this post. Consider sending a small gift to let them know that they are not alone in their wondering. It could be just what they need right now.
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