I have twin boys. When they were young, perhaps three or four, we took them to the beach off Kenya and had fun putting them in an inner tube, one dangling from each side, and pushing them on the waves. The waves rolled in after perhaps a quarter mile of coral reef. By the time they reached the shore they were maybe six inches high. They were nothing compared to the breakers further out nor like the waves at the beach in Los Angeles. One time I gave the inner tube a push to let it coast to the shore. To my horror the tube tipped over and we saw four legs flailing in the air. When we rescued them, the docile twin was wailing at my negligence. His brother jumped up and yelled, “Wow, that was fun. Let’s do it again.” Two brothers born 20 minutes apart, raised by the same parents, in the same inner tube in the same ocean had perhaps the same experience but two different reactions because they were two different people with two different perspectives on “adventure.” During Easter we look at different people and their response to the resurrection of that Sunday morning. We are familiar with the idea but they were not.
Mary Magdalene stayed outside the tomb, deep in grief, pondering what she has just seen. She withdraws into herself. In the afternoon we see two people walking to Emmaus and deep in conversation trying to understand the event. In the evening we see many of the followers gathered together behind locked doors in fear at the unfolding. None so far truly understand. Resurrected Jesus steps into each reality and meets people personally.
Meanwhile Thomas has not been in these encounters and refuses to believe unless he touches the wounds to know that it is. Indeed the same person he saw crucified. The scars are the proof that it is not a vision. Some days we are just like Thomas. Our vision is clouded with doubts and we cannot be comforted by other’s tales of transformation and maybe reading Scripture feels like an algebra problem to decode.
On those down days, what is the focus of faith? I confess that it is easy for me to bemoan my lack of faith and turn my eyes inward to my limitations. One of the beauties of this encounter is that inspite of Thomas’ weakness and doubts, Jesus again appears and invites Thomas to touch and feel him, “stop doubting and believe.” Jesus changes Thomas’ focus of attention from self and his doubts to look at Jesus. Faith is not something we measure like sugar. The question is not the amount of my faith but the object of my faith. When I focus on self, my weaknesses become glaringly apparent but when I focus on Jesus and his ability to walk through death for love of me, my perspective changes. I do not understand. I cannot comprehend. How can it be? That God, in Christ, would reach out to a doubter like me and ask me to touch and know that Christ is real. I suppose that is why it is called faith.
So where are we looking today? Is the cup half full or half empty? Are we looking at the half full version of the news that sees Jesus missing or do we look at the half empty version that anticipates a God we cannot see but we know is acting. Jesus is willing to go through locked doors to answer our doubts. Let us look to him, touch and feel. And may we, with Thomas, say, “My Lord, and my God.” John 20:28.
On the Way to Wonder 