The account of the resurrection is a wild ride no matter how many times you read it. From the women going to the tomb, to Jesus’ continued ministry before his ascension, it defies everything we understand about how the world’s supposed to work. Which is probably why Thomas is so completely relatable.
Of all things to be known for, Thomas is often identified by his doubt. He’s even sometimes referred to as Thomas the Doubter, which as far as nicknames go is pretty terrible. You know how thoroughly you have to doubt something for the name to stick throughout all of history? I shudder to think what nicknames I would be called I were identified by my lowest moments.
The reason Thomas is associated with doubt is well known and found in the gospel of John. When we find Thomas, the disciples have already been thrown into chaos, joy, and confusion as news travels like wildfire that Jesus is alive and has risen from the grave. But Thomas, is having a vastly different experience.
“One of the twelve disciples, Thomas (nicknamed the Twin), was not with the others when Jesus came. They told him, “We have seen the Lord!” But he replied, “I won’t believe it unless I see the nail wounds in his hands, put my fingers into them, and place my hand into the wound in his side.”
Eight days later the disciples were together again, and this time Thomas was with them. The doors were locked; but suddenly, as before, Jesus was standing among them. “Peace be with you,” he said. Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here, and look at my hands. Put your hand into the wound in my side. Don’t be faithless any longer. Believe!” “My Lord and my God!” Thomas exclaimed. Then Jesus told him, “You believe because you have seen me. Blessed are those who believe without seeing me.” (John 20:24-29)
Yep, Thomas the Doubter alright.
Looking closer at him, we see that this isn’t totally out of character for him. Thomas isn’t exactly known for his positive thinking. He’s all in, but he’s sort of fatalistic about it. The first time we hear him speak is in response to Jesus saying he’s going Bethany after Lazarus’ death. While the other disciples are trying to talk him out of it for fear he will be stoned, Thomas resigns himself to the situation with total, pessimistic commitment, saying “Let’s go, too—and die with Jesus.” (John 11:16)
In some ways Thomas response is downright funny to me. He is so hilariously flippant about his own life, but at the same time is loyal to the point of death. I picture him shrugging while he said it in a very this-might-as-well-happen sort of way. Why not go and die in Bethany? It’s as good a place to die as any. I told Jesus I would stick by him. If he wants to go get himself killed in Bethany then I guess that’s where I’m going to die.
So it’s really no surprise that the resurrection hits the same fatalistic notes in Thomas. I don’t know what experiences Thomas had in his life, but I know he had significant disappointments in his life prior to following Jesus. Why? Because no one is born a pessimist. That is learned through experiences. Who knows how many little heartbreaks, tragedies, and disappointments Thomas had accrued along the course of his life, but by the time he was following Jesus, he had clearly learned to expect very little good from life and he seems to have accepted that fact. So for Thomas to doubt the resurrection is surprisingly consistent with what we know about him.
But here’s the thing, there are some who believe, myself included, that Thomas’ doubt didn’t come out of disbelief. It came from grief.
It seems to me Thomas’ statement that he won’t believe is not because he believes it isn’t true. I think he says he won’t believe because its just too painful to risk his belief and be wrong. Thomas is loyal and steadfast, but he’s also lost and hurting.
There’s so much we can learn about Thomas and his reactions, but one of the greatest takeaways I find in his story is a warning about the far reaches of grief.
Grief isn’t something you can do halfway. If you’ve felt it, you know just how much it permeates every corner of your life. You don’t just feel grief. You are grief. Everything you experience comes through the lens of your loss and how immediately you’re feeling it. You can’t put it down and you can’t ignore it. It demands to be felt. And it doesn’t just stay in the present.
The intensity of grief can tempt us to guard against future intense experiences. We don’t want to feel that level of pain again, so we shut ourselves off or numb ourselves to that pain. The problem with doing that is that we can’t separate out the good. It is impossible to numb ourselves to just negative emotions. The numbing is total. If you numb the bad, you’ll also numb the good. Emotions are just too impossibly intertwined for us to isolate them to our total advantage. If you want to be able to feel joy, you have to remain open to feel pain. If you want to shut off grief, you have to also shut off hope.
This is the state we so often resort to to protect ourselves and it works in the short term but it absolutely robs our future.
Thomas was so focused on keeping himself from feeling pain that he missed out on the beautiful chance to feel hope. He could have been immediately rejoicing in the resurrection. He could have been remembered for his faithful joy. He could have met Jesus at a run instead of a hesitating pause.
And I get it. I’ve been there. Heartache is a mighty beast. I’ve been in that place where everyone else is rejoicing but you’re just bracing for the letdown. Where you just can’t afford hope because the cost of disappointment is just too high to pay. But it’s not our job to weigh those costs.
God doesn’t ask us to budget our hope. He asks us to trust in him and watch our hope return tenfold.
Like Thomas, our hope does not coming without fear and risk. But if we want to keep ourselves alive and not just emotionless, invulnerable husks, we simply must risk the pain of this world and all that that entails through grief. Then, like Thomas, who knows what hopes we will see restored to us. I know for my part, I’d like to have joy left in my heart to embrace them when they come.
Keep your heart open and hope, Christian. Pain will not be forever, but joy certainly will be.
Let’s find some joy,
A
Avalon Robinson Author 