Remembering Thomas

This is a 2 post kind of day. If you haven't read my earlier post, you should probably scroll down first as this may not make any sense. (It still may not.)

I was praying this afternoon on my way home from the memorial service. Well, I'm calling it praying because I was, in fact, talking to God, but not really so much in a reverent way. It went something like this...

This really sucks. And You keep reminding me of passages where you warn about this sort of thing. I know You said that in this world we'd have trouble but to take heart, You've overcome the world. But this is ringing hollow. What the hell does "take heart" even mean? Are you telling me to cheer up? And what does Your overcoming the world have to do with this tightness in my chest when I selfishly think, "Dear God, what if it had been Sloan?" Would I have to move back in with my parents? Would my brother step up to be the man in Henry's life?

Yeah. I know. This isn't about me. And I'm a selfish prat for thinking this way. But Lord, I just find no solace in the knowledge that you have overcome the world. What's wrong with me? If I am not moved by what you have already done, what else will it take?

But then suddenly, as I crossed the James, I remembered Thomas. I remembered that he didn't believe his friends when they said they'd seen Jesus. He told them, "Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe it."

And I remembered what Jesus did. He showed up, and lovingly told Thomas to touch his scars. And at this thought, I broke. (And it is quite dangerous to be crying in five o'clock traffic.)

What broke me was two-fold.
1. Jesus didn't admonish Thomas for his unbelief. Sure, he blessed those who believe without seeing, but he didn't tell Thomas he was foolish or out of the club for asking to reach out and touch him. He lovingly obliged him.
2. Jesus had scars. His glorified body still bore the marks of my sin. And these scars are what brought Thomas to greater faith. And my scars will continue to bring me to greater faith. They will turn from festering wounds to battle scars, telling of all the times God conquered death in the war zone of my heart.

And that, my friends, is a big friggin' deal.