From Doubt to Belief
I'll be the first to admit that sometimes I see the glass as half empty — and by "sometimes" I mean "most times." I'm not the best at staying positive in the midst of a struggle and I tend to think the worst. It's a bad habit, I admit.
But maybe you would feel the same if your world fell apart right before your eyes.
For three years I followed the Master. For three years I listened and learned, tried to understand His teachings, attempted to comprehend His ways. I left my nets and life as a fisherman to be a "fisher of men," instead.
I saw with my own eyes Jesus arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane and I watched from a distance when the Romans nailed Him to a cross. As His blood drained, so did my hope.
I was in shock. What could I think?
I skipped dinner with my fellow disciples that night because I just couldn't handle what was happening. I was in disbelief and utter disillusionment.
The next morning, the disciples ran out to find me and told me something that I just couldn't wrap my head around. They were in the upper room — the place we frequently met — and Jesus appeared with holes in His hands from where the nails had been. How could that be? I had seen him a few days prior nailed to a cross. How is it possible that He was standing before them?
And I missed it.
Peter tried to convince me of what they saw, but I just couldn't believe him.
"Unless I see the nail marks in His hands and put my hand into His side, I just simply won't believe," I told him.
A week went by and again we were all gathered in the upper room. Suddenly, Jesus appeared. I immediately felt the blood drain from my face. Jesus turned toward me and without any hint of sarcasm or jest said, "See my hands?" He held out His hands for me to examine — scarred and torn.
I recoiled with amazement and revulsion. How could they do this to my Lord, my King?
"Reach out your hand and put it into my side, Thomas. Just stop doubting...and believe."
There was nothing I could do but fall to my knees and sob. The tears fell and fell and my weeping felt as if it lasted for hours.
Jesus reached out and put a hand on my shoulder.
"Because you have seen me, you have believed. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed," he said with a smile.
I immediately arose and hugged Him, finally understanding what pure faith was all about.
And so, it's true: I am forever nicknamed Doubting Thomas. And, I suppose, rightfully so. I saw with my own eyes miracle after miracle that the Lord performed, and yet, it took Him coming to me personally to show me the truth — He was alive! He left the grave and resurrected! And most of all, He remembered me.
This article has undergone ministry review and approval.