The Doubting Thomas

The day before Easter morning, I got to thinking about what the disciples might have been thinking, with Jesus' body still in the grave, everything up the in the air. I have no idea what they really did think, but I wrote this because I thought it might be applicable to my heart.

Doubting Thomas

So here we are, tonight,

waiting for news.

All of our dreams gone

No one to lead us

No new ambitions

No hope

The “savior”, succumbed to death

beaten and bruised

Laughed at, spit on,

Betrayed by our friend.

Laying in a cave somewhere

What’s the next step?

Now that we have been scattered

Lost our shepherd,

Wandering like lonely sheep.

Hiding behind closed doors

Praying to someone we thought we’d known

The Powerful One, the Almighty

Gone now , with a gasp of air

And had He whispered something then?

We sit like refugees

Waiting for the guards to take us

Waiting for word from that tomb

Faith shaken, heart pounding every moment

And none of us has slept in two days.

I remember He’d said this would happen

But I didn’t believe.

I never believed until later

And I don’t know if I can believe now.

I’ve never been so afraid

I’ve never known fear like this

Not just from the darkness and the earthquakes

And the walking dead

But the emptiness here in my soul

The doubt that pierces and screams and fights

What if everything He said was wrong?

What if I followed Him to my death

And His?

But I remember His words

The soft way he spoke

With quiet authority over it all

Every situation, every storm

Every question presented

And each moment

In which we saw nothing happening,

Where the Father watched and waited

Where we stared and contemplated

His words, so true

So hard to understand.

He said He’d raise again, and I remember

The prophesies from when I was young

The Messiah would live

And rule, and save us from oppression

But He always had something else on His mind

Healing sick people and teaching new things.

Where is the Healer now?

Locked behind a stone, guarded there

Like a prisoner, even in death.

and I don’t think He even said goodbye.

But those last words

I’ll always remember

He called me His friend

He said I wouldn’t be an orphan

He promised me a helper to be there

And to teach me

He talked about mansions and glory

And the Spirit of Truth

He told us to not be troubled

To trust in God, trust also in Him

and He prayed for our peace

I can hold on to that

At least for tonight

And when the morning comes,

When Peter and John go to check

I will know what kind of teacher He was.

I will believe His words for now

Even in the darkness

Because I have no where else to go

He possessed the words of life

He shared the Father with us

Like no one ever had

And for that, I will ever love Him

I will still follow to the death.

Because I think He’s the way to God

The truth in everything uncertain

And in Him we find life.