A couple weeks ago, the Church celebrated the feast day of the Apostle Thomas.

One of the first readings for the day reminded us that Thomas was known as “the twin.” Okay. That makes sense–no doubt he had a twin brother (or sister, though I’m taking a wild guess and saying he’d only be known as “the twin” if he were one of identical twins) running around somewhere, though we never hear about him (or her). To be known by that nickname in those days, when you were often differentiated from others with the same first name by whose son you are, that isn’t strange at all.

But it’s not how we remember Thomas, is it? We don’t remember him for being a twin. We don’t remember him for the fact that he took the Gospel to India. We remember him for one thing, by one name:

Doubting

Doubting Thomas

Ever since I learned that Thomas did, in fact, go on to do some amazing missionary work (and is remembered better for that in other parts of the world), I couldn’t help but think we’ve given him a raw deal in our memories. And as I was pondering Thomas recently and reading the other Scriptures we have that mention him, something even more striking stood out to me.

Yes, Thomas doubted. He wasn’t there the first time Jesus appeared to the disciples after His resurrection, and when his friends greeted him upon his return with, “Yo, Thomas! You won’t believe it! Jesus–He’s alive again!” Thomas responded in a very human, very understandable way.

Because why wouldn’t he? If you showed up at a friend’s house a few days after another friend’s funeral and were told, “He’s alive again!” you’d look at that friend like they were nuts. Because people don’t just rise from the dead. You’d probably worry that the grief had made them go a little crazy. You might even wonder (depending on the friend) if they were trying to pull a really bad joke over on you (and this was Peter, so…don’t put it past him).

So yeah. Thomas replied with, “I’ll believe it when I see it. And actually, not just see it–I’m gonna have to touch the nail prints in His hand.” (This is, of course, the Roseanna Paraphrase, LOL.)

Thomas was in a place of logic. I don’t think it was just doubt…it was rather belief in what he KNEW. He KNEW that Jesus had been crucified. He KNEW that He had died. He KNEW that He’d been buried.

What else did He know? He knew that Jesus was the Son of God. By this point, Peter had first declared that, and Jesus had praised him for it, so I think it’s safe to say all the disciples had embraced that declaration.

But here’s the thing–no one knew what that meant. Because there had never been a Son of God like this, fully man but something more, born of a virgin, untouched by sin. Jesus was something, someone new. Until this time, the phrase “Son of God” (or the plural “sons” anyway) had been used before but to talk about righteous people in general. Similarly, Jesus frequently called himself the “Son of Man,” and that phrase, too, had been used for other prophets.

Those previous righteous men, those prophets…they all died. And when they died, they stayed dead. By doubting the resurrection, Thomas wasn’t saying that he no longer believed Jesus had been sent from God, that He was of God, that He was blameless before God. What he was saying was that he expected Jesus to follow the rules of every other righteous, godly man before Him–to die and stay in the grave. To leave them only with a legacy.

Perfectly reasonable.

But then comes the part of the story where Jesus appears again, while Thomas is there.

I love this story. I love it because Jesus knew. He knew exactly what Thomas had said, and while I think we often read His words as a rebuke, there’s something so tender about this. He appears before this friend of His, and I imagine Him looking Thomas straight in the (wide) eyes. He appears, so He’s already met Thomas’s first condition–he can see Him. And then He invites. He holds out His arms, His hands, and says, “Touch me, Thomas. Touch the nail prints. Touch where the spear sliced me.” He’s saying, Do what you have to do to believe this is real, that’s it’s me. That I am indeed that same physical self that you saw crucified the other day.

What love! When I think about this, I’m reminded of when my kids were little. There was one night when Xoe, who was probably five or six at the time, woke up in a fright. She went all through the house, turning on every light she could find. She didn’t cry or call out, she just went searching. She looked for me in the living room. She looked for me in the kitchen. She looked for me in the basement, where we watched TV. In her muddle, it didn’t occur to her that it was the middle of the night and I’d be in bed–she just went looking where she usually found me. And the more she didn’t find me, the more panicked she became.

Eventually, she made her way upstairs to our bedroom. Now, this is the part of the story that makes me both laugh and which I hate. David woke up first, saw a silhouette of someone standing by our bed, and screamed. Which made Xoe scream and take off running. I quickly got up and went after her. She was crying in her bedroom, and the story spilled out, that she’d been looking for me and couldn’t find me.

Now, at this point, she knew where I was. She could see me. But that wasn’t enough for a panicked, frightened little girl. Of course it wasn’t. She needed more than sight. She needed to feel that her mama was there. So I sat in the rocking chair, and I pulled her into my lap, and I held her close. And I’m sure you can guess what I said.

“I’m here, baby. I’m right here.” My arms around her told her this truth more than my words, more than seeing me had done.

Thomas wasn’t a child–but I think we’re all that child, aren’t we? When the One we love best is nowhere to be found–and we’ve all gone through those trials where we can’t sense God clearly–we go looking. Or maybe we hear other peoples’ stories, and that empty place inside says, “It’s not enough to just take your word for it. I need to experience Him myself.”

And that’s exactly where Jesus met him. I love that He didn’t just say, “See? Here I am.” He invited the touch. The same man who had told Mary Magdalene not to embrace Him because He hadn’t yet gone to the Father gave Thomas permission to touch Him.

Then comes another part I love. Just the invitation was enough. Thomas, so far as we see in the passage, didn’t actually reach out to touch the wounds. Instead, I imagine him dropping to his knees, fully recognizing something no one else had given voice to yet in Scripture. He did not just say, “Jesus, Son of God!” No. What did he say?

“My lord and my God!”

Sit with that a minute. Thomas, the one we know as the Doubter, was the FIRST PERSON to identify this crucial part of Jesus. Not just that He was the SON of God, but that HE IS GOD.

From Thomas’s doubt came the greatest proclamation, the greatest insight, the greatest faith. He took a leap no one, not even Peter, had taken before him.

Jesus’s response is that rebuke we know so well: “Do you believe because you’ve seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen, but still believe.”

But…is that really just a rebuke? In part, yes, but fully? I’m reminded of that line from Romans 10:

How then will they call on him in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone preaching? ¹⁵ And how are they to preach unless they are sent? As it is written, “How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news!”

Yes, blessed are those who believe without seeing…but we can only believe through our senses. In Paul’s words, we still have to HEAR about this miracle. And how do we hear about Him? Because people tell us. They tell us the story.

And this is EXACTLY what Thomas went on to do. He took that good news out into the world so that others could believe without seeing.

So if you’re in a season where you can’t feel Him…can’t hear Him…can’t feel His touch… If ever you’ve doubted, wondered, struggled… If maybe you cling to that knowledge but it feels hollow…

It’s okay. You’re not alone. But know that, just like Thomas, your story doesn’t stop there, and neither does God’s love for you. He will show up, in that locked room. You’ll see Him. But He won’t leave it at that–He’ll invite you into His arms with all the love of the Father. He’ll hold you close, as His beloved child.

I love that doubt is not the end of Thomas’s story. It’s just the beginning. And it’s the very thing that opened his eyes to that most mind-boggling, amazing truth. The thing that let him declare what I pray we all proclaim as we look upon Him someday:

“My lord and my God.”