Second Sunday of Easter (C)
April 27, 2025
Text:
John 20:19-31
Alleluia! Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia!
I confess it. I have this deep longing to see Jesus. With these eyes. To touch Him.
To hear His Voice in these waxy, stopped up ears. To talk to Him. To have a give and take. Questions answered. Concerns addressed. And to know, from His own mouth, that all
I’ve believed, all to which I’ve dedicated my life… that it’s true. That all that is wrong, will be, and is
being, righted. That the End will
be everything He’s promised. That it’s worth
it to endure all this… the devil, the world, my own stinking sack of sinful
flesh and bones. I confess it. I’d like to see Him. To meet Him.
And maybe then I’d never doubt again.
Maybe then I’d have no trouble holding fast. Maybe.
Maybe.
So I have some sympathy for St.
Thomas. Thomas is my middle name,
after all. “Doubting Thomas,” we call
him, virtue-signaling our own self-righteousness. Well, don’t we want the same thing? Okay, maybe not to poke around in the
wounds. That’s a bit much. Though, certainly, to see them. And… yes, to handle His crucified, now risen
body. Be taken up into His embrace. Satisfy the five senses, that it really is
true: Jesus Christ is risen from the dead.
And to know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that that is the
answer to everything.
Thomas wanted that. And he got it! He wasn’t with the disciples that first
Easter evening when Jesus appeared in their midst and showed them the wounds. And when they told Thomas, he didn’t believe
their testimony. He insisted on seeing
for himself, and touching, poking, inserting his digits in the nail holes. Only then would he believe.
My, how things changed when the Lord
came again, eight days later (as we are gathered, here today, eight days
later), and this time Thomas was among them.
Jesus gives Thomas the invitation.
“Go head. Put your finger here in
my hands. Stick your hand into my side.” We don’t know if Thomas does it. But we do know that all that doubting
business is out the window. In utter
astonishment, he confesses: “My Lord and my God!” (John 20:28;
ESV). What a wonderful, high, orthodox
Christology, by the way. Thomas knew,
“This Man standing before me, with visible, mortal wounds, yet risen and
living… this Man is my God!” What makes
the difference between the man who doubted just moments before, and the man who
now makes this confession? You know what
I think it is? The wounds, yes. And this: The words! The creative and performative Words Jesus
speaks, and it is so. What are they? “Do not disbelieve,
but believe” (v. 27). And he
does. “Let there be light” (Gen.
1:3). And there is light.
And here is the point. The important thing for Thomas, and therefore
for us, is not the seeing. We
Lutherans know better than that. Seeing
is not believing. Two things transformed
doubting Thomas into believing and confessing theologian Thomas. The presentation of the wounds. And the Word of the Lord that makes things
so. Well, we have that. Right here and now. Jesus is speaking His creative Word of Life
to us at this very moment. And then He’s
going to give us His body… the body with the holes in it, that was nailed to
the cross. And His blood… the blood
poured out from the holes and the riven side.
The Word and the wounds. We’ve got
‘em. He gives ‘em. Hidden in the mouth of a preacher and under
bread and wine. And, this is
counterintuitive, but it is actually better for us that Jesus does it
this way, than just suddenly appearing to us face to face. He could do that. He is here, after all. Bodily.
But He doesn’t. Why might that
be?
If you were sitting at home one
evening in your favorite chair, pondering… maybe a glass of wine… quiet…
solitude… thinking over the questions you have, the concerns you’d like Jesus
to address, the answers to your doubts… and suddenly, wam, there is
Jesus, in your living room, visibly…
Well, first of all, it’d probably scare you to death. Remember (and we know this particularly from
Luke), when the risen Jesus appeared to the Apostles, their first reaction was
generally mortal fear. That is why Jesus
had to speak His Word of Peace: “Peace be with you” (John 20:19,
26). But then, let’s say you have your
conversation. And it’s wonderful. It’s everything you’ve dreamed of. And you go to bed with a peace unlike you’ve
ever felt before, and you sleep like a baby.
And then you wake up, and… Did
that really happen? Was it a dream? Was it that glass of wine? Am I crazy?
Signs and wonders have a shelf
life. I think this is what St. Peter
means, when he’s reminiscing about seeing the Transfiguration on the
holy mountain, and he says, essentially, “that was wonderful. But now, understand, we have something
more sure.” And what is that? “the prophetic word… to which you will do
well to pay attention as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns
and the morning star rises in your hearts” (2 Peter 1:19). You can know, very easily, what really
happened, as opposed to what you dreamt, when you read it in the Word. When you hear it proclaimed. The Word is the vehicle the Lord has given,
by which we can know with certainty what is really true. And it is a powerful Word, the breath of the
risen Lord, imparting His Holy Spirit… Jesus “breathed on them and said to
them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit’” (John 20:22). And the result is living faith in the Lord
Jesus Christ: “these [things] are written that you may believe that Jesus is
the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name”
(v. 31). These things are written, that
you may confess with St. Thomas, that “this Man, with the mortal wounds, yet
risen and living, is my Lord and my God!”
“Do not disbelieve, but believe.”
In fact, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed”
(v. 29). Who believe on account of the
disciples’ testimony. Who believe on
account of the Words.
The Word and the Wounds. Scripture, Preaching, and Sacrament. It is the encounter you are longing
for. Oh, I know, you still want a local
and visible presence, not just an aural and sacramental one. I get it.
That will come. Eternally. In the End.
But in the meantime, here He is.
Jesus Christ. Your Lord and your
God. And you can talk to Him about all
the things that trouble you and cause you to doubt. In fact, you should. We call that prayer. And if you don’t have the words, and don’t
know what to say, just peruse the Psalms.
You’ll find the words there. And just
sing a few of the hymns in your hymn book.
They will help you. And know
that, though you cannot see Him, He is there.
Listening. And if you want to
hear His voice, just open up to the Gospel and read.
Let’s not forget our dear sister,
St. Ellie Warmbier, who laid down in her bed one night, propped up on her side,
and opened up the Scriptures. She wanted
to hear her Savior’s voice. She began to
read. The Words impressed themselves on
her mind. The Words of Jesus, her Lord
and her God. And she was listening. And then she looked up to see Him there. And hear Him with her own ears. And that is the position the nurse found her
in the next morning.
That is how it will be with
you. All at once, you will see
Him face to face. Not as in a daydream
or a fairy tale, but really, tangibly, bodily.
Heaven is more real than anything you’ve ever experienced in this
life. You’ll see Him. Risen, but with the wounds. And you’ll hear Him. The voice you’ve always known since He made
you His own. And touch Him. The body you’ve embraced at the altar, Lord’s
Day after Lord’s Day. And He will
console you, and wipe away your tears.
And then, at just the right moment,
He will raise your body from death. And He’ll
raise St. Thomas, and St. Ellie. And
together, we’ll cry to Him, “My Lord and my God.” Because the Lord will have taken away all our
doubts. And believing… well, it’s not
simply that we will… we do… we have life in His Name. Alleluia!
Christ is risen! He is risen,
indeed! Alleluia! In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X,
and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.