Touching the Holes
He sat in the empty house, staring down at his hands. Feeling completely hopeless. And a bit scared.
Just a few weeks before, this room had been full of life, full of friends and laughter. They ate and drank together, slept together, listened to Him together.
Now the rest of his friends were in hiding, locked away, afraid of what might happen next. And he didn't even care to hide. His world had completely crashed in around him -- life wasn't worth much at this point.
Every sound and smell assaults his senses. The faraway laughter of a child in the street takes him back to the hillside where Jesus took all the children onto his lap and blessed them. The smell of freshly squeezed grapes takes him back just a few days, to that passed glass, the cup of future tragedy.
He smells his own body odor and remember the sweaty run from garden to synagogue, from temple to mountain. He looks at his hands, and closes his eyes tight shut. Tears stream down his face.
His body chills as he hears the knock.
"Thomas, He's alive! We saw him! He spoke with us! Come!"
What? Impossible. He had witnessed the torturous death. There were holes. Holes in his hands, a hole in his side. There was no bringing him back.
Why did these people have to torture him with false hope? He just wanted to be left alone. Forever.
"Go away. I can't believe it. Leave me ALONE."
Time passes slowly when you are alone, plagued with doubts and questioning. He spent a week in solitude and distress, aching for answers, wishing to either touch the holes, or die.
Finally, he picked himself up and made his way to the place where the others were. Where they had seen him a week before. He was a doubter.
But he went anyway. What if? It might change his life.
And then there they were. Thomas in the locked room with the others and suddenly Jesus in the midst of them.
"Touch me, Thomas. Feel me. I did it for you."
But he makes contact. He touches raised human flesh. And it sends a shock wave through his body. He crumbles to the floor, caressing the bruised and battered feet. This is his Master. Come back to give him new life, new purpose.
"My Lord and my God."
Eyes lock, skin connects, hearts intertwine. Souls believe.
And Thomas doesn't look back.
What has you doubting today? What do you need to touch, see, smell, taste, hear?
Just a few weeks before, this room had been full of life, full of friends and laughter. They ate and drank together, slept together, listened to Him together.
Now the rest of his friends were in hiding, locked away, afraid of what might happen next. And he didn't even care to hide. His world had completely crashed in around him -- life wasn't worth much at this point.
Every sound and smell assaults his senses. The faraway laughter of a child in the street takes him back to the hillside where Jesus took all the children onto his lap and blessed them. The smell of freshly squeezed grapes takes him back just a few days, to that passed glass, the cup of future tragedy.
He smells his own body odor and remember the sweaty run from garden to synagogue, from temple to mountain. He looks at his hands, and closes his eyes tight shut. Tears stream down his face.
His body chills as he hears the knock.
"Thomas, He's alive! We saw him! He spoke with us! Come!"
What? Impossible. He had witnessed the torturous death. There were holes. Holes in his hands, a hole in his side. There was no bringing him back.
Why did these people have to torture him with false hope? He just wanted to be left alone. Forever.
"Go away. I can't believe it. Leave me ALONE."
Time passes slowly when you are alone, plagued with doubts and questioning. He spent a week in solitude and distress, aching for answers, wishing to either touch the holes, or die.
Finally, he picked himself up and made his way to the place where the others were. Where they had seen him a week before. He was a doubter.
But he went anyway. What if? It might change his life.
And then there they were. Thomas in the locked room with the others and suddenly Jesus in the midst of them.
"Touch me, Thomas. Feel me. I did it for you."
“Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.” John 20:26 NIVHis finger reaches out, slowly. He wavers. To feel living flesh would be nothing less than a miracle. He had seen this body wrapped and placed in the tomb. This body had been pierced and buried.
But he makes contact. He touches raised human flesh. And it sends a shock wave through his body. He crumbles to the floor, caressing the bruised and battered feet. This is his Master. Come back to give him new life, new purpose.
"My Lord and my God."
Eyes lock, skin connects, hearts intertwine. Souls believe.
And Thomas doesn't look back.
What has you doubting today? What do you need to touch, see, smell, taste, hear?