Touching Wounds

I have long known about Thomas and his need to be certain, but this Easter he has spoken to me in a new way. For those unfamiliar with Thomas, he was one of Jesus’ disciples who was not with the others when Jesus was made known to them after Easter. He famously said he would not believe Christ was risen unless he touched Jesus’ wounds himself. When reading his story again recently, I was drawn to an important subject: knowing Jesus through touching wounds.

Sometimes I think faith like a mustard seed would be an improvement over the faith I hold. Too often, my mind dominates, and my heart can’t get a word into the conversation. Like Thomas, I want to see things for myself; mystery becomes an uncomfortable proposition. Even though my heart longs to enter into a relationship with God, my mind stands at the gate demanding proof.

To be able to reach out and touch Jesus’ wounds would certainly do the trick, but that’s not possible. However, I realized something the other day which awakened my soul: there are wounds all around me. I have many. My wife and children do, too. My friends have wounds, and I’m sure every person I pass during the day does as well. The question is not whether there are wounds to touch. The question is whether I’ll reach out my hand?

I believe every time I touch a wound, I’m touching Christ’s. It’s how I can know him for myself. It may not be what Thomas had in mind, but it achieves the same purpose.

The Ride Ain’t Free

“The door’s open but the ride ain’t free.” Bruce Springsteen

I am not certain, but I’m pretty sure I was the only one thinking theological thoughts as Bruce Springsteen performed to the sold-out crowd last week. During the captivating rendition of Thunder Road, I heard one of my favorite lines and thought only of the coming of Palm Sunday and how we are asked to consider the cost of discipleship. Yes, the door is open, but the ride ain’t free.

This Sunday, churches throughout the world will gather and lift palm branches as if standing on the roadside two thousand years ago welcoming Christ into Jerusalem. The moment was not a geographic one as much as it was spiritual, and, like them, we are invited to stand beside one another and welcome Jesus into our lives as if for the first time. Through God’s grace, that invitation is given to us all, or, to use the lyrics, the door is open.

The catch is, the ride’s not free. Yes, it’s wonderful to stand with others and celebrate God’s triumphant entrance into the gates of our hearts, but that’s only the beginning of the story. There are lessons to learn, tables to turn, and nothing short of death waiting inside. No wonder churches and people love to skip from Palm Sunday to Easter with little attention to what happened in between.

This week, as I make my way to Jerusalem, I want to think not only of the triumphant entrance, but of the cost of letting Christ enter the “city.” At times, the cost seems too great, but I know that on the other side of the work is an empty tomb and new life.

Finding Spring

“The world is your palette. What seems ordinary can, with the right verbal brushstrokes, become a thing of beauty or intrigue” Fred White

In the last stubborn days of winter, when the weight of darkness causes us to stumble toward the promised dawn, it’s time to lift our heads and look with new eyes. “With the right verbal brushstroke,” as Fred White said, we can see our ordinary lives in a new way. For some, to do this only takes a mental or spiritual reminder. For others, it requires deliberate action .

Trace your child’s bare feet and listen to the giggles.

Bend down and listen to the sound of your grandchild sleeping.

Reach out and grab a pine branch then lift your hand to your nose.

Call or meet up with a friend you haven’t seen, or someone you want to know better, and talk about something that matters. (Golf scores and what your children are up to don’t count)

Find a stream and sit by it.

Get up and watch a sunrise, or watch a sunset in silence.

Do something for someone who’s struggling, especially if they’re someone you usually pass or ignore.

The list is endless, and I offer these just to get you thinking. Our ordinary lives can be extraordinary not because we achieve something monumental, or a profound blessing comes our way. All it takes is for us to see our lives as the gifts they are and treasure each moment, each day, as if it were our last. With such a mind shift, with such deliberate effort, darkness becomes light, and winter gives way to spring, or, as White said, our lives become things of beauty or intrigue.