We like our heroes simple. Brave. Clear-eyed. Unshakable.
But that’s not how it works. Not in real life.
And certainly not in the journey of Thomas, one of Jesus’ closest friends.
He was there. He walked the roads, saw the miracles, heard the parables. He felt the weight of the mission. He believed in the kingdom.
And when Jesus mentioned death, Thomas stepped up.
“Let us also go, that we may die with him.”
That’s not a line from someone who’s hesitant. That’s not caution. That’s love. Bold love.
But love doesn’t protect you from fear. It doesn’t immunize you against doubt.
Because the cross happened. The blood. The silence. The tomb.
And when the others came back talking about resurrection, Thomas said what any of us might have said:
“Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”
Some read this as weakness. As failure.
But what if it’s honesty?
What if Thomas simply voiced what so many were too afraid to say out loud?
We think of faith as this binary switch. On or off. You believe, or you don’t.
But faith isn’t a switch. It’s a journey. A messy, human, limping journey.
So Jesus shows up.
Not to scold. Not to shame.
He says, “Put your finger here.” He offers the wound. The proof.
Not because He had to. But because Thomas needed it.
And that’s the grace of it all. The God of the universe meeting doubt with patience.
Not lightning. Not judgment. Just presence.
Thomas sees. Thomas touches. And Thomas speaks the words that echo through history:
“My Lord and my God!”
Not just teacher. Not just prophet. Not even Messiah.
But God.
It’s the first time one of the disciples makes it that plain. That direct.
And it came from the one who doubted.
Love didn’t protect Thomas from fear. But love stayed. And love questioned. And love waited.
Until faith caught up.
That’s the pattern, isn’t it?
We start with love. We lose our footing. We wrestle. We ask.
And then, when we least expect it, we’re met by the resurrected One.
The doubts don’t disqualify us. They deepen the encounter.
If Thomas can move from bold love to brutal doubt to the deepest declaration of faith, maybe there’s hope for the rest of us.
Maybe it’s not about having perfect belief from the start. Maybe it’s about staying in the room long enough for truth to walk in.
Because faith isn’t just about seeing. It’s about being seen.
