Thomas was standing among the others. He was cynically observant. The others seemed cautiously joyous. Why were they smiling, even if the smiles were labored? Why weren’t they out looking for the stolen body? He would have no fantastical consideration of outlandish myths. He would not settle for legendary stories and lavishing mysteries. He wanted visible truth. He wanted touchable revelation. He wanted logical explanations for his aching soul and broken heart. His master had been brutally murdered by gruff, disciplined Romans and harsh, hateful Sanhedrin members.  

Thomas was idle in his grief and wounded faith. He was equally dismissive of sensational ideas as he was doubtful of their resurrection stories. “Except I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of nails, and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe.” It wasn’t that he was trying to be hateful; he was hurting. And stories didn’t help. Firsthand witness testimony of his friends or of well meaning ladies wouldn’t do. He had to see for himself.

The others were in motion again. They were moving on from the gruesome aspects of crucifixion; for they were beginning to understand the first moments of a birthing Gospel, the death, burial, and resurrection of Christ. Thomas, on the other hand, was still neutral. He couldn’t move forward. There was no oil of evidence to burn the lamp of his future. There was no visible shepherd to lead his straying lamb’s mindset back to greener pastures of love, peace, and a passionate cause.

Why did he have to die? He couldn’t help this circulating in his head. He went deeper into the thought as the muffled conversations of his friends became more and more distant. He could hear the slow beating of his heart, the pulsating of blood running through his body; he wondered what he could have done differently? How did he not see this coming?

And then it happened. He was just standing there. Same eyes, different vision. Same body, different destination. Same smile, different kind of joy. He had seen those eyes light up when giggling children pounced on his lap, or when a blind man stopped fumbling around and walked assuredly for the first time; he had seen that smile when he and his friends were arguing among themselves about position and power, or when one of the Pharisee’s try to verbally trap him with a question about the law. But never had he seen him like this.

Played: 131 | Download | Duration: 00:28:31