What Comes Next
In this week’s scripture we get to hear a story that’s probably familiar to most of us, when Jesus reappears to the disciples after his death and resurrection. But the disciple, Thomas, is not with the others when Jesus appears to them, and when they tell him, he simply cannot believe what they are saying. It is only when Jesus appears to Thomas as well, and he invites Thomas to put his hands on his wounds that Thomas recognizes his Lord.
The scene must have been difficult to comprehend, because even as we picture it in our minds, it’s hard for us to imagine seeing a friend who we know is dead to be, in fact, very much alive. If we think about it, and try to put ourselves in Thomas’s shoes, we can imagine our own confusion, and think our minds might be playing tricks on us, or that we’re somehow mistaken.
Yet this is also, perhaps, one of the most relevant and relatable scripture passages, given what we’re going through today.
The disciples are living in a place of fear. They have locked themselves away from their neighbors. They are very careful about who they come into contact with. They stay out of public out of worry for their own safety. This isn’t paranoia. This isn’t an over-reaction. They have good reason to be afraid, and so they are acting perfectly rationally given their circumstances.
And into this house of solitude, into the disciples own sort of quarantine, comes Jesus. Jesus comes to visit with Thomas, to ease his doubts, to give him some peace of mind about who he is, what has happened, and what comes next. Jesus offered them blessings, showed them many signs, and gave them yet again, his promise of the life to come in his name.
We can see that the week after the crucifixion was a low point for the disciples. We see them in solitude, sequestered from their neighbors, afraid of the world around them, and wondering what would come next. And in that context, a context that might seem familiar to us today, it’s natural to assume the worst.
We often get caught up in our own negative thinking. I do it all the time. When we fixate on possible negative outcomes, and if we do that too much, we because convinced that the worst-case scenario is the only scenario. And when something good happens instead, we find it hard to believe, and we need to test it for ourselves, reach out for ourselves, put our own fingers in the wound, as it were.
There’s a lot of anxiety in our world about what comes next or when “next” is even allowed to start.
I’ve heard from some fatalists that this is the beginning of anarchy – that as patience thins and supply chains are stretched, that society will begin to crumble until we’re all living in a post-apocalyptic, dog-eat-dog chaos, every man for himself.
Writing in the wake and wreckage of the English Civil War, the philosopher Thomas Hobbes took that dim view of humanity. Out of that traumatic experience, he concluded that men are bound to live in constant fear, and that life itself is “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.”
I tend to hear similar thoughts from people who, in my opinion, spend way too much time reading apocalyptic comic books and watching end-of-the-world tv shows and movies.
It’s probably not likely to happen like that.
Humanity has survived far greater threats than this one and come out with our societies largely intact. That’s not to say that everything will immediately go back to the way things were just a few short months ago. But I think we’re generally more resilient than we often get credit for.
Every once in a while, a destructive event comes along that really throws us for a loop. Wars, natural disasters, famines, droughts, and in this case, a pestilence. And they can seriously wreak some havoc. That’s not in dispute.
But what’s also not in dispute is that, even though some men or some forces of nature might occasionally throw us into fits of destruction, the overwhelming witness of human history shows that we are fundamentally geared towards construction.
Instead of Hobbes, who imagined humanity as rather brutish creatures when removed from their society, we might look instead to John Locke or David Hume, for whom man and society and inseparable. As much as people are products of the societies in which they are raised, those societies are equally as much a product of people living and working together, and though they may occasionally have hiccups, or even break down, both people and society are far less fragile than we might imagine, and they don’t stay down for long.
Now, I’m not a philosopher, and this is not a philosophy paper. But I am a minister of God, and when we look at broader themes like the arc of humanity, insights into human nature, and the restraints and impulses of our whims and our wills, well… philosophy and theology and constantly crossing paths.
This is especially true in the case of John Locke, whose philosophy on politics and human nature come out of a Christian theological structure, in that humanity exists in a world for God and for God’s purposes, and that governments (and I would extend that to societies in general), exist to serve those purposes.
Now, I don’t say this is support of or in objection to any particular political issue we face today, because the 17th century world of Locke’s writing, and the presumptions of what a Christian society might look like, are very different today than they were then. But individual policy prescriptions aside, what we’re left with is an underlying assumption that men are created by God, for God’s purposes, and that the forward arc of humanity is in pursuit of those purposes. God creates man and out of that creation, it is our innate spirit to create societal structure and order.
We’re used to hearing about the many ways in which people have a competitive spirit. And that’s certainly true – we see it in sports, in conflicts, in economics. There’s no shortage of competitiveness in us.
But we’re also endowed with very strong, yet somehow less idolized cooperative spirits as well. Civilizations and functioning societies didn’t spring up all over the world by pure chance. It’s because anywhere there’s people, there’s the need to feed everyone, clothe everyone, house everyone, care for everyone – because that is part of God’s purpose for us. And we have different ways of going about doing that – no two societies are going to look exactly the same. But there’s a reason houses get built, roads get built, food gets farmed, doctors are trained… you get the idea.
When a building burns down, we rebuild it. When a flood destroys crops, we replant them. When a virus sweeps through our world, we mourn the losses, tend to the sick, and look for ways to better prepare and manage the next one.
Now, some of us might hear all of this and think I’m just blowing hot air, because it’s a given that things will return to normal. While others might hear this and think I’m being optimistic, because “normal” as we knew it might never return, or if it does, it’s a long time off. But whether you think I’m completely far off in one direction or the other, or whether I’m pretty close to the mark, the one thing we’re all looking for is some certainty.
We all want to know what’s coming.
We all want some proof that this promise we’ve all bought into – this hope of what is to come – this assurance that everything will be ok – we want some proof that that’s what’s actually going to happen.
Deep down, I think we all know it will. That eventually things will settle down. Our lives will resume. I think we’re all pretty confident of that.
But wouldn’t it be nice to catch a glimpse of the world 6 months or a year or two years from now, and know for certain that it’s going to happen?
In that way, we’re no different from Thomas, putting our fingers in the wound, wanting to see, to believe, to verify with our own eyes.
We know things will get better. We know that God’s plan for the world is always towards greater, not lesser – greater love, greater compassion, greater safety, greater providence. Even as we endure some setbacks and pitfulls along that arc.
And yet, in times such as these, we need God’s reassurance. We need Jesus to take our hands, touch our fingers to his body, and say to us, “do not doubt, but believe.”
That doesn’t make us faithless. It doesn’t make us worse Christians, or worse Americans, or worse people. It means that we are human. We are strong and we are frail. We live in faith and doubt. We both love and fear. Just as God made us.
But we have God’s promise. We have Christ’s reassurance. We are loved even in our doubts and our weaknesses and our times of darkness – especially in our times of darkness. And we are made by God. Made in such a way as to serve his purpose. And God’s purpose is always better. This is to not for our glory, but for our benefit, even as the glory to God and God alone. Amen.
Please pray with me.
Holy Father, who creates us, sustains us, and gives us life and purpose, hear our prayer. For the gift of your Creation and our place in it we give you thanks. For the compassion and love you constantly show us, we praise your name. And for your Son, who reassures us in our doubts, who fills us with faith and courage, and who redeems us in your name, we give you worship. Bless your creation, bless those who suffer, and bless those who doubt, in the holy name of Jesus, we pray. Amen.
In this week’s scripture we get to hear a story that’s probably familiar to most of us, when Jesus reappears to the disciples after his death and resurrection. But the disciple, Thomas, is not with the others when Jesus appears to them, and when they tell him, he simply cannot believe what they are saying. It is only when Jesus appears to Thomas as well, and he invites Thomas to put his hands on his wounds that Thomas recognizes his Lord.
The scene must have been difficult to comprehend, because even as we picture it in our minds, it’s hard for us to imagine seeing a friend who we know is dead to be, in fact, very much alive. If we think about it, and try to put ourselves in Thomas’s shoes, we can imagine our own confusion, and think our minds might be playing tricks on us, or that we’re somehow mistaken.
Yet this is also, perhaps, one of the most relevant and relatable scripture passages, given what we’re going through today.
The disciples are living in a place of fear. They have locked themselves away from their neighbors. They are very careful about who they come into contact with. They stay out of public out of worry for their own safety. This isn’t paranoia. This isn’t an over-reaction. They have good reason to be afraid, and so they are acting perfectly rationally given their circumstances.
And into this house of solitude, into the disciples own sort of quarantine, comes Jesus. Jesus comes to visit with Thomas, to ease his doubts, to give him some peace of mind about who he is, what has happened, and what comes next. Jesus offered them blessings, showed them many signs, and gave them yet again, his promise of the life to come in his name.
We can see that the week after the crucifixion was a low point for the disciples. We see them in solitude, sequestered from their neighbors, afraid of the world around them, and wondering what would come next. And in that context, a context that might seem familiar to us today, it’s natural to assume the worst.
We often get caught up in our own negative thinking. I do it all the time. When we fixate on possible negative outcomes, and if we do that too much, we because convinced that the worst-case scenario is the only scenario. And when something good happens instead, we find it hard to believe, and we need to test it for ourselves, reach out for ourselves, put our own fingers in the wound, as it were.
There’s a lot of anxiety in our world about what comes next or when “next” is even allowed to start.
I’ve heard from some fatalists that this is the beginning of anarchy – that as patience thins and supply chains are stretched, that society will begin to crumble until we’re all living in a post-apocalyptic, dog-eat-dog chaos, every man for himself.
Writing in the wake and wreckage of the English Civil War, the philosopher Thomas Hobbes took that dim view of humanity. Out of that traumatic experience, he concluded that men are bound to live in constant fear, and that life itself is “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.”
I tend to hear similar thoughts from people who, in my opinion, spend way too much time reading apocalyptic comic books and watching end-of-the-world tv shows and movies.
It’s probably not likely to happen like that.
Humanity has survived far greater threats than this one and come out with our societies largely intact. That’s not to say that everything will immediately go back to the way things were just a few short months ago. But I think we’re generally more resilient than we often get credit for.
Every once in a while, a destructive event comes along that really throws us for a loop. Wars, natural disasters, famines, droughts, and in this case, a pestilence. And they can seriously wreak some havoc. That’s not in dispute.
But what’s also not in dispute is that, even though some men or some forces of nature might occasionally throw us into fits of destruction, the overwhelming witness of human history shows that we are fundamentally geared towards construction.
Instead of Hobbes, who imagined humanity as rather brutish creatures when removed from their society, we might look instead to John Locke or David Hume, for whom man and society and inseparable. As much as people are products of the societies in which they are raised, those societies are equally as much a product of people living and working together, and though they may occasionally have hiccups, or even break down, both people and society are far less fragile than we might imagine, and they don’t stay down for long.
Now, I’m not a philosopher, and this is not a philosophy paper. But I am a minister of God, and when we look at broader themes like the arc of humanity, insights into human nature, and the restraints and impulses of our whims and our wills, well… philosophy and theology and constantly crossing paths.
This is especially true in the case of John Locke, whose philosophy on politics and human nature come out of a Christian theological structure, in that humanity exists in a world for God and for God’s purposes, and that governments (and I would extend that to societies in general), exist to serve those purposes.
Now, I don’t say this is support of or in objection to any particular political issue we face today, because the 17th century world of Locke’s writing, and the presumptions of what a Christian society might look like, are very different today than they were then. But individual policy prescriptions aside, what we’re left with is an underlying assumption that men are created by God, for God’s purposes, and that the forward arc of humanity is in pursuit of those purposes. God creates man and out of that creation, it is our innate spirit to create societal structure and order.
We’re used to hearing about the many ways in which people have a competitive spirit. And that’s certainly true – we see it in sports, in conflicts, in economics. There’s no shortage of competitiveness in us.
But we’re also endowed with very strong, yet somehow less idolized cooperative spirits as well. Civilizations and functioning societies didn’t spring up all over the world by pure chance. It’s because anywhere there’s people, there’s the need to feed everyone, clothe everyone, house everyone, care for everyone – because that is part of God’s purpose for us. And we have different ways of going about doing that – no two societies are going to look exactly the same. But there’s a reason houses get built, roads get built, food gets farmed, doctors are trained… you get the idea.
When a building burns down, we rebuild it. When a flood destroys crops, we replant them. When a virus sweeps through our world, we mourn the losses, tend to the sick, and look for ways to better prepare and manage the next one.
Now, some of us might hear all of this and think I’m just blowing hot air, because it’s a given that things will return to normal. While others might hear this and think I’m being optimistic, because “normal” as we knew it might never return, or if it does, it’s a long time off. But whether you think I’m completely far off in one direction or the other, or whether I’m pretty close to the mark, the one thing we’re all looking for is some certainty.
We all want to know what’s coming.
We all want some proof that this promise we’ve all bought into – this hope of what is to come – this assurance that everything will be ok – we want some proof that that’s what’s actually going to happen.
Deep down, I think we all know it will. That eventually things will settle down. Our lives will resume. I think we’re all pretty confident of that.
But wouldn’t it be nice to catch a glimpse of the world 6 months or a year or two years from now, and know for certain that it’s going to happen?
In that way, we’re no different from Thomas, putting our fingers in the wound, wanting to see, to believe, to verify with our own eyes.
We know things will get better. We know that God’s plan for the world is always towards greater, not lesser – greater love, greater compassion, greater safety, greater providence. Even as we endure some setbacks and pitfulls along that arc.
And yet, in times such as these, we need God’s reassurance. We need Jesus to take our hands, touch our fingers to his body, and say to us, “do not doubt, but believe.”
That doesn’t make us faithless. It doesn’t make us worse Christians, or worse Americans, or worse people. It means that we are human. We are strong and we are frail. We live in faith and doubt. We both love and fear. Just as God made us.
But we have God’s promise. We have Christ’s reassurance. We are loved even in our doubts and our weaknesses and our times of darkness – especially in our times of darkness. And we are made by God. Made in such a way as to serve his purpose. And God’s purpose is always better. This is to not for our glory, but for our benefit, even as the glory to God and God alone. Amen.
Please pray with me.
Holy Father, who creates us, sustains us, and gives us life and purpose, hear our prayer. For the gift of your Creation and our place in it we give you thanks. For the compassion and love you constantly show us, we praise your name. And for your Son, who reassures us in our doubts, who fills us with faith and courage, and who redeems us in your name, we give you worship. Bless your creation, bless those who suffer, and bless those who doubt, in the holy name of Jesus, we pray. Amen.