Easter 2 Sermon - BMT - April 12, 2026

Scripture Readings: Genesis 8:6-16, 9:8-16; Psalm 111; 1 Peter 1:3-9; John 20:19-31

Transcript

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During Easter tide, we're going to journey with Jesus for the forty days that he is in his resurrected body before he ascends. And our scripture reading in John today captures this on the front end of this series. The disciples are locked inside a room behind closed doors in fear. One thing that I think is important to really experience the significance of this event in John's Gospel is to keep the human experience of it before us. That we'd be able to sympathize with the emotion, the despair, the distress of the disciples. They are in fear of the Jewish leadership, of the temple police, the crowds, everybody that was involved in crucifying their rabbi, their Messiah. They no doubt are reflecting, I'm sure, on the teachings of Jesus and recalling when Jesus said, Hey, if they hate me, they're gonna hate you. If they persecute me, they're going to persecute you. And I'm sure that on this side, before any of them, they had not yet seen the resurrected Christ. There is some obscure kind of belief and uncertainty around this empty tomb, but no, none of the male disciples have seen the risen Christ, and I'm sure they're reflecting on this and saying, Oh my goodness, like we're next. Like this is going south really quick. And I'm sure this fear that keeps them behind locked doors, they are fearing suffering. I imagine they're fearing pain, fearing shame. But I think it's even deeper than this. I mean, it wouldn't be hard to imagine that the disciples may have even been fearing, like Jesus chose the wrong guys. I mean, sitting there, I imagine the disciples like if he had chosen other disciples, ones who would have been faithful, ones who would not have abandoned him, not have denied him, not have betrayed him, if he had maybe chosen the cream of the crop, we wouldn't be sitting here. Fear that Jesus chose the wrong disciples, or maybe fear that, well, maybe the mercy of God that Israel needed at this time, maybe the mercy of God just isn't quite enough. Or maybe the love that God has for Israel, maybe that's just not quite enough. Or maybe the power of God, maybe the power, maybe God is just not quite powerful enough to get us out of this mess. This fear of that all we will ever be is close. Like they were so close. I imagine they thought. We're so close to the kingdom, we were so close to redemption, we were so close to Israel being victorious. And they believed that Jesus would be the one to bring them past this threshold of just approximating to salvation and bringing them fully into it. And this experience of being close. I think this is a very human experience. This marks so much of our life. Poet David White has this amazing poem called Close, if you've ever read it, but in it he speaks of our experience that it's like we're always like close to happiness. We're close to words, we're close to tears, we're close to leaving, we're close to giving it all up, we're close to God, we're close to losing faith. The disciples here, they were close. They thought Jesus was the one who would bring them past the threshold of just simply getting all the way up to the finish line, and they feel like they fumbled at like the 99-yard line. So close. So disappointed. So fearful. John makes clear that the disciples are in a locked room, and they're in this locked room out of fear. I imagine, you know, if you had a hideout, I don't know how many of y'all have been on the run from the law. Maybe none. But you're gonna find a house, right? Nobody knows. Like no paper trail, no, I imagine that very few people knew that they were here, this hidden place of fear, this image of just safety. I just need to be safe, need to be secure. I don't want anyone to know where I am. I don't want any threats, right? The barricades, the doors, the locks, the walls. We trap ourselves in fear. And what we see is that the risen Christ is no respecter of locked doors, no respecter of barricades. In fact, this Christ, the risen Christ, doesn't even need to knock down the walls, but can simply and gracefully pass through these locked doors, these barricades. We've repeated many times that look, you only meet God in life. You only meet God where you really are. You don't meet God where you would like to be, spiritually, emotionally, whatever. You don't meet God where you feel like you should be. You don't meet God where you pretend to be. You meet God where you really are, and that's how real God is. God is so real that God meets you where you really are. And here the risen Christ meets the disciples where they really are. Behind locked doors, gripped in fear. To encounter the risen Christ is to encounter Christ encountering you where you really are. This is where the disciples meet Jesus. This is where we meet Christ today. And it's from this place of fear that Christ speaks peace. If there is ever a time for a Messiah, let alone one who could come back from the dead, there is ever a time when a Messiah could come in swinging, playing the blame game with a chip on his shoulder, right? These would be the guys. But Christ comes in to these fearful disciples, thick lists, cowards, abandoned Jesus, betrayed Jesus. And he doesn't come in, bust down the door, and say, What in the world was that all about? Peter, get over here right now. We're going to talk about this later. My peace. When we encounter the risen Christ. That encounter of Christ from our place of fear, disappointment, failure, shame, whatever it is. It is like the encounter with a God that it's like all this God knows, all Christ knows in this moment is peace. That's all Christ knows. All this Christ knows is compassion for the disciples in this moment. To encounter the risen Christ is to encounter this all-encompassing peace, this all-encompassing compassion. And we're told Thomas, right, gets word that Christ has come in and has shown himself and his resurrected body. And Thomas says, I'm not having it. None of that. Not having any of that. I feel like Thomas gets a little bit of a bad rap, you know, doubting Thomas, and we, you know, we look down our nose at Thomas. As though we're any different. As though we're any different. I've heard folks say Augustine was like the first modern man. I uh sometimes I wonder if Thomas was the first modern man. Thomas says, I'm not going to believe in this resurrected body, this living Christ, unless I can put my finger in his wounds. And Christ, again, John tells us, where are they? They're again behind locked doors. He comes in again. And he tells Thomas, put your put your finger here, put your hand here. You see, the wounds on Jesus, his body, are not just the wounds of Jesus' body. This is part of our salvation. They are our wounds. Our wounds. On his body. Yet they're also his wounds. Isaiah tells us he right bore our afflictions, infirmities, and our griefs. See, the wounds in Christ are not just Christ's physical wounds, but they are Thomas's. The wound in Thomas' faith. The wound in Thomas's hope. You see, Christ was the object of Thomas' hope. Right? Any kind of good that Thomas was expecting in the future was because of Christ. And to see Christ's mangled, dead body hanging on a piece of wood and thrown into a tomb, for Thomas, those nails went into his hope, his love, his faith. So when Christ tells Thomas, come put your put your finger here, put your hand here, Christ is inviting Thomas, put your hand precisely, and I mean precisely at the point of your deepest despair. Put your hand in that place, precisely the place where you thought all hope was lost. To encounter the risen Christ, is to encounter Christ in that deepest wound of despair. Our deepest wound of pain, of hopelessness, is to meet Christ at the place of our deepest need. If you think about what do you most deeply need? Not the things on the surface that we most often think about, the things that when things get quiet, maybe it's late at night or it's early in the morning. You most deeply need. That is where we meet the resurrected Christ. And in meeting Christ in his wounds, we see the beginning of a great mystery, a great wisdom that Christ bears in his body. That you can be wounded and resurrected at the same time. When we encounter Christ, so we see in the gospel story today, we encounter Christ where we really are. Are you in a locked room? Christ meets you there. He's no respecter of locks. Christ meets us with great compassion and peace. And Christ invites us to encounter him in the places of our deep wounds, those hurt places. Places precisely where we thought hope was lost. Precisely where we thought there's no way this thing is moving forward. Precisely at the point where your hopes, your dreams seem to be dashed on the rocks. The resurrected Christ, making all things new, encounters us here today. John's gospel tells us, Jesus tells Thomas, you believe because you saw me. This is wonderful. But then he pronounces a blessing on us. But blessed are those who believe and yet did not see. That we believing in the testimony of witnesses of these ragtag group of disciples passed down through ages, that the blessing of the resurrected and crucified Christ is on us. May we hear the word of Christ beckoning to us precisely where we are. May God give you the grace and the courage and the vulnerability to see precisely where you are. Like where you actually are, not where you imagine yourself to be, not where you would like to be, not where you think you should be, but where you are. May you have the grace by the Spirit to see where you are and the confidence and the hope and the faith know that this Christ meets you precisely there. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.