“The Courage to Believe”
John 20:19-31
April 15, 2007 (2nd in Easter)
Rev. John A. Fleming, Pastor
I want to invite you to a Bible study this morning. It is one that happened now some seven or
eight years ago. It happened while I was
the Associate Pastor downtown at the
The
study happened on Sunday evenings. On a
good night, twelve to fifteen people were there. We began our time together by eating. It was, you might say, an organized potluck. We took turns bringing the main dish,
desserts, salads, and vegetables. My job
was to set up the room. When we were
finished eating, we studied. I came up
with the name for the group. I wanted
something catchy and appealing. Since we
ate first and then studied, I came up with the idea of our time being named Food for Thought.
The
first set of lessons had to do with discipleship and how hard it was. I cannot remember the name of the book we
studied, but I do remember that I tried to lead us in the direction of what
discipleship looks like for young adults.
And, of course, in our time together, the subject of the cross and our
beliefs about it came up often. But I
remember one time in particular. It must
have been the spring of the year. We
were talking about the cross. One of our
members had a burning question just about anytime the subject came up. She always asked. This was her question, “How does Jesus dying
on the cross save me?” It was a great
question. It is a deeply theological question
that takes several minutes to answer and so I won’t do it here. It is also a hard question to answer. My answer never seemed to satisfy the one who
asked it. I still remember one of the
nights her question was asked. Becky was
there. Becky had always been in the
church. She was brought to the church as
an infant and she had never left it. Her
story is similar to my story. I think I
will always remember what she said that night.
She said, “I just believe. I
always have. I hope I always will.” Becky spoke for several people in the room
that night.
In
some form or another, we all have beliefs.
I have been to the doctor this week with a respiratory infection. I believe in my young doctor. I believe he can give me what I need to be
well again. I have been on an airplane
before, haven’t you? Every time I have
boarded an airplane, I believed that the pilot would get me to where I was
going safe and sound. Otherwise I would
not have gotten on the plane. What if a
parent did this? What if they
blindfolded one of their children and then told them to walk through the
den. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem
except that this time obstacles were put in the way, things like chairs and
toys. What if the parent guided the
child with his words? The child, don’t
you think, believes that her daddy wouldn’t lead her the wrong way, right? Sure
she believes that! Then there is
our belief in God. And so let me ask you
this morning, “Where are you? What do you believe about God?”
I
heard of a poll that stated that eighty-four percent of people believe in some
form of the afterlife. My idea of the
afterlife is heaven. The poll also said
that eighty-two percent of people polled call themselves Christians. Another twenty-percent of people who have
trouble believing in God believe in the resurrection of Jesus. And here we are on the Sunday after
Easter. The tomb is still empty. The hallelujahs are still ringing in our
ears. People are still singing the Hallelujah
Chorus when no one is listening to them.
Behind our Easter outfits last week and our smiling faces this morning,
perhaps there is a little doubt. Some
folks find a kinship with Thomas, the disciple, when he said, “Unless I see the
mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and
my hand in his side, I will not believe.”
Let’s
look at Thomas and his story this morning, found only in John’s gospel. John tells us that following Jesus’ death,
the disciples were huddled behind locked doors, no longer meeting, rigid with
fear, and afraid that the ones who had crucified Jesus would soon come for
them. John also tells us that Thomas was
not present when Jesus appeared to them.
I have always wondered where Thomas was.
Perhaps Thomas needed a breath of fresh air. The fear in the air probably was getting the
best of him. Maybe he took a walk to
think about things. One preacher I know,
Reverend Jeanie Burton, once said this, “Maybe Thomas went out to get the
biblical equivalent of pizza.” Wherever
he was, he was not in the room with the other disciples on that first Easter
evening when Jesus came through the locked door.
Thomas
was not there when Jesus showed them his hands and his side. He was not there when Jesus offered the now
ten disciples peace. Thomas was no where
to be found when Jesus breathed on them and gave them His Holy Spirit. Thomas was not there when Jesus commissioned
the disciples to continue his work and gave them the power to forgive sins or
to hold on to their forgiveness.
I
can imagine Thomas coming back to the room and seeing a very different look on his
fellow disciples’ faces. I can imagine
one of them, perhaps Peter, saying, “Thomas, you should have been here! You missed it! It was great!
Jesus was just here!” I don’t
think that Thomas’ reaction is surprising.
I know he is disappointed. Maybe
he is devastated. Instead of saying,
“Oh, man, how could I have missed him!” instead of having a curiosity about
what had happened, Thomas essentially said, “I don’t believe you.”
This
morning, on the first Sunday after Easter, I am wondering, “Can you find the
courage to believe?” And where is it, exactly, do we find this
courage to believe? Here is what I
think. I think we find it in at least
three places. See if you agree with me.
First, I believe we find the courage to believe in
the testimony of others. Let me ask you,
“Who was the first one who told you the stories of Jesus?” Do you remember? Was it your mom or your dad? Was it one of your grandparents? Maybe it was one of your Sunday school
teachers.
Through the years I have made fun of my first grade Sunday School
teacher, Miss Nancy Williams. I’ve made
fun of her age, mostly, in some of my sermons.
When I was one, she seemed ancient to me. She probably wasn’t. But
truthfully, I still remember that she was one of the first ones who taught me
the stories of Jesus. She taught me to
sing them, too. How does the song put
it, “Tell me the stories of Jesus, I love to hear. Things I would ask him to tell me if He were
here: scenes by the wayside, tales of
the sea, stories of Jesus, tell them to me.”
Was
it a Sunday school teacher who first told you the stories of Jesus? Heaven forbid, was
it a pastor who first shared a story of Jesus with you? Maybe it was a friend. Now let me ask you this. Have you thanked them for doing that?
Now
I will admit that it was much easier to believe when I was a child. God was big to enough to hold me and to
protect me from the monsters under my bed and the ones that lived in my
closet. I had been taught that God would
hold me close and I believed that.
Church,
listen. We have an awesome
responsibility to communicate the faith and to teach its lessons. Somewhere I read that adults carry out the
beliefs they embraced when they were young.
Somewhere I heard that the moral foundations are in place by the age of
nine. I read that most people make the
decision about the significance of the resurrection of Jesus by the time they
are twelve. And now get this, what we
believe by the time we are thirteen, thirteen, is often what we die believing.
Where
do we find the courage to believe? We
find it in the testimony of others. If
you want to believe, hang around believers.
There will be time to save sinners later. If you need help believing, hang around
believers. Watch what they do. Observe their behavior. Notice their attitudes. Notice how they handle the very hard times in
their lives. They won’t be perfect and
you should not expect them to be, but
notice how their beliefs form the foundation of their lives. And then go and do like them. The courage to believe comes from others.
But
the courage to believe also comes from our own personal experiences. The ending of our lesson today tells us that
a week later, Jesus was with his disciples again. Jesus once again offered them peace. Then he turned to Thomas and said, “Put your
finger here, see my hands. Reach out
your hand and put it in my side. Do not
doubt, but believe.”
Think
about this. We tend to put ourselves
behind locked doors. We think we are
keeping the world out, but we’re keeping ourselves locked in instead. Through those locked doors, Jesus comes. We recognize him by the nail prints in his
hands.
As one preacher put
this, “To live is to live with the scars. The scars are reminders of the times we could
have died, but didn’t. The wounds of
life have left reminders.” So it is with
Jesus. He makes himself known to us
through the signs of his wounds and reaches for us where it hurts and asks us
to believe.
I heard the story of a
man who had a conversion experience. On
a fall day he talked with God. He said
to God, “With your help, God, I will follow you the best way I can.” The man says that he did not feel a rush of
emotion. There was no lighting bolt from
heaven. His conversion happened in his
life. For him, he slowly changed his
character. He changed his values. He changed his attitudes. He changed his priorities. He changed his relationships. It was noticeable. So much so that one day his daughter said to
her mother, “Mommy, I want God to do for me what He’s done for daddy.” Now that is powerful. The courage to believe comes when we are hurt
and wounded and when we have a personal encounter with the Almighty.
Now let me finally say
this. I think there is time. The courage to believe comes from others and
the courage to believe comes from a personal encounter with Jesus. But the courage to believe also comes in a
hope for the future.
Here’s my question for you this morning.
“Do you have the courage to believe today?” Let us pray.
(Special thanks to the
members of the Food for Thought Bible Study at the First United Methodist
Church of Little Rock for their help with the opening to this sermon. Special thanks to a minister friend of mine
who helped me think through the three ways we find the courage to believe. And special thanks to those who first shared
the stories of Jesus with me. They are
my parents and the fine people at the