1 Peter 3:1-9, John 20: 19-31
Rev. Nick Cheek
28 to 3. That was the score with only 2 minutes left in the 3rd quarter. 28 – 3. On arguably the grandest stage in sports… the New England Patriots were down 25 points with only 18 minutes left in the game. It was over. Tom Brady’s revenge tour had come to an end. They had no chance of coming back from a deficit that significant to win the Super Bowl. In fact, if you were to look at the statistical analysis that ESPN puts together during games, you would have read that the probability of winning for Atlanta was 98%.
Everyone was calling the game over. The internet was filled with people posting the news as though it was already a done deal. I remember that night well – and with the score 28–3, I started to become a fair-weather fan. I couldn’t bear to watch their season end like this. So, I decided to turn off the TV and get the kids to bed.
After a few books and some back scratches, the kids fell asleep. I decided to turn in for the evening as well. Right when I was about to fall asleep, my phone dinged to tell me I had received a text message. I thought it must have been one of my non-Patriot fan friends trying to get at me… but I looked at the phone anyway. It was my brother. His text read… “Can you believe this?” I wrote back, “I know, our Patriots are falling apart… it’s over.”
My phone dinged again, “No, they’re coming back… Brady is going to win this thing.” Now, I could have simply taken his word for it… believed that the Patriots were coming back to win this thing, turned the light off and gone to bed… I could have had faith. But I couldn’t believe it… I had to see it with my own eyes. And boy, am I glad I did.
It was the greatest comeback in Super Bowl history… something we may never see happen again.
Seeing is believing.
At some point or another, each of us has wanted to see something with our own eyes. We’ve wanted to know for ourselves what’s true and what’s not. It’s one thing to hear someone else’s story—but sometimes, that’s not enough. We want to experience it. Touch it. Feel it. Make sure it’s real. And in our story today, we meet someone who felt the same way—His name was Thomas.
Thomas wasn’t there the first time Jesus appeared to the other disciples after the resurrection. He missed it. He didn’t hear Jesus say, “Peace be with you.” He didn’t see the scars, didn’t hear the voice, didn’t witness the moment when fear turned into joy in that room. So when the others told him, “We’ve seen the Lord!”—Thomas didn’t immediately believe. He said, “Unless I see the nail marks in His hands, unless I touch them myself… I won’t believe it.”
I wish I could have been there… in that room when all the other disciples told Thomas that they had seen Jesus and Thomas gave them the unexpected reply… I imagine the room went quiet. Maybe a few of them gasped. “Did he really just say that?” “The nerve… the audacity!” “How could he doubt us? Doesn’t he trust us?” Some of them may have even muttered under their breath: “That’s Thomas for you… always questioning. He’s just a Doubting Thomas.”
Because of that one moment, Thomas has carried the reputation of being the disciple who doubted. For centuries, people have pointed to him as the example of how not to follow Jesus—as if doubt were a sign of weakness or failure.
But what if there’s more to Thomas than that? What if Thomas’s response is actually more relatable… more accurate to our human condition than what we’ve been trained to believe all these years?
I personally love Thomas. Because he’s a challenger… he doesn’t take someone’s word for it… he investigates… he questions… he pursues… he desires more. In John 14, when Jesus is telling the disciples that he is going ahead of them, to prepare a place for them… so that they could come and be with him—Thomas inquires, “Wait… Jesus… we don’t know where you’re going. How are we going to get there? What’s the address… give us a map.”
Aren’t we all a little like Thomas?
Even though we may have been taught in the church at some point to embrace blind faith, the truth of the matter is … we desire more. Yes, we know what Scripture says. Yes, we’ve heard the Easter story. Yes, we’ve sung the songs of victory. But still—believing that Christ is truly risen, truly alive, and truly at work in the world today? That’s not always easy.
Because, when we look around, it’s hard not to notice the turmoil.
We see wars that seem endless, with no end in sight. Injustice continues to thrive in systems that should be safeguarding the vulnerable, but instead, they’re often neglected or oppressed. People are hurting—physically, mentally, and spiritually. There’s a deep rise in loneliness, depression, and anxiety that weighs heavily on so many hearts.
We’re living in a time of widespread uncertainty. We see corruption in leadership, and the cost of living continues to rise, adding pressure to families already stretched thin. There’s constant worry about the future, about what tomorrow will bring.
And amidst all of this, many of us carry silent griefs that no one can see. Prayers that feel unanswered, struggles that haven’t found resolution. Maybe healing hasn’t come as we hoped. Maybe we’ve suffered losses that still feel raw, that we haven’t yet made peace with.
And then, we’re told to believe that Christ is alive. We hear that He is active, that He is victorious. We’re invited to embrace resurrection power and trust that it’s still at work in the world today.
And in the midst of all this pain, all this uncertainty, the question lingers: Can I really believe that Christ is alive in all of this?
It’s not that we don’t want to believe. It’s that sometimes life makes it hard to believe. We wonder… If He is risen, why does the world still look like this? Why does my life still feel like this?
And, church, if that’s you today—I need you to hear something: You’re not alone. You’re not weak. You’re not less faithful. You’re not less of a Christian. God isn’t angry with you… You’re just being honest… Like Thomas. He needed to see for himself, not because he didn’t love Jesus, but because the pain of the cross was still fresh. The wounds were still real. And in his humanity, he needed something he could touch.
Sometimes… so do we.
Truth is, most of us didn’t come to faith just because someone told us a story… or we read the Bible… or said a prayer. We’re here because, somewhere along the way, we experienced something real. We felt peaceful when we didn’t expect it. We received grace when we didn’t deserve it. We were loved when we were falling apart. We’re here because somewhere along our journey we encountered the risen Christ in someone else.
If we were to take a minute to reflect on when we’ve seen evidence of Christ in our lives… many examples may come to mind.
I’m here because of the church my parents raised me in. I’m here because I’ve graciously been forgiven by someone I love – forgiven when I didn’t deserve it. That’s proof that Jesus is alive. I’m here because I’ve witnessed people overcoming addictions with the help of the church. I’m here because I’ve seen relationships heal. I’m here because I’ve had the blessing of watching teens walk courageously through their depression. I’m here because I’ve witnessed poor and suffering Guatemalan Christian families lift their hands towards God in passionate and ardent worship in spite of their circumstances. I’m here because of my lifelong friend Jason… a friend who encouraged me in the faith and pointed my feet towards Christ. I’m here because when I almost gave up on the Church… a faith community nurtured me back to the feet of Jesus with support, love, and gracious presence.
I’m here because I’ve seen evidence and AND I’m also here because I want to keep on believing and seeing the risen Christ in my life.
Pope Francis was speaking recently on doubt and faith to thousands of Christians gathered at a conference. He suggested that doubts can be overcome, but not without some real faithful evidence. Francis said that studying the Bible and learning the catechism would help, but even more than that he suggests that “the announcement of faith comes to meet us in the concreteness of personal and communal life.” He goes on to say:
“Let us not make faith an abstract theory where doubts multiply. Rather, let us make faith our life. Let us try to practice it in the service of our brothers, especially the neediest… then doubts vanish, because we feel the presence of God and the truth of the Gospel that lives in us and which we share with others.”
Friends, the most powerful evidence that Jesus is alive and well in this world is us—His Church.
We, as His people, are called to be the living proof of His resurrection. We are called to live as Easter people.
What does it mean to be an Easter people? It means that we’re not just waiting for a moment in history to remember. We’re living every day with the hope, the joy, and the transformation that the resurrection brings. As Easter people, we’re not just looking for signs of Christ’s life—we are the signs.
We are living testimonies to the world that Christ is alive. Every time we gather together—when we lift our voices in worship, when we sing, we testify to the living Christ. Every time we come together to hear the Word of God proclaimed, when we ask for forgiveness, when we share in the sacrament of communion, we testify to the living Christ.
When we care for one another, when we serve our neighbors, when we show kindness in a world that desperately needs it—we testify to the risen Christ.
And even in the small moments—in a smile, a helping hand, a prayer offered quietly—we testify that Christ is alive and working through us. In our relationships, in our choices, in our actions, and in the way we love one another… we show the world that resurrection isn’t just a historical event, it’s a living reality.
We’re not perfect. We’re not always as bold as we wish we were. We may have doubts, just like Thomas, but through our actions, through our willingness to share our stories, and share ourselves… we help each other see the evidence of Christ’s resurrection in real, tangible ways.
When Thomas finally sees Jesus—when he sees the wounds, hears His voice, and stands face to face with the risen Christ—he makes a bold, heartfelt, public confession of faith:
“My Lord and my God.”
It’s the most direct declaration of Jesus’ divinity in all the Gospels. And it comes not from Peter… not from John… but from Thomas. And that one moment changes everything.
According to early Church tradition, Thomas didn’t stay locked in that room with the rest of the disciples. After Pentecost, he went out—far out. He carried the message of the risen Christ eastward, beyond familiar borders. He preached the Gospel to the Parthians, the Medes, and the Persians. And by around 52 AD, he arrived in India.
To this day, the Catholic Church in India traces its roots back to the preaching of Thomas. On the Malabar Coast, there are still communities who call themselves “Christians of St. Thomas.” Nearly 2,000 years later, they remember him not as the disciple who doubted—but as the apostle who brought them Jesus.
Thomas eventually gave his life for the faith he once hesitated to believe. He was martyred in the city of Mylapore, and his tomb is still honored there.
I think it’s time for Thomas to get a new nickname. Instead of Doubting Thomas, perhaps we should start calling him Faithful Thomas. After all, he was the only one brave enough to expect more. And I think that takes deep faith.
So… ask your questions, Church… be bold… doubt… seek… struggle, wander… be relentless… and expect more.
Let us leave here today with the stubborn faith of Thomas. Let us live with our eyes wide open, not passively waiting but actively seeking where Jesus is at work in us and the world. Let us live as Easter people… And perhaps, in the way we live—through our words, our actions, our love—our lives will be some of the very proof someone is looking for.
In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.
Amen.