Sermon: Scars and doubts (April 12, 2015, Easter 2)

2^nd Sunday in Easter

April 12, 2015

John 20:19-31

Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia!

            After a lovely Easter celebration with you all last week, I went out to my aunt and uncle’s house on Lake Ontario and enjoyed a wonderful afternoon with my family. As we sat around the table eating dinner, the conversation somehow became one in which we were sharing our scar stories. You know the ones: all the stories, usually from careless moments as children, about how you acquired the scars that have since helped to shape your look, or your view of life, or perhaps your opinion about a particular sport. (Strangely, more than one of these stories took place in a church sanctuary, whether running head on into a lectern, or being swung by a friend into a communion rail! The latter was my brother…) We had quite an assortment of stories, most of which were accompanied by coinciding grimaces and giggles from the listeners.

            I have to say, scar stories are some of my favorites. It is so interesting to see how someone’s scars say something about who they are, about their values, or about how they view the world. For me, many of my scars were put there intentionally by a doctor to treat some disease or another, but I have my share of careless moments evidence, too. Either way, whether life-threatening disease or childish ebullience, each of my scars is an important part of my story, a part of how I came to be the woman I am today.

            Of course I also have my share of emotional scars, experiences in which my feelings were deeply hurt, or I was betrayed, or I never quite put in the time to work through something and instead stashed it safely in a dark corner of my mind, but every once in a while it rears its ugly head and makes me behave in a way of which I’m not proud. My guess is that you also have some scars like these.

            But whether we are talking about physical or emotional scars, each scar carries with it a memory: of a lesson learned, of a challenge faced, of a time when you struggled with something and came out the other end more yourself than when you started. Scars often represent an event that brought you into who you are. Personally, I think scars are beautiful.

            Why am I talking about scars today, you may wonder? Maybe because Thomas wanted to

touch the scars on Jesus hands and side? Well yes, in part, I suppose that’s why I started down this road. You could even carry through the metaphor and say that it was by acquiring those scars that Jesus became fully who he was sent to be: the savior of the world, who bears our sin unto death and brings us into new life (even as he continues to bear our scars for us).

Yeah that could be it, but that’s not actually what I had in mind. No today, I was thinking about how scars and doubts are sort of similar. Today we hear the story everyone has for generations labeled the story of “Doubting Thomas.” Now, I could spend some time defending Thomas, because I believe he gets a bad wrap. After all, it was the other 10 disciples who, even after they saw Jesus alive, even after they saw proof that Christ is risen, still fearfully locked themselves away in the upper room! And yet Thomas gets the bad reputation! Just saying… But for now, let’s just go with the doubting Thomas thing, and the thought that this is a story about moving from doubt to belief.  

            So let me ask you something: who here has ever doubted anything? (Get those hands up!) Yeah, we’ve all had our doubts at some time or another. Okay, a little more personal question: who here has ever doubted God? Not necessarily doubted God’s existence, though perhaps that. But I mean doubted God’s methods. Or doubted that God is really love if this thing is happening to you or someone close to you. Or doubted that God was really there with you in the darkest moment of your life. These are the sorts of doubts that terrify, frustrate, and anger us, the sort that really have the ability to shake our very foundations. I have had them, and I bet you have too, at some point or another.

            A friend of mine tells a story about her former pastor. While he was serving her church, the pastor had a massive heart attack. When he told the congregation about the experience later, he said, “But you know? As I rode in that ambulance to the hospital, I never feared, not for a moment, because I knew God would take care of me.” And my friend thought, “You didn’t fear for even a moment? Then how can you possibly understand what I experience in my toughest times?!”

Well, as your pastor, I will tell you: I have feared, and I have doubted. I have been Doubting Thomas, wanting to see some proof that what I would really like to be true is in fact true. I have been Thomas the realist, understanding that as much as I’d like something to be true, I have to be realistic

if I want to be able to get on with my life. I have even been the other 10 disciples, locked in the upper room out of fear – even after I have seen that my fears are unfounded, even after I have seen the proof.

            I have feared and I have doubted, and I’m sure you have too, BUT – and this is important – I do not see either of these things as a lapse of faith. Just like those scar stories I talked about earlier, the stories of the times I have feared and doubted are now a part of who I am. They are testaments to the woman of faith I have become. When I think about times when I have doubted, especially doubted God, they are not pleasant memories. Usually the doubt was brought on by some tragedy in my life. But it was in allowing myself to consider that doubt, to sit with it and grapple with it, and maybe even to fear it a little – it was this that ultimately made my faith stronger. Like a bone that grows stronger in the place where it was broken, my faith has grown stronger in the places where it once was broken. Doubts are the scar stories of my faith.

            Well, I can rationalize and theologize doubt and fear all I want, but I also know from experience that hindsight doesn’t always help the struggle of right now. Many of you may currently be in the midst of creating what will become your doubt scar, and me telling you it’s better on the other end doesn’t take away the pain and confusion of right now. But doubting Thomas isn’t all there is to this story. The real word of grace happens before Thomas even makes an appearance.

You see at the beginning there, where the terrified disciples have locked themselves in a room, away from the world, away from the fear. We know that even though Jesus appears to them that day, the very next week they were back up there in that locked room, still fearful. So their fear was deep and complex, and I wouldn’t be surprised, even though Thomas gets the official title of

“doubter,” if all the disciples were doubting in some way or another. But both times that they were so deep in grief, doubt, and fear, both times that they could not, despite evidence that Jesus was alive, move beyond those fears and into the lives that Jesus had urged them to live… both times, Jesus came to them. Jesus came through the doors that were locked with the intention of keeping out reality, Jesus came into their fearful, doubtful midst and said, “Peace be with you.” Not, “You’re terrible disciples,” not, “You schmucks, why did you desert me?” But, “Peace be with you. I still send you to do my work. I still give you the Holy Spirit. I still believe you can do it. Peace be with you.”

These words, “peace be with you,” are salve on our wounds. They are healing words, words of promise, to the aching, confused, hearts of those who doubt, those who fear. They are words that assure us that no matter how doubtful, or fearful, or realistic, or sarcastic, or wounded we are, God’s promise of new life and surpassing peace are still for us. Perhaps they are especially for us – words of grace spoken by a savior who, even in his resurrection, bears the scars of our sin in his own body so that we might have the peace and the courage and the confidence to become the disciples that God intended for us to be.

Let us pray… Wounded healer, you bear the sins of the world in your own body. When we doubt, grant us peace. When we fear, grant us peace. When we are at a loss of where to go and what to do next, grant us peace, so that in all we do, we will remember that because Christ died, we shall live. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.