Acts 2.14a, 22-32; 1 Peter 1.3-9; John 20.19-31

Why do we believe in some things and not in others?

If I were to tell you that as I was writing this sermon yesterday morning I looked out of the window and saw a flying saucer on my lawn, out of which three funny little green men appeared, who frightened the guinea pigs, and caused the dog to bark and the cats to flee, you’d probably not believe me.

But, if I tell you that yesterday afternoon I went to the cinema and saw a really great film, you might be more likely to believe me.

And if I then ask you to believe that I am currently in Buckland church, leading a service and at this moment preaching a sermon, you would, I hope, definitely believe me.

The first of those three scenes - the one that you would be least likely to believe - sounds a little far-fetched. Seeing little green men walking on the lawns of Barkway is something that really does not happen in the normal sphere of life. I can pretty much guarantee that it’s not an experience anyone in church this morning has ever had.

As for my trip to the cinema, I wonder how many of you believed in that. In fact, it was not true. I spent yesterday preparing for today’s service and then visiting people, some following funerals for a member of their family, and some more general parish visiting.

But I guess that more of you were ready to believe that I had been to the cinema than that I had seen aliens. Going to the cinema is something that people do as part of life in the 21st century.

It’s an experience to which most people can relate, and it certainly doesn’t sound far-fetched to say that I’d spent yesterday doing that.

Perhaps, if you’d stopped to think a bit more, you might have remembered that Saturdays are a working day for me, so perhaps a little unlikely that I’d taken an afternoon off to see a film, but not beyond the bounds of possibility, especially as one of the busiest weeks in my working calendar has just ended.

As for me leading a service this morning in Buckland church, I’m sure that is something in which you all believe. Why do you believe that? Because you are experiencing that for yourself. You are sitting here in Buckland church, listening - or not - to my sermon. You will have already heard me welcome you, give the notices, announce the hymns, and so on.

Thomas just could not believe initially in the risen Christ. We’ve no idea where he was that Sunday evening, but we do know that he wasn’t with the others when Jesus appeared to them. But it’s not necessarily surprising that he struggled to believe them. Dead people just don’t come back to life. He’d clearly forgotten about Lazarus, whom Jesus had raised earlier in his ministry.

I can’t believe that, Thomas was thinking. Dead people do not come back to life again. That is not part of the experience of normal life. I need proof.

To ask for proof is a natural thing to do when we are faced with something that we do not believe. Proof, after all, is what will change our mind. If I had managed to bring with me to church this morning one of the little green men whom I claim to have seen, more of you may have believed the story.

So, Thomas’s declaration that he would only believe if he could see and touch the risen Christ for himself, is understandable. It shows a lack of trust on his part in those who told him they had seen the Lord, but they were telling him something extraordinary. The stranger something appears to be, perhaps the more proof we feel we need.

When Thomas had the proof he needed, he was quick to acknowledge Christ as God.

An orphaned boy was living with his grandmother when their house caught fire. The grandmother, trying to get upstairs to rescue the boy, died in the flames.

The boy’s cries for help were finally answered by a man who climbed an iron drain pipe and came back down with the boy hanging tightly to his neck.

Several weeks later, a public hearing was held to determine who would receive custody of the child. A farmer, a teacher, and the town’s wealthiest citizen all gave the reasons why they felt they should be chosen to give the boy a home. But as they talked, the lad’s eyes remained focused on the floor.

Then a stranger walked to the front and slowly took his hand from his pockets, revealing severe scars on them. As the crowd gasped, the boy cried out in recognition. This was the man who had saved his life.

His hands had been burned when he climbed the hot pipe. With a leap the boy threw his arms around the man’s neck and held on for dear life.

The other men silently walked away, leaving the boy and his rescuer alone.

Those scarred hands had settled the issue.

It was a similar experience for Thomas. True recognition came when he saw the scarred hands and side of the one who loved him more than anyone else.

The scarred hands and side of love.

The resurrection did not remove the wounds of Jesus, it only transformed them.

And that’s great news for us. It means that the resurrected Jesus is still aware of human frailty and sin. Its marks remain on his body.

Those marks draw us. They remain proof of what Jesus went through for us, proof of his love.

A composer writes music, but it only takes on true meaning when players play it. A clock maker designs and builds a beautiful clock, but it only tells the time when the owner winds it up and sets it correctly - or in this day and age - changes the battery.
God has already done the hard work of the Gospel in raising Jesus to life, but in this world it lives through us. We have to live out that resurrection life, and we’re given the Holy Spirit in order to do that.

It was the coming of the Holy Spirit that changed the disciples from a frightened bunch of people into a powerhouse of orators, witnesses, proclaimers of the resurrection - as we heard in the extract from Peter’s speech in our first reading today.

I’m not convinced that Jesus’s words to Thomas “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” are a rebuke as many see them. Rather, I think they are encouragement to those of us who are not able to see Jesus with our eyes. 

John tells us that that’s why he’s written his Gospel, so that we may believe. His story started with that amazing prologue “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.”

Now, here at the end of his Gospel we’ve come full circle - Thomas is explicitly naming Jesus as God.

The wounds in his side show that it is the same Jesus, the one who was crucified who has been raised, not some new model or replacement without defects. It’s the Jesus who has suffered who is now alive that Thomas recognises as God.

Because the risen Jesus is also the wounded Jesus, we can be sure that when we face troubles and grief, he will walk through them with us as he walked through his own suffering. He will not leave us to battle alone.

Because of his wounds, we can receive healing and forgiveness.

Because of the resurrection we can know that this world with its troubles is not the end.

God’s life is open to all of us. We don’t have to be free of hurt or sin or perfect in all our ways for that resurrection life to be with us. Thomas believed once he had experienced the risen Christ for himself. Because of the Holy Spirit, that is something that we too can do. We can’t see Jesus in person, but we can experience his risen life.

Jesus didn’t condemn Thomas for his lack of faith; he gave him the opportunity to find the proof he needed. It’s an encouraging story for us too. Thomas asked for the proof - Jesus offered it to him. If we ask for the life of the Holy Spirit to be with us, Jesus will grant that gift.

The resurrection means that the living presence of the risen Jesus in our lives each day is something we can experience. We saw in our first reading how it inspired Peter in his witness. It can inspire us too, if we allow ourselves to be open to its work.

The life of the Spirit in the world is, if we need it, the proof for us of the risen Christ. “Blessed are those who have not seen yet have come to believe. Our blessing includes the gift of the Holy Spirit, the gift of the risen Christ dwelling within us and around us.

Christ is risen. He is risen indeed. Alleluia.