Doubting Thomas Saved My Life

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By JMathis

I owe my life to Doubting Thomas.

Many historians say, that after being transformed by the life of Jesus, Doubting Thomas traveled to the southern tip of India and spread the word of the Gospel there. It was then that Christianity in India was birthed.

In a land that is over 80% Hindu and 13% Muslim, I come from a lineage of Christians who claim that their spiritual roots can be traced back to these early St. Thomas conversions. Only 2% of the entirety of India is Christian, and I come from that lucky few.

Lucky? Actually, no. Humbled, yes, and brought-down-to-my-knees grateful, that Doubting Thomas didn’t remain a doubter.

This is me speculating, of course, but I don’t think Thomas was always a doubter. I bet the instant Thomas heard Jesus’ message, he knew that this was someone very, very special–someone absolutely worth abandoning his fisherman’s day-job, and someone worth following to the utter ends of the earth.

In many ways, Thomas reminds me of me. It is in my personality and nature for me to believe very easily, fall in love easily, and give you the benefit of the doubt easily. I am not a born skeptic, but rather, one who immediately sees the good in people.

However, it’s not so easy for me to stay that way once the chips fall. When things get shaky, uncertain and scary, that is when my heart fills with doubt. Why did I trust this person? Why did I believe him? Why did I think she knew what she was talking about? Once that doubt hits, I am outta of that situation. I mentally check out of that relationship, friendship or course in life, and I don’t look back.

Thomas could have been like me. The second he heard that Jesus had died, I’m sure he was flooded with thoughts like, “Did I just leave my steady paycheck for a guy that ended up dying at the age of 33?” “Was Jesus a criminal like the Pharisees claim? Maybe he really was here just to stir up trouble.” “What about all the promises that Jesus made? I thought I was going to be part of a “kingdom” where I was going to help “King Jesus” overtake the corrupt leadership of this land, so I could finally be rich, powerful and famous!” With thoughts like these, it would have been so easy for Thomas to say, “Well, I guess Jesus was a good friend while he was here, but dead is dead. The guy’s dead. Gotta move on with my life.”

That would have been my cue to get out of there. And fast. I would have said, “If this guy is alive, he better show his face, and with all the works—the bruises, wounds, holes in the hands, holes in the feet—the whole shebang. In the meantime, I need to make up for all the time I lost in the past three years just hanging around, listening to a lot of nice, but useless stories that I didn’t even understand.”

Maybe Jesus knew this about Thomas and all of the other disciples, and that’s why he reappeared in front of the disciples just one last time right before ascending into heaven. Maybe he knew that Thomas was just vocalizing what everyone else was thinking—“I need to see it with my own eyes, if Jesus is really living, breathing and truly risen from the dead.”

Or, maybe he came back just for Thomas.

Jesus could have easily ascended directly into heaven, leaving Thomas behind in a world of doubt, confusion and eventual disbelief. But, just like the parable of the one lost sheep (Luke 15: 1-7), maybe he came back just for Thomas.

And, do you know why? Because that was in Jesus’ personality and nature—to turn around and reach out, even to just one lost sheep. One little, whiny, dazed and confused, lost sheep. And, why? So that once that sheep’s life was changed, that same sheep would go out and tell all of the remaining sheep, that Jesus was the kind of person who went out of his way, to save the inconsequential life of one lost sheep.

Thomas didn’t stop being a doubter just because he suddenly came to his senses, or became enlightened. Thomas stopped being a doubter because Christ in his risen form, came to Thomas personally and showed Thomas his bruises, wounds, holes in the hands, holes in the feet—the whole shebang.

Was Thomas lucky? No. He was probably humbled, and brought-down-to-his-knees grateful, that Jesus made one final pit-stop so that foolish, silly Doubting Thomas wouldn’t remain a doubter. Humbled, and brought-down-to-his-knees grateful, that Jesus delayed seeing his Father, just to go after one lost sheep like him.

It took seeing the bruises, wounds, holes in the hands, holes in the feet—the whole shebang, for Thomas to believe. Once he believed, his life was transformed and he felt compelled to tell the world about Jesus and to fulfill The Great Commission—even to places like the uttermost parts of the earth…places like India, where it is almost statistically impossible to not be Hindu.

What are you waiting for? Are you waiting to see the bruises, wounds, holes in the hands, holes in the feet—the whole shebang, for you to believe? What will it take for you to follow Jesus’ example, and reach out to that one lost soul?

Don’t stay a Doubting Thomas. If Thomas had remained a doubter, I wouldn’t be writing this to you today.

Am I a follower of Jesus today because I am just lucky?

No.

It’s because Jesus made one final pit-stop for Thomas, which changed Thomas’ life in such a radical, life-transforming way, that Thomas went into the most remote regions of the world to reach out to one of my great-great-great greats.

Jesus made one final pit-stop just for me. Am I lucky? No. Just humbled and brought-down-to-my-knees grateful.

The Courage to Fight for a Marriage

By JMathis

So this year, I’m working on my marriage.

Honestly, this sounds about as appetizing to me as a root canal, or worse yet, an appointment with the “gyno doc”.

It’s just that it was one of those things that I never had to do before, and so, I never learned how to do it—much like parallel parking. For so long, married life was relatively smooth, effortless and easy, all to the tune of some cool, sultry bossa nova. Lazy weekends of sleeping in, taking naps, giggling, making pancakes, eating pancakes, goofing off, going out with friends, staying in and cuddling…days spent just loving and being loved. For close to six blissful years, our biggest problems were: Pottery Barn or Crate and Barrel? Beach or a bike ride? Sushi or Thai?

Whenever I heard about people who had marital problems, I shrugged it off thinking, “It must be that she married the wrong guy.”

Then, the kid came.

A Category 5 hurricane shooting magical fairy dust, leaving lovesick victims and casualties in her wake. A Nor’easter that violently blankets the world with a deluge of snow, but whose pure beauty beckons you to make memorable snow angels in its aftermath.

Overnight, marriage became work. Not work like, “Hey, would you like for me to add an echinacea boost to your Berry Berry Yummo Smoothie Blast?” But more like work on a chain gang—drawn faces, raccoon eyes, orange jumpsuits sweatpants:

“That’s not how you sterilize a bottle!! What are you, an idiot?”

“I haven’t left the house in 3 weeks, and you’re planning a boys’ weekend?”

It was actually hard to remember that there once was a time where there was no fighting. Now, every minor thing was elevated to critical mass, with all guns blazing.

“Dirty diapers don’t go in the %^$#@* trash! They go in the Diaper Genie™!”

“If you keep letting her sleep in our bed, she’ll never leave!”

“She’s two. She doesn’t need to know what orange soda tastes like, you moron!”

These parenting fights started out as trivial, but they soon erupted into full-on doozies over the division of labor, finances, sex, free time, spirituality and child-rearing. Nothing was sacred; nothing was off limits.

I was forced to eat my words. Did I marry the wrong guy, or was I letting the perfect guy slip away from me?

We were watching our marriage careen out of control while simultaneously free falling into outer space, farther and farther away from each other. We tried to psychoanalyze ourselves and attempted to intellectualize solutions for our post-baby woes. Yet, we still couldn’t shake the feeling that we were trapped in a trippy David Bowie song, with no way out.

Though I’m past one hundred thousand miles, I’m feeling very still
And I think my spaceship knows which way to go
Tell my wife I love her very much, she knows
Ground control to major Tom, your circuits dead, there’s something wrong
Can you hear me, major Tom?
Can you hear me, major Tom?
Can you hear me, major Tom?
Can you…
Here am I sitting in my tin can far above the Moon
Planet Earth is blue and there’s nothing I can do

We hung on in this purgatory for quite sometime, not sure whether our marriage was just hitting a temporary rough patch, or whether this had become our “new normal”.

Whatever it was, we finally conceded that it was too big for us to handle. We put down our pride, and instead of continuing to talk ourselves into circles, we have started praying—even praying with the help of counselors and spiritual advisors. This time, though, we are praying differently than we have in the past. We’re praying for courage. Courage to fight for this marriage, rather than to give in to forces that aim to tear us apart. Courage to ask God for directions, and admit that we lost the map. Courage to find our deeper purpose as a married couple.

Finding out that we have a “deeper purpose” is turning out to be quite the pivotal turning point for us.

Luke 12:48 (New International Version)

“…From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.”

I think for a long time, my husband and I fell into the lull of believing that we were just companions for each other—even best friends. Someone to stroll down Lincoln Road with on a balmy night, someone to catch a local folk band with at the Van Dyke, someone to grab a beer with at The Abbey to decompress over a hectic day. It didn’t really register that the way we complemented each other, was because we were specifically brought together for a much greater mission in life.

We’re starting to realize that we have been given much, much more upon the melding of our lives together. We’re beginning to understand that our destinies are tied up in one another, and those of our amazing daughter’s and her future children. We’re seeing that God needs us to stay intact, not just for each other, but for us to work together in unison in helping Him to reach out to the dying and the lost. We’re learning that putting God’s love before our own, spins us off into unknown territory that can often be scary and trying; however, with our combined faith, we’re finally learning to love at a supernatural level.

This year, I’m working on my marriage, because God is demanding more of me and my husband than to just be latte buddies. God needs him and me on the frontlines, showing love to widows, orphans, the homeless, the poor and to any and all in need of God’s restorative touch. We have been given to each other, to do even exponentially more for God than what we could ever achieve singularly, on our own. “From the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.”

This Valentine’s Day, take a minute to pray for my marriage. I’ll be praying for yours. Let’s keep ourselves accountable and focused on our respective roles in the much, much bigger picture of mankind: the eternal love story of God’s life-saving, redemptive and transformative power to all of creation.

So Much Can Change Within a Year

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By JMathis

As each year passes, I come to the realization that so much can change within a year. Triumph can turn to despair. Prosperity can turn to lack. Passion can turn to disdain. Peace can turn to chaos. There is the relief of finally receiving a job offer after months of job searching, only to be laid-off four months later. Last one in, first one out. There is the joy of a new pregnancy, followed by the anguish of delivering a stillborn child. How, God? Why? There is the glimmer in your eye when you think you have finally met ‘the one’, just to find out later that he’s trashing you as clingy and desperate at the office happy hour. I thought real men didn’t kiss and tell.

I think back to one such manic year in my life, where I felt the agonizing pain of my first, real heartbreak. I remember being sucker-punched and blindsided by him, feeling that there was no fair warning of the impending hurricane that was about to upend my days and my nights. Crying so much, I felt my core was being ripped to shreds. I envisioned that even my molecular fabric was being crushed and destroyed, cell by cell. February, for me, was the cruelest month, and every Valentine’s heart I saw on display was just a painful reminder that my own heart had been shattered and left for dead. March was the month I gave up Kleenex, since pillows were way more effective in mopping up my tears. April brought with it a blustering rainstorm where I walked three miles in the freezing rain, wheezing and praying to get hit by a car or just succumb to hypothermia.

Then one day, it was October. It was a crisp, fall morning and I distinctly remember humming show tunes from The Sound of Music. (Yes, people, you heard it here first. I am a complete sissy for The Von Trapp Family. And musicals. And Glee.)

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens,
bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens…

I remember sitting in front of my desk, lovingly stroking the keys of my computer. (I know I sound like a loon, but indulge me a bit further.) I searched for the letter ‘A’. Thank you, Lord, for my beautiful friend, Asha, whose smile warms my day.

Doe- a deer, a female deer
Ray- a drop of golden sun…

I searched for the letter ‘B’. Thank you, Lord, for bagels, especially cinnamon-raisin bagels smothered in cream cheese and strawberry jelly. I searched for the letter ‘C’. Thank you, Lord, for Christ who saved a wretch like me. And then, it went on and on, letter by letter, with my heart bursting at the seams with thankfulness over how much God loves me. Thank you, Lord, for zebras, because I can’t think of anything else that starts with ‘Z’.

I have confidence in confidence alone!
Besides which you see, I have confidence
In me!!!!!!!!!!!!

After going through the entire alphabet on my keyboard (and singing the entire Sound of Music soundtrack in my head), I realized I was a mess. Sane people just don’t gaze dreamily at letters on a keyboard. Yet, I was a good mess. Not the same mess I was months before, but the kind of warm, gushy, yummy, chocolatey mess you find in the middle of a hot, molten lava cake. The kind of mess that embarrassingly gets all over your fingers and your face, but whoa, is it heavenly. My broken heart was finally healing; not totally healed, but it was healing.

What had happened between February and October? What had changed from the beginning of the year to the end?

Resolve.

The Resolve to live and not die. The Resolve to breathe and brush my teeth every day. The Resolve to say, Lord, fix me, because I can’t. I just can’t.”

So much can change within a year. This year, let your resolutions be resolute. Resolve to resolve. Resolve to push through fear. Resolve to push through insecurity. Resolve to push through doubts. Resolve to push through anger. Resolve to push through bitterness. Resolve to push through a bad year.

re·solve (ri zälv, -zôlv)

1. To make a firm decision about. (God, I put You first this year.)

2. To change or convert. (God, make me more like You.)

3. To find a solution to; solve. (God, I know You have the answers.)

4. To remove or dispel. (God, take away anything that is not of You.)

This year, resolve to resolve. Resolve to heal. Resolve to forgive. Resolve to let go. Resolve to love. Resolve to get messy and resolve to just trust…trust in God’s life-transformative promise to you:

Jeremiah 29:11-14. For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back from captivity.

So much can change within a year.