Tears burned the backs of their eyes as the two women carefully picked their way along the path. The tears were not a surprise. Crying and sighing were what they did now. What they had been doing for the past two days. Nearly all they had been doing. Sleep eluded them. Rest evaded them. Peace had long since fled. Horrific scenes from the Friday hours flashed through their minds in vivid detail. It was all they could think about. All their broken hearts could feel. Jesus, bruised and bloody. Jesus, hanging on a cross like a common criminal. Jesus–their Savior, Healer, Teacher, Friend–painfully lifting His shattered body to force out His last breath and speak His final words. Words that echoed in their minds even this morning as they walked up to His tomb. Words that seemed to end the story. “It is finished.”
It wasn’t the first time Mary Magdalene and “the other” Mary had been to this place. Sitting on a large rock facing the tomb, they had watched as the men wrapped Jesus’ body in burial cloths and carefully laid Him in the dark, coldness of the cave. Then they hoped something would happen. A miracle like Lazarus. A healing like Jairus’ daughter. Something visible. Something tangible. Something, anything to restore sight to their faith. Nothing happened. No lightning bolts. No earthquakes. No sudden exodus from the tomb. As the sun began to journey toward the western horizon, the women were forced to gather the remains of their tattered faith, end their vigil, and head home for the Sabbath.
For so long their faith had been sight. It was based on the living, breathing, physical presence of Jesus. They had spent time in His presence. Walked with Him. Talked with Him. Watched Him perform nearly unbelievable miracles right before their very eyes. Miraculous healing. Amazing deliverance. Stunning resurrections. They knew He forgave sins. All sins. Great sins. Ugly sins. Their sins. They had sat at His feet as He taught, drinking in His words, somehow knowing that in those words, through this Man, they would find eternal life. They knew He was more than just another guy. He was Jesus. God’s Son. Messiah. Their faith firmly held to that belief. It was easy–so long as He was right there with them. But Jesus wasn’t there anymore. He had breathed His last, and kind men had placed Him in the tomb. The place they were headed as the first streaks of dawn lit the eastern sky on the third day. The place their faith had lost its sight.
Not that they didn’t have any faith left. They did. Meager. Tiny. Struggling. Hopeful but doubting. That was why they made this trek in the first place. Hope. Hope in the promise of Jesus that He would rise again. Hope that their faith in His word would become sight. Because their faith wasn’t as robust as it used to be. Without the tangible presence of Jesus, their faith had become scared and worried. Fearful of the future. Filled with a flurry of “What if…” questions. What if death held Him? What if He didn’t rise again? What if He was just another guy traveling around doing good works? What if He wasn’t really the Son of God? What if their faith, now without sight, had been misplaced all along?
Ending their silent, thoughtful trek at the front of the tomb, the women looked for a way to remove the stone door. It was huge. They were not. The guards would be disinclined to help. They would have to improvise. Except they wouldn’t. Unexpectedly, a violent earthquake shook the ground, and an angel appeared. He rolled back the stone and perched at the top. Then he spoke to them. To the women. Those women. Females deemed inferior by society. Humans who gained little respect. People judged barely worthwhile. The angel spoke to them. First. Before informing the disciples. Before letting the religious leaders know their efforts had failed. Before shouting to the world that Christ was risen, the angel spoke to some insignificant women to say, “Don’t be afraid.” Don’t let your fear overcome your faith simply because you don’t see Him and can’t speak to Him. Jesus isn’t here. He has risen. Just like He said He would. And the women believed, even when they couldn’t see.
When they couldn’t hear His voice, touch His hand, or see His face, Mary Magdalene and her friend Mary believed. Without definitive proof. Without a note on the stone slab. Without a message written in the sand. He hadn’t left a stray sandal, the linens tied in a special knot, or a bouquet of flowers inside the cave. There was nothing to prove Jesus had risen and not simply been stolen by some mischievous miscreants. There was nothing to indicate the angel’s message was true. But they believed. Without a note, a token of appreciation, or anything tangible to show the others, the girls headed out to share this exceptional news. Faith without sight. (Matthew 27:57-28:10)
It’s a difficult lesson to learn. Faith without palpable proof, preset notions, or predetermined parameters. Faith, when we can’t see even one step ahead. Faith, when the outlook is so bleak, so awful, so terrifying we feel panic rise to claw at the back of our throats. Faith, when our efforts are futile. Faith, when all we can do is wait. Faith to believe God is working and keeping His promises even when we can’t see the progress. It’s the hardest type of faith to have. It always has been. Ask Thomas.
He wouldn’t believe without sight. No matter what the women witnessed. Regardless what the other disciples had experienced. Thomas wasn’t about to take someone else’s word that Jesus had truly risen from the grave. Not because He didn’t believe Jesus was the Messiah. He did. Thomas knew Jesus was God Incarnate. He believed that. What he didn’t know, what he refused to believe without proof, was that Jesus had risen from the dead and made appearances to His followers. Thomas wouldn’t believe it. Not at all. Not until his predetermined criteria had been met. He needed to see it. And more. He needed to touch Him. Trace the nail scars with his fingers. Stick his hand in the wound on Jesus’ side. The faith he maintained while Jesus was alive faltered with the sight of Jesus on the cross. Without the visible, living, breathing Lord beside him, Thomas wasn’t sure he could regain his faith at all. Not without sight.
Gathered together in a locked room, Thomas and the other disciples hid, fearing persecution, unsure what their next steps should be. It had been a week since Jesus appeared to the others. Thomas had missed that event. He didn’t know where that left him. Did Jesus value the others more? Were they more lovable? Were they just better people that Jesus would do for them, but not for him? He wasn’t certain where he stood now, what he believed, if he believed. His heart hurt. His thoughts swirled. He just didn’t think his faith could be restored without sight. Into his silent agonizing, Jesus came. Spoke directly to Thomas. Invited him to come, touch the nail scars. Feel the ridges of healed flesh over the spear scar. See, feel, know that Jesus had kept His word. To the other disciples. To Thomas. To everyone. Jesus had risen. Just as He promised. Here was the proof. Here was the sight his faith had lost. (John 20:24-28)
How familiar is Thomas’ story! We have all been there. Not necessarily concerning the resurrection of Jesus Christ, but the million other burdens and cares we are completely impotent to heal. Not always is our sightless faith rewarded quickly or in a tangible way. We often can’t see the hand of God working behind the ugly scenes of our lives. In the mess of the goings on around us, when we are lost in pain and frustration and fear, we frequently hear the mocking voice of the enemy saying to us the exact things the religious leaders said about Jesus as He hung dying on the cross. If God loves us, finds us precious, if we mean anything to Him at all, He would surely swoop down and rescue us from our current situation. The religious leaders said it because they wanted one of two things–to be proven correct, that Jesus wasn’t the Messiah, or given sight to produce faith. If Jesus suddenly came down off the cross, healed and whole, they would believe. But that’s not how it works. Not for them then. Not for us now. Even Jesus, after showing Himself to Thomas, indicated it wouldn’t always be that way. He wouldn’t always offer a physical, visible sight on which to place our faith. But He promised this, “Blessed are those who choose to have faith without sight.” (John 20:29; Matthew 27:43)
That’s you and me, friend. We haven’t seen God. We haven’t physically sat at Jesus’ feet and listened to Him teach. We haven’t felt the actual touch of His hand in healing or saving or helping. I wish we could. It would make faith so much easier. Faith in God’s power and ability comes so much easier when we are actively watching Him work out our issues. When things are going well and worries are few, it is easy to have soaring faith and believe God can do anything, will do everything, will work out His good plan for each of us. But. When the reduction in force hits, the bloodwork is poor, the bank account is negative, and the car battery is dead, faith is difficult. So difficult. When we can’t see how God is going to work things out, our now sightless faith crumples. Our fear overtakes us. When we can’t see God moving or doing or helping, it feels like He isn’t. The evil one whispers He’s not. He says if God loved or cared about us these things wouldn’t be happening. And, in that moment, when our faith can’t find sight on which to rest, it feels like he must certainly be right. (Hebrews 11:1; Romans 8:24-25)
Don’t you believe that! It’s not true. At all. Never has been. Just because the women didn’t see Jesus walk out of the tomb didn’t mean someone stole Him away. Just because Thomas wasn’t there the first time Jesus appeared to the disciples didn’t mean He wasn’t alive. Just because Jesus didn’t step off the cross whole and healed didn’t mean God didn’t love Him or take pleasure in His Son. Just because their faith suddenly lost the physical sight of Jesus didn’t mean His followers had misplaced their devotion. Quite the opposite. Their faith was all the more necessary now that Jesus wasn’t physically among them. So is yours.
In uncertain times of worry and fear, when things go pear-shaped and it feels like we are trapped in the crazy scenes of a disastrous film, our faith often loses the sight on which it relied. We can’t see God working. We don’t feel Him moving. We don’t know if He’s going to come through or not. Our faith flickers and starts to go out. But. Know this. Just because you have nothing tangible to see or hold doesn’t mean God isn’t busy. He is. God is constantly working on behalf of His children. Whether you see it or not, you can rest in it. Believe it. It’s always been true. From the days the Israelites were crying out for deliverance from Egypt to this day, when you are crying out for help and hope in your current situation, God has been working all things for the good of His children. Whether you can see His hand moving or not. Whether He is meeting your preset parameters or not. Whether it happens the way you hoped or not. God is working. You can trust Him. Even when your faith loses sight. (Mark 11:22-23; John 14:1; Romans 8:28; Jeremiah 29:11; Psalm 9:10; 37:1-40; Philippians 4:6, 19; Matthew 6:25-34)
Oh how we need this reminder often! Thank you dear friend, you know HE will work out your situation as well, as well as mine! GOD Bless and keep you always in HIS care!