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Sermons

"THOMAS" - A "FIRST PERSON" DRAMATIC MONOLOGUE
based upon John 20:24-28 and other scriptures

by Pastor Dave Ring
to be delivered at LOS ALAMOS
FIRST UNITED METHODIST CHURCH
on SUNDAY MORNING, MARCH 9, 2008

SCRIPTURE TEXT: John 20:24-28 (NIV) -- 24Now Thomas (called Didymus), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came. 25So the other disciples told him, "We have seen the Lord!" But he said to them, "Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe it." 26A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you!" 27Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe." 28Thomas said to him, "My Lord and my God!"

MESSAGE: I am Thomas. Some knew me as Thomas the twin brother of Matthew. Others recognized me as Thomas the disciple of Jesus. But you think of me, likely as not, as "doubting Thomas," the symbol of reluctance to believe for all Christians. But I don't mind, not a bit!
You see, I was always as doubter, a questioner, a seeker of truth. Even as a small child, I can remember that I was never really interested in the fairy tales and legends that my playmates thought so real and exciting. For I saw right through such fantasies. I was the kid who deliberately burned his hand on the stove-three times in the same day-for I didn't want to accept that it could hurt me on the slim evidence of only one try at it. I got three spankings that day, too, which proved something else important to me. Mothers are not to be trifled with.
But enough of that, I know what you really want to hear from me! You want to hear about Jesus! And I'll tell you-gladly! I remember the first time I heard about Jesus. Some old man from a neighboring village was talking about a new prophet who was preaching to large crowds in the Judean hills. Said his name was Jesus. The old man thought this new prophet might be God's promised Messiah.

I only chuckled, cynically. We Israelites had been fooled too often. Prophet after prophet-false Messiah after false Messiah-had roused our people into a frenzy-only to disappear from sight in six months or a year! God's promises were old and dry-frayed at the edges. Other nations had enslaved us for countless generations. This new ""Messiah"-Jesus-would be like all the rest-a flash in the pan-lifting the hopes of a few of the more feeble-minded only to see them dashed again. I had better sense! I wasn't going to get caught up in such utter foolishness! Jesus! So what!?
I didn't hear much more about this Jesus for quite a few months thereafter. In fact, I guess I wasn't really interested in hearing about anybody except me. I was trying to plan my own future-my career-and was having quite a problem with it all. For I was interested in so many things-but in every place I started to put down some roots, I found people full of hypocrisy. I started to apprentice with a baker, but discovered that he constantly misrepresented the quality of his bread to customers. Then I tried…well, you don't want to hear about all that. Finally, I decided to visit awhile with my twin brother, Matthew. Matthew and I had never gotten along very well-especially after he went over to the side of Israel's "enemy"-tax collecting for our oppressors, the Romans. But at least he had a reputation for honesty-and I thought a few weeks at his house might give me time to get myself sorted out.

Matthew wasn't all that wildly ecstatic about my visiting with him-but I knew him well enough to be certain that hew would never turn his own brother away. We had some angry arguments the first few nights I was there. He felt himself to be a supremely practical man, and saw me as an unrealistic idealist. He kept saying we ought to make the best of life in the world as it was, while I always argued for changing this rotten world around completely. But we tolerated each other-barely!

I guess I'd been there about a week. One morning, having nothing else to do, I wandered over to Matthew's tax collection booth, and was just standing around, doing very little, gossiping with passersby. A crowd of people moved down the street, milling about someone I couldn't see. "What is it?" I called out-and several children ran over and shouted-"Jesus is coming." Jesus? Who's that?-and then I remembered. That new "prophet." So I was going to get a glimpse of the latest popular fanatic. This might be an interesting morning after all. "Hey-you-Jesus! Come over here!"

I don't know if he heard me or not-but, suddenly, he was standing right in front of Matthew's booth. And everyone in the crowd grew unusually quiet. He looked me up and down-with eyes that…--I've never seen anyone who looked at me like that…as though He saw right through to the very centre of my being. But then, saying nothing, He turned to my brother, Matthew. After the same searching look, He said to Matthew-quietly but firmly-the strangest thing. "Follow me"-that's what Jesus said. "Follow me"-that's all-nothing else. But stranger still-my brother got up and started to obey Him-as though He had some sort of great authority or power. And in that moment, I felt as though I had missed something important-something I didn't really understand-but my only thought then was not to be left alone-to be left behind. If this Jesus thought my brother worthy of His attention then, certainly, I ought to be included as well. So I began walking along behind them-as part of the crowd that trailed after Jesus. A few paces along, Jesus glanced back over His shoulder, and again I felt that my entire soul was laid bare by His momentary, searching glance. Still-He said nothing-but gave only a half-smile-then turned to face forward again.

Looking back on this-I know it sounds odd to you as I relate it-but if you had been there, I think you would understand. We walked through three villages that day-crowds gathered about Jesus at every one of them-and He said very little to them. But a crippled woman hobbled up to Him that day-and ran away waving her cane in the air, praising God! We were stopped once by a group of Roman soldiers-I thought we were in for trouble-but Jesus only talked briefly with their captain-and that soldier rode away, confident that his dying daughter would live because Jesus had said so.
That night-when we finally stopped to make camp-I was bone-tired, but so full of questions that I felt I couldn't wait another minute to talk to Jesus. I'd seen things all day that looked like miracles-cripples walked, the blind saw, little children praised God-what did it all mean? Were they tricks-was Jesus a magician, a sorcerer? What kind of man was this? I was afraid of Him-but somehow strangely attracted at the same time.

Eight or more of those who seemed to know Him best encircled Him and kept me away from close contact for a while-but finally I could stand it no longer. I elbowed my way past them, and stood over in front of Him as He sat. "Jesus! Who are you? What are you trying to do? Who sent you? Why are you here?" For the third time that day His eyes looked up to meet mine, and again I felt that strange penetrating gaze go through my whole being. "Who do you think that I am, Thomas?" was His only reply. "I don't know Jesus. You confuse me."-was all I could think to say. All my words-all my questions-suddenly left me. "Thomas?"-Jesus smiled a bit this time-"Come-listen-stay-and see!" Then He turned back, talking with the others.

Days passed-then weeks-then months-always we kept moving-town to town-village to village-I saw a thousand odd occurrences-maybe miracles-once even a dead man walked out of a tomb at Jesus' command. I heard a hundred thousand give glory to God. Occasionally, Jesus paused to teach them: "The meek shall inherit the earth; blessed are those who are persecuted." By then, I thought He had to be a messenger of God-of some sort. But He obviously couldn't be the Messiah-His teachings were concerned with everything except the overthrow of our oppressors and the restoration of Israel's greatness.

At night, when we camped, I would try to question Him down-ask Him to interpret His stories and parables-to come straight out and say what He was all about. For a little while, Judas and Simon joined me in trying to make Jesus give straight answers. The others of His close followers, including my brother Matthew, seemed to accept His every word without question. After a time, only I was left to argue-and every time I would begin to question Jesus, I would receive that same powerful, soul-searching look of His-and He would turn my questions back at me. He seemed more interested that I understand me than that I satisfy my curiosity about Him.

I had been traveling with Jesus almost two years, and still I was very unsure of what was happening. By then, He was widely regarded as God's promised Messiah, and huge crowds followed us wherever we traveled. Slowly but surely, however, Jesus' thoughts and utterances seemed to change. As the crowds grew larger-and when He should have had every reason to rejoice-why, He had the makings of an army at His command-He began to speak less positively. He talked of betrayal-and of impending death. I tried to cheer Him up-to convince Him that soon we would have an army large enough to defeat all Rome. I told Him I was ready to die, if necessary to help Him lead our nation to freedom. (John 11:16) But He only gave me that same searching look-and said He had a different mission to fulfill.

That last week in Jerusalem was a jumbled mess for me. Crowds pushing and shoving-noise-soldiers, shouting. When Jesus threw the money-changers out of God's temple that morning, it caught me completely by surprise. Was He now ready to fight for our freedom? But no! He only retired quietly to a friend's house. And that supper-in the Upper Room-all that talk about His body being broken and His shed blood-were we yet going to raise up an army for battle?
The Romans caught us all by surprise-all, perhaps, except Jesus-in Gethsemane that night. "Run!-hide!-We can yet live to fight another day!" -I called out to Jesus as I began to run-but He only stood there-and willingly, it seemed, let them lead Him away.

For the next four days I hid, alone, in a cave just outside Jerusalem. I could hear from the conversations of passersby what was happening. Jesus had been tried and convicted of some sort of charge-and was to be crucified. Who was He? Where did He come from? What would happen now? And then-I heard that He was dead-that the crucifixion had been carried out. A spear, also, had been stuck through His side. He was very dead.

Well-I was crazy to have let myself be taken in by one of those false "Messiahs." I had wasted more than two years of my life following after this strange man-Jesus. Strange He was-but not strange enough. He had succumbed to the common fate of us all-death. An odd teacher-a minor healer or sorcerer-but certainly no Messiah. God had cheated Israel again-and I had foolishly allowed myself to be caught up in it all.

A few days later, when the furor had died down, I cautiously crept back into the city by night. I accidentally met up with several of Jesus' old band-and was about to try to get away without them seeing me, when Matthew called out-"Thomas!" I stopped.-"Thomas-Jesus is alive!" "Right, Matthew! And so is Noah and Moses, and Aaron, and Jeremiah, and Isaiah. And so is our mother, who died ten years ago. And you're inviting me to a party to visit with all of them, right?" "No, Thomas-we've seen Jesus-He's alive-real-in the flesh-He's conquered death itself! "No, thanks, fellows. I've spent the last two years of my life believing in a fairy tale-thinking that God was ready to redeem us all through Jesus. I'm back to reality, now! Unless I can see Him, touch Him, and feel His wounds from that cross, Jesus is dead for me."

I guess I let curiosity get the better of me-or was it maybe a lingering spark of hope that I wouldn't even admit to myself? But I stayed on with them, if only to find out why the other disciples were convinced of a new fantasy about Jesus.

A week later, we were eating-and suddenly-out of nowhere-there was Jesus. Or was it only someone made up to look like Him? "Thomas! Come here-see-touch-feel my scars-stop doubting, and believe! Who am I, Thomas? Who am I?" I saw-I felt-I touched those nail scars. "My Lord and My God!"

Yes, I'm "doubting" Thomas. And I suppose Christians will always remember me as that. I had to be sure about Jesus. And now I am. My doubts are satisfied. Do you have doubts about Jesus Christ? Take it from Thomas, who made "doubting" a byword for all time. Jesus Christ is the Son of the Living God.-the key to life-now and forever-for us all. Amen, and amen!

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