April 18, 2004

"Do You Doubt You Can Change?"

A senior high science teacher was very zealous about her explanation of evolution, and was determined to prove to her students that God does not exist. She said, “Look out the window. Do you see God?” The kids shook their heads, no. “Look around this classroom. Is God here?” Again, the kids shook their heads. “So if you can’t see God, the logical conclusion is that God simply doesn’t exist.”

She was confident that she had won her students over. But one girl put up her hand and said, “Miss Smith, just because we can’t see it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. We could do brain surgery and examine the parts of your brain. We could even do a CAT scan and see the brain waves in your head. But we couldn’t prove that you have had a single thought today. Does that mean you haven’t had a thought today? Just because you can’t see something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

You can count on the probability that that brave girl did not make a friend in that teacher. Another thing you can count on is that attendance in church will plummet on the Sunday after Easter. There are a number of reasons for that, including the plain fact that some folks who come out on Easter visit a church only one Sunday per year. Did you ever wonder what motivates people to come to church only on Easter Sunday? I never really concerned myself with the answer too much, but as I prepared today’s message, I read a commentary that struck me.

The author wrote that many visitors on Easter look around at the people singing joyfully about how things have changed for the world because Jesus Christ rose from the dead. These people look at the world that we claim has changed, and they say, “I doubt it.”

All of us, not just the folks who only come to church on Easter, have to wake up on the Monday after Easter and face the “real” world, a world that seemingly has not changed one little bit because of what we celebrated 24 hours before. And if we’re honest about it, we will admit that we share some of the doubts that our Easter visitors feel. It’s hard to pick up the paper and read day after day about the renewed fighting in Iraq and the kidnapping of hostages. On any given day you can pick up the paper and read about people who die in car wrecks and fires, and others who are murdered, and still others who willingly enter the living death of drug addiction.

Confronted with evidence like this, it’s hard to have faith in the Easter message that “Death is swallowed up in victory.”

That’s pretty much the scenario when we look at the story of the Apostle Thomas, the one who forever will be known as Doubting Thomas. Can you imagine going through eternity with a nickname like that? It’s not a nickname to be savored, like Joltin’ Joe DiMaggio or even Blood and Guts Patton. But whenever you talk about Doubting Thomas, to be fair you have to complete the story. Thomas moved from doubt to faith. He was changed when he met the risen Christ, and so should we all be changed.

At the start of this story we meet the disciples huddled behind locked doors on Easter Sunday evening. Most of us would probably have done the same thing—hide. These men were scared. They had laid all their chips on Jesus, and lost the bet big time, they thought. When the Pharisees and Sadducees had tried to trap Jesus, the master had always made fools out of them, but now he was gone. Dead. Buried. All his enemies are now my enemies, and he is no longer there to protect me. They didn’t really want to go back to their old life, but the way forward was dark and dangerous.

But then Jesus comes among them and says “Peace with you,” and they all were filled with joy. All except Thomas, who was not there. What does that tell you? Don’t skip church, because you never know who will show up. But it also sets up Thomas to doubt the story the others told him. You know what he replied: “Unless I put my hand in his side, I will never believe.” The following Sunday Jesus returned and gave him the chance to do just that. “Put your hand in my side. Stop your doubting, and believe.” And Thomas falls on his knees and proclaims, “My Lord and my God.” He is changed.

There are three things I want to talk about on the theme of doubt and change today, and the first is the most obvious. People resist change. How many of you would be willing to admit there are certain things in your life that ought to change? For some of us, especially myself, one of the things that ought to change is our diet. We ought to drop a few pounds, or like me, a few dozen pounds. We’d be a lot better off if we did. But we resist change. We say, “It’s not my fault I’m fat. I’ve just got a gland problem.”

One of the clearest examples of people who resisted change were the Israelites who were in slavery to the Egyptians. God sent Moses—the same Moses who was wanted on a murder charge in Egypt—to lead them out of their miserable lives to the promised land. Except that they don’t really want to be rescued. They fight Moses every step of the way. One of my favorite big epic pictures was on TV recently, “The 10 Commandments.” One of the stars of the picture is Edward G. Robinson as an Israelite put in charge over the slaves, kind of a turncoat.

He does his best to stir up trouble for Moses, like when Pharaoh’s army chases the Israelites into the desert, and they’re all terrified, and Robinson gets up and yells, “Where’s your Moses now.” Of course, God saves them, but there’s plenty more complaining ahead. When the people are hungry, they complain, and God gives them food. When they are thirsty, he gives them water. But then they make it to the promised land, and Moses sends in 12 spies to check out the enemy. Ten of the 12 come back with stories about the giants who live in the land and say, “We’ll never defeat them.”

But two of the dozen spies, Joshua and Caleb, report, “Hey we can take these guys, with God’s help.”

Of course, the people get all bent out of shape again. “Oh, we’re gonna die out here. Why didn’t you just let us stay slaves in Egypt.” And as far as God is concerned, that’s the straw that broke the camel’s back. He says, “I’ve had it with you people.” He sends the Israelites back into the desert for 40 years, until the fearful generation has died off, including the 10 wussy spies, and only those who were ready to put their trust in God, including Joshua and Caleb, are allowed to cross the River Jordan and enter the promised land. Even Moses, who had his moments of doubt, wasn’t allowed in. He could see the promised land, but others sealed the deal.

Here’s the moral of that story: Change is going to happen whether you cooperate or not. But you might get left behind if you don’t.

The second thing we learn from Thomas’ story of doubt and change is that it’s hard not to doubt.

 I always like to talk about the things that unite us, that we all share, and certainly one of those factors is doubt. All of us have trouble believing in God’s goodness and power, especially when things go sour in our lives, or even more especially in the lives of those we love. Jesus said to Thomas, you believe because you have seen. The really blessed are those who have not seen, but still believe. And that’s very comforting for me. Jesus is talking about me there. I’m never going to see a photograph of Jesus. I’m never going to put my hand in the spear hole in his side. It’s never going to be proven to me that Jesus rose from the dead. Jesus understands that it’s hard for me to believe, yet he calls me blessed.

But I have a challenge for you. You and I know that the really important things in life are such qualities as love, friendship and loyalty. I challenge you to prove to my rational brain that love exists. A cynic could sit down with you and argue that any acts of self-giving in this world were really not selfless at all, but just attempts at self-love, or the need to control other people. I would say to you that since love, or friendship, or loyalty, or compassion, cannot be proven in a rational way then they must be miracles. And some of God’s greatest miracles, at that.

Let me tell you what happens when you carry rationalism too far, when you take miracles out of the equation. Probably the greatest thinker America ever produced was Thomas Jefferson. President Kennedy once told a gathering of great scientists at the White House, “This is probably the greatest collection of brain power in this house ever, except when Jefferson dined alone.” Perhaps he was too great a thinker, because he could in no way accept the idea of miracles.

So Jefferson literally took a razor blade and cut away stories of miracles from his Bible. And today Jefferson’s Bible contains only the moral teachings of Jesus. Which makes the gospels read a lot like a self-help book. No virgin birth. No raising a little girl back to life. No restoring sight to the blind or cleansing to lepers. No walking on water. And certainly no Easter Sunday. Here is how Jefferson’s Bible ends: “There laid they Jesus and rolled a great stone at the mouth of the sepulcher and departed.” Jefferson’s gospel ends at the grave.

It is easy to rewrite history and simply say, “These things didn’t happen.” In much the same way it is easy to give in to our anger and pain when terrible things ravage our lives and say “This is proof that God doesn’t care.” As if our puny rational brains could possibly capture God and his motives and stick them in a file drawer marked “rejects.” But Jefferson’s Bible has been robbed of its power. And a life that is lived without faith in God’s goodness, too, lacks power. God never promised a pain-free life. He only promised to be with us and help us through the dark times, the doubting times.

Our faith is not a blind faith; plenty of evidence exists to support the reality of Jesus Christ. But it is still faith. It does require taking a step past what our senses tell us to accept what we cannot see or experience in the physical world.

When we are baptized we don’t stop using our intellect and live in ignorance. That would be silly. God gave us our intellect, and he wants us to use our brains and our hearts to make the world a better place for his children. But when we learn that there is more to existence than what our senses tell us, that’s when we also begin to understand what God wants in our relationship with him. He wants us to believe in his promises. He wants us to believe that miracles can and do happen. He wants us hold onto his hand and get through these periods of darkness and pain. He wants us to endure.

One of the lessons that God has taught me is that there is meaning and purpose to our suffering, and one of the most important purposes that God has in allowing us to suffer is so we will be equipped and motivated to help others through their suffering. When you hear someone say out of the depth of their pain, “God doesn’t care about my suffering,” only someone who has also suffered will have the credibility to make an impact when they gently answer, “Let me tell you what God has done for me.” The testimony of one person who has journeyed from doubt to faith means more than a thousand sermons.

Finally, the third thing we can take away from the story of Thomas is that God wants to change us so that he can use us. Thomas refused to change until he met the risen Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, until his rational mind met the one who, beyond all logic, beyond all power of the human mind to explain, had risen from the dead. Only then did he fall on his knees and surrender his life to Jesus with the words “My Lord and my God.” Only at that moment of surrender to faith could Thomas be sent into the world to preach the good news of salvation.

I heard a great story this week that ties into this theme of doubt, change and God using us for his purposes. It is yet another story of Sept. 11^th and the hope that emerged from the horror of that terrible day. Al Braca was a bond trader who, quite frankly, hated his job. He hated the frantic pace of the financial markets of New York City, the money-grubbing atmosphere. But one day he realized that he would be much happier if he resolved to be a light in the darkness, including on the job.

Al didn’t become a street corner preacher, but he did try to bring Christ into the workplace, counseling, sometimes praying with those who needed to see an answer to their troubles. Of course, some people are always ready to mock those who see a better way to live their life, and you can imagine on Wall Street the population is full of doubters. They called him “Preacher Al,” and not in an affectionate way.

And then came Sept. 11^th, a morning which found Al working at his trading firm on the 105^th floor of the World Trade Center. When Al’s wife Jeannie heard about the planes crashing into the twin towers, she knew that Al would be trying to help others. After all, that’s what he did in 1993 when the center was bombed. He carried one woman out of the building when he found she had asthma and was unable to get through the smoke herself. Of course, she was unprepared for the reality that Al would not be coming home that evening.

But in the weeks that followed Sept. 11^th, Jeannie began receiving a miraculous spiritual healing. One by one, relatives of those who had worked with Al began to contact her, and told her stories of what Al had done in the heartbreaking moments after the plane crashed into their building. The plane hit at the 80^th floor, and even before the tower collapsed, they knew from the flames and heat and smoke coming up from below that they would never see their loved ones again. But they knew Al and knew that he walked with God.

Al kept them calm and prayed with them, and even as they called home, these people who previously had all the doubt in the world expressed hope that they were going to a better world, and they would one day be reunited with their loved ones in that better world.

Don’t miss this, folks: Because the God who has an infinite ability to bring good out of evil had changed Al, he was able to bring a lot of people with him when it was his turn to cross into eternity. That’s the message of Easter—that we are changed, not for the sake of change, but so we too can bring others to know the risen Christ, too.

In a few minutes we are going to once again share in the communion feast together. There is power at this table. You can’t see it. You can’t feel it. But it’s real. Believe it. As you take the bread and the cup, I ask that we hold them in our hands for a moment and ask God to change us as we need to be changed. Ask him to move us from doubt to faith. Thomas was a tough sell, and so are we all. But the risen Christ is the greatest salesman the world has ever known. Let him use us as he wants, so that his kingdom may come just one step closer to reality.

To that, let all God’s children say, Amen.