On Being Related to Doubting Thomas

I journaled yesterday morning.  About this lethargy hanging over me ... a veil of exhaustion, a distinct lack of creativity, the I-could-care-less haze that has descended.  Still recovering from some kind of bug or virus?  The aftermath of a family-filled weekend?  Too much blogging recently?  Winter weather that drags on and on? 

I mused, I penned ... Whatever it is, it's simply alright.  I allow myself to be exactly where I am.  Grace and patience start right here, and if I can't extend these gifts to myself, how on earth can I share them with others?

And as I'm writing these words, it begins to dawn on me ... this heaviness in my spirit seemed to descend on Sunday evening, while watching 'The Bible.'  Seeing Jesus' life and ministry, betrayal and upcoming death played out in all its Hollywood grandeur in my family room in living color.  Thanks to the marvels of technology and advanced screen production, this final week in His life became way-too-real in my own.

I experienced the apprehension, the dread, the sadness, the fear.  I've read The Book.  I know what's ahead.  And I am drained with the horror of His sufferings.  And I know that there's no way I'm going to be watching my sweet Savior being tortured to death during next Sunday night's commercial laden series conclusion.

Now I know why I'm feeling the way I do.  God is allowing me to get just a taste of what His precious Son and those who loved Him experienced in these days all those generations ago.  In some sense, I am there with Him.  The ugliness of human betrayal, the stark reality of sin, the horror of the violent torture to come.  And that overwhelming separation from God.

It's all too much for me to grasp. 

A week or so ago it hit me how I sometimes feel like Thomas, the doubting one.  I'm sure we must be distant cousins.  The core of his faith is rock solid.  He loves his Savior madly, his life is devoted to following Him faithfully and serving Him with every bit of his heart.  But his own uncertainties creep in, he's not always sure of what's going on, and he's got questions with no answers in sight.

I just love that he tells Jesus that he believes.  And that he needs his unbelief to be shored up.  And I am hearing his heart's cry, for it is my own.

So I come to You today, just as I am.  I am filled with awe and gratitude for that huge sacrifice that we celebrate this week.  I admit that I have questions and there's so much that I don't understand about Your ways.

And then Your Spirit gently reminds me that Your ways are not my ways, Your thoughts are not mine.  No wonder there's so much I don't have a clue about, can't grasp ahold of, can't quite get my hands around.

That's where the that solid core of faith kicks in.  Big time.

Your immense love for me, my eternal salvation, the presence of Your blessed Spirit, answers to prayers that have left me speechless, the miracles I've seen in the lives of Your children, Your plans for my life, the promise of heaven ... these truths and so many more I stand firmly on without question.

And the things that bring the wonderings, that are too lofty for me to attain to?  I join my distant cousin, my brother in the faith, in laying them all at Your feet.  A living sacrifice.  Knowing that with absolute certainty that You alone are God, and that You do all things well.

Thy will be done.

*   linking heart to heart with my sister counselor, Beth   *