Only a Wounded God Can Save

Thomas gets a bad reputation. We call him "Doubting Thomas" as if his skepticism were a character flaw to be corrected. But I've come to think he was pointing to something important.

When Thomas heard that his friends had seen the risen Christ, he said: "Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe." (John 20:25)

That sounds like stubbornness. But listen more carefully. What Thomas was really saying was this: the Jesus I know has wounds. The Jesus I followed suffered. The Jesus I love has scars. Show me those — and then I will believe.

Early in Christian history there was a heresy called Docetism. The Docetists claimed that Christ only appeared to be human — that he didn't really suffer, didn't really live and die as we must. The church said no. Emphatically. Jesus was fully God and fully human. The risen Christ still bore the marks of the cross. Without the wounds, it isn't the gospel.

Because only a wounded God can save.

A woman named Linda once showed up at the home of a stranger named Lonni, whose baby was dying of cancer. Linda stayed for forty-eight hours — through the dying and beyond. At one point she stood looking out into the night and said in a shaky voice: "I don't understand why God allows children to suffer like this. But I know this: you can trust a God who suffers. When you can't trust anything else, you can trust a God who has suffered."

That is the gospel. Not a God who observes our pain from a safe distance, but one who entered it. Who bears the scars of it still.

When you find yourself in the middle of something that is hard to bear — you are not alone in unfamiliar territory. You are in the presence of one who knows the way through from the inside.

Prayer: Lord Jesus, we thank you that you did not come to us untouched by suffering. You entered our pain. You bore our wounds. And you rose still carrying the marks of it. When we are hurting today, remind us that we are not alone — that we bring our wounds to one who understands them completely. Be near to those who are suffering. And may the knowledge of your presence be enough. Amen.

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