The Bible Was Already Open Before I Was Ready
I didn’t come to the Bible this morning with a clear head.
Honestly, I almost didn’t open it at all. There’s this heaviness sitting on my chest lately — not sharp like grief, more like the dull weight of feeling like nothing is moving. Like I’m showing up every day, doing the things I’m supposed to do, and somehow still standing in the exact same place. I don’t know how else to describe it other than: stuck. And tired of being stuck.
So I opened my Bible not out of hunger, really. More out of habit. Or maybe stubbornness. Either way, I found myself in John 20, and I wasn’t expecting the particular sting that came next.
“Stop Doubting and Believe” — Words That Cut Right Through
I’ve read this passage before. Many times, probably. But today, verse 27 landed differently.
“Then 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.'” — John 20:27
I read it once. Then again.
And I felt — honestly — a little implicated. Like this verse was less of a historical account and more of a mirror being held up to my face. Because somewhere in the fog of these recent weeks, I think I’ve been living as if Jesus isn’t really here. Not in a dramatic, crisis-of-faith kind of way. Just quietly. Going through the motions of prayer, showing up to life, but not really sensing His presence. Not really leaning into it.
And when I read “Stop doubting and believe,” something in me cringed.
That’s me, isn’t it. That’s the person in this story I’ve become without noticing.
What I Found When I Looked More Closely at Thomas
Here’s the thing though — I sat with the discomfort for a while, and then I started backing up in the chapter. Reading from the beginning again. And something shifted.
Thomas wasn’t some uniquely faithless outlier. Mary Magdalene didn’t recognize Jesus at first (v.14). The other disciples were locked behind closed doors, paralyzed by fear (v.19). Everyone in this chapter is stumbling around in some version of confusion, doubt, or disorientation. Thomas just happened to say his doubt out loud.
And then — this is the part that really got to me — Jesus didn’t wait for Thomas to come crawling back. Jesus came to Thomas. Eight days later, He walked back into the room, and the very first thing He did was speak directly to what Thomas had said. He remembered the exact words. “You want to see my hands? Here they are. You want to touch my side? Go ahead.”
Jesus had been paying attention.
That realization did something to me that the initial sting of the verse hadn’t. Because I’ve been so focused on feeling like I’ve forgotten Jesus, I hadn’t stopped to consider: what if He hasn’t forgotten me?
Still Stuck, But Maybe Not Alone in It
The Greek behind “stop doubting and become believing” — both verbs come from the same root, ginomai, meaning to become, to be in the process of becoming. Jesus wasn’t labeling Thomas as a faithless person. He was redirecting a trajectory. Don’t keep going that direction. Turn this way instead.
It’s less of a verdict and more of an invitation.
And maybe that’s what I need to sit with today. Because I’ve been treating my spiritual numbness like evidence that I’ve failed somehow — like the heaviness is proof that my faith is broken or insufficient. I’ve been quietly convicting myself, which has only made the weight heavier.
But Jesus came to Thomas in the middle of his doubt. Not after it was resolved. Not once Thomas had figured things out or worked himself back up to a place of confident belief. He came into it.
And Thomas’s response — “My Lord and my God!” (v.28) — didn’t come after everything had been explained or fixed. It came while Jesus still had scars. While the wounds were still visible. Thomas confessed in the middle of unresolved mystery, not on the other side of it.
I’m not there yet. I don’t think my heaviness is going to lift just because I had a moving quiet time this morning. Life still feels like it’s standing still, and I don’t have a breakthrough to report.
But I think — and I’m holding this loosely — that staying in the room might be enough for now. Thomas didn’t go looking for Jesus. He was just there. Present. And Jesus found him.
Maybe that’s where I am today. Just present. And maybe that counts.
A Prayer for the Heavy and the Stuck
Lord,
I don’t really know how to pray right now without it feeling a little mechanical. But I’m here, which feels like the only honest thing I can offer today.
I think I’ve been forgetting You were close. Or maybe I’ve been afraid to look, in case I didn’t feel anything. Either way — I’ve been carrying this weight mostly alone, and I’m not sure that was necessary.
Thank You for finding Thomas when Thomas wasn’t looking. Thank You for remembering what he said, for showing up eight days later, for not giving up on the room he was in.
I’m in a room too. It’s a bit dim right now, and I’m not sure what’s next. But if You came to Thomas — came to him, not the other way around — then I think I can trust that You know where I am.
I don’t need a feeling right now. I just need to not drift further in the wrong direction.
Help me stay. Help me turn, even a little.
My Lord and my God — I want to mean that the way Thomas did, even if I’m not quite there yet.
Amen.