Seeing Is Believing
For the last few days now, my 3 year old son has asked me, “Is today Christmas?” He has already got a bunch of presents from his little church-friends and others, but he has a vague recollection of last year’s loot – swimming in wrapping paper and all that. So, he’s quite anxious for the day.
There’s a day coming for those who know Christ. It’s actually called “the Day of the Lord” – His day, the day He comes. There are many things that are going to come to fruition that day: shedding this corruption we carry around like corpses chained to our ankles, seeing creation restored to its former unspoiled glory, and having this world run right by the One who made it. But more than this, I think the over-riding hope of all hopes for everyone who knows Jesus is simply to see him face to face. A group of us were singing the other night and as the words “when I stand in glory, I will see his face…” were being sung, I looked over at my wife who had stopped singing. She couldn’t, because the tears welling in her eyes told me there was a lump in her throat. She wanted to see Jesus.
Why? She has never seen him before. She has never heard his voice. Or has she? The thing is, there is a kind of knowing that beggars the imagination. No picture is ever good enough. No voice is ever close enough to resemble the one we’ve heard in our hearts. Yes, he has spoken to us before. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that when I see him, I will not recognize him simply by the scars he’s chosen to keep in his glorified body. I think I will know him, just as I am known by him in a way beyond my appearance.
I wonder about Thomas sometimes. He gets it rough too often. “Doubting Thomas” we call him. In John 11, when Jesus is going to resurrect Lazarus, John records Thomas saying, “Let us go and die with Him.” Does that sound like a doubter? Put yourself in Thomas’ shoes for a second – we have the benefit of hindsight. Yes, maybe he should have understood the prophecies about Christ’s sacrifice, but so few did (Simeon being one). But all the same, in his despair and simultaneous anxiousness to see Jesus, he blurts out the need to touch those wounds. Jesus doesn’t think that’s such a bad request, because he lets him do it.
When did Thomas know enough to say to him, “My Lord and my God!”? I think he knew before he felt the scars. I don’t think he needed that when Jesus was standing right in front of him. There is some rebuking that goes on in that scene, but it’s of the encouraging variety. Jesus does more than is required, not surprisingly. Thomas is singled out, but given an honour really. He went to his death for it as a martyr for his Lord.
I will know that it’s Christ when I see him. I can’t tell you how. The new life he put in me – His life – will resonate with Him. He has tuned me to sing true, like the sun draws a song from the birds. Just like Christmas has found a home in my son. Ok Josh, just like in the snow – wrapping paper angel time!
BJ
There’s a day coming for those who know Christ. It’s actually called “the Day of the Lord” – His day, the day He comes. There are many things that are going to come to fruition that day: shedding this corruption we carry around like corpses chained to our ankles, seeing creation restored to its former unspoiled glory, and having this world run right by the One who made it. But more than this, I think the over-riding hope of all hopes for everyone who knows Jesus is simply to see him face to face. A group of us were singing the other night and as the words “when I stand in glory, I will see his face…” were being sung, I looked over at my wife who had stopped singing. She couldn’t, because the tears welling in her eyes told me there was a lump in her throat. She wanted to see Jesus.
Why? She has never seen him before. She has never heard his voice. Or has she? The thing is, there is a kind of knowing that beggars the imagination. No picture is ever good enough. No voice is ever close enough to resemble the one we’ve heard in our hearts. Yes, he has spoken to us before. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that when I see him, I will not recognize him simply by the scars he’s chosen to keep in his glorified body. I think I will know him, just as I am known by him in a way beyond my appearance.
I wonder about Thomas sometimes. He gets it rough too often. “Doubting Thomas” we call him. In John 11, when Jesus is going to resurrect Lazarus, John records Thomas saying, “Let us go and die with Him.” Does that sound like a doubter? Put yourself in Thomas’ shoes for a second – we have the benefit of hindsight. Yes, maybe he should have understood the prophecies about Christ’s sacrifice, but so few did (Simeon being one). But all the same, in his despair and simultaneous anxiousness to see Jesus, he blurts out the need to touch those wounds. Jesus doesn’t think that’s such a bad request, because he lets him do it.
When did Thomas know enough to say to him, “My Lord and my God!”? I think he knew before he felt the scars. I don’t think he needed that when Jesus was standing right in front of him. There is some rebuking that goes on in that scene, but it’s of the encouraging variety. Jesus does more than is required, not surprisingly. Thomas is singled out, but given an honour really. He went to his death for it as a martyr for his Lord.
I will know that it’s Christ when I see him. I can’t tell you how. The new life he put in me – His life – will resonate with Him. He has tuned me to sing true, like the sun draws a song from the birds. Just like Christmas has found a home in my son. Ok Josh, just like in the snow – wrapping paper angel time!
BJ
posted by BJ at 10:38 a.m.
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