The Lord’s resurrection was still “breaking news.” The empty tomb remained the talk of the town. And the apostles – filled with anxiety, their fear of human enemies proving far stronger than any hopeful word of an empty tomb – self-sequestered behind hefty doors. Then suddenly into their secretive huddle bursts Jesus to deliver a message of peace, proof positive that his power far exceeds the strength of any deadbolt. According to the Gospel of St. Luke,
When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.
Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” (John 20:19-23)
Mere days had passed since their last meal together, perhaps in that very room. Just last week their fellowship was unbroken, and they vowed fidelity even unto death. Then came a terror-filled night of betrayal and arrest, and an agonizing day of bloody death, and a confusing morning of angelic visions and swirling rumors. Weary and bewildered, the Lord’s disciples were at their breaking point:
Close the doors before the world that threatens and destroys constantly.
Slam shut the gates against those who come incessantly, because they bring lethal trouble undoubtedly.
Roll the stone in the face of the Savior who knocks persistently and loves unconditionally.
Surely the Lord comes in anger, in accusation of sin and trespass. Surely he comes to avenge broken promises, rampant betrayal, and widespread desertion. Surely the God of justice comes calling to iniquity and brokenness.
But no, Jesus comes in peace, in love – as the God of mercy and pardon. Wounded, he heals all wounds. The grave cannot confine him; a locked door cannot block him. Jesus refuses outside dwelling. He abides within, among us; as in days gone by, here, there, and everywhere. Easter morning breaks hopeless, dark, and menacing, but its evening spawns assurance, light, and joy. All that remains is humble acceptance of the Lord’s grace and peace.
It was the first day of the week, the first day of new creation, the first day of sure forgiveness – the letting go of hurt for past wrongs, the healing of wounds long raw and festering. Eternal powers of sin and death have been vanquished, and eternal life is bursting forth upon Creation to restore fellowship and right relationship in the making of all things new. Let us join our voices in prayer.
Thank you, Great God, for the peace of Jesus Christ. We delight in his presence among the fellowship of believers, in our daily lives and prayers, in Scriptures heard and songs sung, in sacraments of baptism and communion. In every moment he is with us – even when we are anxious and preoccupied with the worries of this world.
It is in those times of darkness that we close our hearts to your love, O God. As the disciples closed their doors, we allow fear and doubt to imprison us. Send your Holy Spirit to open us always to the coming of Christ, to receive assurance of his peace, and to proclaim him alive and well with all hope and confidence.
Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! And Christ will come again! Let us bless the Lord! Thanks be to God!
+++
And among them was Thomas, the eternal pessimist: less so a sceptic or doubter as he was inclined to believe that the future held nothing good. He disputed the witness of his fellow apostles and the other disciples, insisted on seeing and touching the Risen Lord up close and in person. According to the Gospel of St. John,
A week later the Lord’s disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” (John 20:26-29)
Oh Thomas, my brother and friend, you never believed that all would be well. No, you were not a coward. You loved Jesus doggedly yet despairingly, ready to go to Jerusalem to die with him, when at Bethany he raised Lazarus from the dead. During the ritual courses of that final Passover meal, you insisted on knowing where Jesus was going. You demanded to be shown the way without question.
Ten of your closest colleagues were content to see and believe by faith, but you demanded the touch and feel of dreadful wounds. And you got your wish, because God often takes us at our word and gives us more than we expect or desire. And those marks of suffering that you probed with eye and finger far surpassed your wildest dreams and experiences.
You played your part, Thomas, and you played it well. Your confession of divinity silences all argument against resurrection, blessing every generation of believers equally as anxious and uncertain as you were. Once again, let us lift our voices in prayer.
Glory be to Father, Son, and Spirit for belief that abides not by sight but by faith. Glory be to Father, Son, and Spirit for all the many assurances of resurrection – for every realization of Jesus in our daily living, moving, and breathing. Glory be to Father, Son, and Spirit for grace that forgives when we are slow to believe and quick to demand solid evidence. Let there be no doubt – Christ is risen! He is risen indeed!
And Christ will come again! Let us bless the Lord! Thanks be to God!
Pastor Grant M. VanderVelden shared this message on the Fifth Sunday of Easter, May 3, 2026, at First Presbyterian Church in Waukon, Iowa, USA. Commentary and reflection by Raymond Chapman inform the message.