There are days when you wake up and you’re already tired, even though you haven’t done anything yet.
It’s that kind of tiredness that doesn’t come from your body; it comes from what we carry inside.
We carry what we see in the news.
We carry conversations that won’t leave us alone.
We carry worries that don’t go away when we turn off the light.
We hear about wars, and it worries us. We feel that the world is becoming more unstable.
We hear about immigration raids, and for some in our community, that is not just news, that is family, that are neighbors. That is wondering if life can change overnight.
We hear about detention centers being planned right here in the valley, and that hits close. Too close. It changes how people move, how they speak, how they show up in public. People start asking, “Am I safe? Is my family safe?”
And even if it is not happening directly to you, the weight is still there. You feel it in conversations. You feel it in the tension. Some of us are angry because it feels unjust. Some of us are scared because it feels out of control. And some of us are just trying to get through the day without thinking too much about it.
Fear does that. It makes our world smaller. We stay quiet when we would normally speak. We hold things in. We avoid what feels risky.
So we lock the doors. Not just physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. We protect ourselves. That’s the space we are living in right now.
That is exactly where the disciples are in today’s Gospel. They are locked in a house.
Doors shut. Not because they are resting, but because they are afraid. Jesus had just been executed by the state. Crucifixion was not just punishment. It was a warning. If you follow this man, this is what happens to you.
So the disciples are not overreacting. They are surviving. They are hiding because they think they might be next.
And right into that locked room, Jesus shows up.
No warning. No knock on the door.
He stands among them and says, “Peace be with you.” Right in the middle of their fear; He shows them his wounds.
He does not hide what was done to him. He brings his wounded body into the room and says, in a way, “This is what the world did. And I am still here.”
Jesus does not wait for us to be calm. He comes right into our fear. He meets us as we are.
And his peace is not denial. It is not pretending everything is okay. His peace comes with wounds.
Those wounds tell the truth. This is the same Jesus who suffered, who was rejected, who was killed. And he stands there alive in front of them. The wounds are still there, but they are no longer the end of the story.
And that means our wounds are not the end either.
The things that scare us, the things that hurt us, the things we carry, God does not avoid them. God meets us there.
And then there is Thomas.
This Sunday is known as the doubting Thomas. He gets a bad reputation because of his unbelief.
He was not in the room the first time. And when the others told him, they saw Jesus, he says,
“Unless I see… unless I touch… I will not believe.”
He is honest.
He says out loud what many of us feel.
We live with real doubt. We doubt safety. We doubt the future. Some of us wonder if things are going to get better. Some of us wonder where God is in all of this.
Thomas stands there for all of us.
And when Jesus comes back a second time, he does not shame Thomas.
He goes straight to him. And say “Put your finger here. Look at my hands.” Jesus meets him exactly where he is.
And Thomas says, “My Lord and my God.”
That is what faith is.
Faith is not being free of doubt. Faith is trusting that Jesus will come to us, even in the middle of our questions.
And then Jesus says, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.” And then Jesus breathes on them.
Right there in that locked room, full of fear, Jesus breathes and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” This is new life.
The same God who breathed life into humanity in the beginning is breathing life again. Not out there somewhere. Right there in their fear.
This is not just their story
In baptism, God has already breathed his life into us. Water was poured. Words were spoken. And whether we remember it or not, God claimed us.
That means our identity is not decided by fear, status or, by what the world says about us. It is grounded in what God has already done.
And Jesus keeps meeting us.
At this table. In bread and wine, he shows up again and again. Not because we are perfect, but because we need him. Just like the disciples in that room, we come carrying fear, doubt, and everything else.
And he meets us here and gives himself to us.
And then Jesus sends them.
Now, notice the order.
He meets them.
He gives them peace.
He breathes life into them.
And then he sends them. “They are given authority to forgive.”
This is where it gets hard.
Because we live in a world holding on to anger. A world where people are hurt, where injustice is real, where division runs deep.
Forgiveness does not mean pretending nothing happened. It does not mean accepting harm or staying silent about injustice.
It means we refuse to let hate have the final word.
It means we choose not to pass on the same bitterness that was handed to us.
It means in our homes, in our church, in our community, we become people who make space for healing instead of adding more harm.
That is what we are sent to do.
Not to fix everything. But to live differently.
To speak up for those who cannot.
To show up for each other when fear tells us to stay away.
To treat people with dignity when the world does not.
So, this is not just about the disciples. This is about us.
We are the ones who are tired.
We are the ones who are afraid.
We are the ones who doubt.
And we are the ones Jesus comes to anyway.
He comes to us. He breathes life into us, and then He sends us back into the same world.
Same realities. Same fears. But not the same way, because we do not go alone;
We go with His peace.
Siblings,
nothing that is happening around us has the power to separate us from God.
Christ is risen, that doesn’t take away the reality of fear. But it does change who has the final say.
Fear is still present. That is real.
But this is also real:
Jesus continues to enter closed rooms.
He continues to find weary people.
He continues to reach out to those who doubt.
And he continues to say: “Peace be with you.”
And then he sends us to live that peace, together, here, this week.
Amen.
