Drawing the Shades

I had to laugh when I saw that a Hamilton minister preached yesterday on John 20:19-31 with the title “Total Eclipse of the Heart”. The frenzy about today’s solar eclipse was almost comical for the all of 2 minutes and 6 seconds of ‘totality’ and near darkness. Niagara Falls declared a state of emergency to ensure they were ready to provide for the expected million people flocking to experience this event.

Wearing clip-on sunglasses at kids’ time yesterday I asked what difference it would make if we collectively cared as much about the Son of God as the sun in the sky. I didn’t bother to get eclipse sunglasses, and just as well as a number of them were recalled.

The irony wasn’t lost on me that the scripture from John that I also used had the disciples hiding in the upper room with a locked door, likely in near dark out of fear. We had so many precautions for today’s eclipse it was unreal. Schools rescheduled to having PA days to avoid children walking home and being blinded because they couldn’t help looking at the sun. During the time of the eclipse few cars were out as people stayed inside and all went quiet in my downtown neighbourhood, except for birds singing their evening songs.

The darkness didn’t last, and Jesus’ time in the tomb didn’t last either. The gloom of the disciples apparently kept returning. Despite Jesus showing Himself, breathing the Holy Spirit on them in John’s account, and eating fish and honey in Luke’s version to prove He was alive again, they kept doubting, even up to when He ascended many days later after multiple other appearances.

It’s tempting to shake our heads at them, but are we that much different? When we experience great loss (and this was truly traumatic coupled with their guilt and shame about abandoning Jesus) how quickly do we snap out of it and return to normal? Nothing was normal about this. We can quickly put up walls of protection and not trust that Christ is in our midst as we struggle in the aftermath. Trust can be hard to come by when things are all upside down, whether trust in God or others.

Jesus amazes me with His patience, reassurance and seeming calm. He offers them peace, and isn’t exasperated even though He had said that this is exactly what would happen multiple times. We’re not good at hearing that one we love is going to die, either. He offers proof after proof, choosing to keep His scars on His resurrected body because they are part of His story and the miracle of being brought back to life after all that harrowing abuse. His scars prove it is really Him.

He doesn’t just reassure but gives the disciples purpose. The Holy Spirit being breathed on them is a precursor for the later, very public Pentecost event, a much more powerful experience of God’s indwelling and calling on their lives. He tells them that they are being sent in His name. This isn’t the end but a beginning, a new chapter of living out their devotion and discipleship. He hasn’t given up on them.

Jesus’ patience extends to Thomas who missed the occasion. Knowing he won’t believe unless he has the same experience, Jesus comes back and shows that it is Him. Jesus’ patience extends to us who still don’t always get Easter right and who can buy in to the commercial nature of it or love the opportunity to gather with family and forget that He is still among us and wanting us to tell His story. We don’t always recognize that He comes back for each of us despite our stumbling and doubt. We don’t always acknowledge how much we demand of Him to prove Himself for us and how little we can offer in return.

He can and does break through barriers as the risen Son Who has conquered death forever. He goes to extremes to reassure and be with us. He pulls us from tombs we’ve made for ourselves and brings us out into His light. He offers us grace and peace when we desperately need it. He gives us purpose and sends us out, treating us as important and worthy.

I’m not sure what more we could ask of the One Who died for us. The real question is, will we go where we’re being sent and will we tell His story and our story, scars and all? Because He is risen, He is risen indeed, and our future in Him is so bright, we just might need shades.