“Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” ~ John 20:25 (NIV)

We call him Doubting Thomas.

I wonder if we’ve been a little hard on him.

Because when I read his story, I don’t just see a man who doubted.

I see a man with a broken heart.

Thomas had believed in Jesus. He had followed Him. Walked with Him. Loved Him. He had watched Jesus do the impossible. He had heard His words and seen His miracles with his own eyes.

And then he watched it all seemingly fall apart.

Jesus died.

The One Thomas had placed his hope in was crucified, and whatever Thomas thought was going to happen next… this wasn’t it.

Then, while Thomas was away, Jesus appeared to the other disciples.

Can you imagine Thomas walking into the room afterward?

“Thomas! We have seen the Lord!”

Everyone is excited. Everyone is talking at once. He’s alive! Jesus is alive! We saw Him!

And Thomas says no.

Unless I see Him for myself. Unless I see the wounds. Unless I touch the place where the nails went through His hands…

I won’t believe.

For so long, I heard those words as doubt.

Now I wonder if they sounded more like heartbreak.

Maybe Thomas wasn’t saying, “I refuse to believe.”

Maybe somewhere underneath those words he was saying,

“I don’t know if I can survive believing again.”

And oh, how I understand that.

Because sometimes faith gets bruised.

Sometimes we prayed.

We believed.

We stood on Scripture.

We told everybody God was going to come through.

We were sure we knew what He was doing.

And then it didn’t happen the way we thought it would.

The relationship ended.

The door closed.

The prayer seemed unanswered.

The thing we believed God would save still died.

And suddenly believing again feels dangerous.

Not because we stopped loving Jesus.

But because hope hurt.

I think there are moments when our hearts whisper, Jesus, I still love You. I just don’t know if I can get my hopes up again.

And this is where the story of Thomas becomes so beautiful to me.

Jesus came back.

Eight days later, the disciples were together again, and this time Thomas was with them.

Jesus appeared among them and said,

“Peace be with you!”

And then He turned to Thomas.

He knew.

Jesus knew exactly what Thomas had said.

He knew what Thomas needed.

And He didn’t shame him.

He didn’t say, “Thomas, after everything you’ve seen, how dare you doubt Me?”

He didn’t embarrass him in front of the others.

He didn’t tell him to come back when his faith was stronger.

He simply showed Thomas His scars.

“Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side.” — John 20:27 (NIV)

I cannot get over the tenderness of Jesus here.

Thomas needed reassurance, and Jesus gave it to him.

Thomas needed to know that the Jesus standing in front of him was really the same Jesus he had watched suffer.

So Jesus showed him the wounds.

And Thomas answered,

“My Lord and my God!” — John 20:28 (NIV)

Maybe some of the deepest worship comes after the doubt.

Maybe there is something especially beautiful about worship that comes from a heart that has been broken, disappointed, confused and afraid to hope again—and yet somehow finds its way back to Jesus.

“My Lord and my God.”

I wonder if you’re there right now.

Maybe you haven’t walked away from Jesus. You still love Him. You still believe in Him.

But something happened.

Something you prayed for didn’t happen.

Something you thought He promised looks nothing like you imagined.

And now there is a part of you that is afraid to believe again.

Afraid to pray big again.

Afraid to hope again.

Afraid to say, “God is going to do this,” because you remember how much it hurt the last time.

Can I tell you something?

Jesus is not afraid of that place in you.

He is not intimidated by your questions.

He is not disappointed because your faith has a limp.

He knows the difference between a rebellious heart and a broken one.

And He knows how to meet both.

Thomas said, Show me the scars.

And Jesus did.

Maybe today you need to ask Him the same thing.

Jesus, show me Your scars.

Remind me that You know what suffering feels like.

Remind me that the cross looked like the end too.

Remind me that what looked completely dead on Friday was not the end of the story.

Remind me that You can still be working when I cannot see You.

Remind me that resurrection is still possible.

And remind me that Your scars are proof that suffering does not get the final word.

Sometimes faith isn’t standing boldly on a mountaintop declaring that we have absolutely no doubts.

Sometimes faith is barely reaching toward the wounded hands of Jesus and whispering,

“I want to believe again.”

And maybe that’s enough.

Because Jesus will meet us there.

He met Thomas in his doubt.

He met him in his grief.

He met him in the place where believing felt impossible.

And He showed him His scars.

So if your heart has been broken by something you once believed God for, you don’t have to pretend with Him.

Tell Him.

Jesus, I’m disappointed.

I’m confused.

I’m afraid to hope again.

But I still want You.

And then stay close.

Because the same Jesus who walked through a locked door to reach one hurting disciple still knows how to find a heart that is struggling to believe.

Thomas wasn’t left with the name “doubter” by Jesus.

He was met.

And when Jesus met him there, doubt gave way to worship:

“My Lord and my God.”

Maybe your story isn’t ending in disappointment either.

Maybe Jesus is simply meeting you in the place between heartbreak and belief.

And maybe, for today, your prayer can simply be:

Jesus, show me Your scars.
 Help my heart believe again.

Prayer:

Jesus,

Sometimes I’m afraid to hope again.

I’ve prayed prayers I thought You would answer differently. I’ve believed for things that didn’t happen. I’ve watched doors close, dreams change, and things I thought You would save fall apart.

And if I’m honest, sometimes my heart is scared to believe again.

But Jesus, I still want You.

Meet me here, just like You met Thomas. Not with condemnation, but with Your presence. Remind me that You are not afraid of my questions, my disappointment, or even my doubt.

Show me Your scars.

Remind me that what looked like the end at the cross became resurrection. Remind me that You are still good when I don’t understand. Remind me that You are still working when I cannot see it.

Heal the places in me that have become afraid to hope.

Give me the courage to trust You again—not because I know how the story will unfold, but because I know You.

And when my faith feels small, let my heart still whisper what Thomas eventually cried out:

“My Lord and my God.”

Jesus, I still believe.

And where I’m struggling to believe…

help my heart believe again.

Amen.