When THAT silence is painful

 

 

His back literally hits a wall.

There is no choice here. No option. He slides down until he reaches the floor.

Numb, lost, broken, his hands and his forehead meet.

There could be tears. There should be crying. But there is neither.

The question that put him down loops like a toy train on a track. “What do I do now, Jesus?”

The sound of silence presses around him. No answer comes.

This has happened to me. This is you, too, if you’re honest. Sometimes the silence is so good. Here we wait. We listen. We rest.

Conversely, sometimes the silence is not good.

Maybe you have never made it as low as the floor like I have, but THAT silence is painful.

The pain behind the “What do I do now?” question may have been with Thomas, one of Jesus’ disciples. After all, his teacher, mentor, and friend—the very One who had called him into this ramshackle, spur-of-the-moment ministry had done so many miraculous things right in front of or beside him and the eleven others (and this ministry included bringing life back from the dead)—was now dead. Crucified. Gone.

From the hollow place I have had, I can hear Thomas ask, “What do I do now, Jesus?”

To add insult to injury, Thomas wasn’t there when the dead-now-living Jesus appeared. Yes there, in a locked room, the One who had been sealed in a tomb now stood among the very ones whom Thomas had served with so faithfully.

Jesus. Alive.

It’s possible to picture Thomas on the floor with his back against the wall. Unlike the other disciples who were present that evening, he was the one—the only one—who didn’t see Jesus.

Surely when the disciples caught up with Thomas after seeing Jesus that Sunday night (which is the Sunday we now call the first Easter). Excitedly, they shared the incredible, almost impossible-to-believe news. “He was there, Thomas! He was with us!”

When he had time to himself again, Thomas’ inner conversation with himself might have begun like this. “Yes, you were there. I wasn’t.”

The sullen if not depressed disciple may also have thought, “If Jesus could raise Himself from the dead and visit his close friends and colleagues, then He could have come to me, too.”

After all, just days earlier, Jesus had washed his feet in a selfless act of servanthood and love. Jesus also broke bread that night and poured wine which made the bond between those at the table all the stronger.

But Jesus didn’t come to him? Really?

Scripture tells us eight days pass between the first time Jesus visits the disciples and the second time He visits the disciples. A lot of time—and a lot of thoughts—can go into 192 hours.

Jesus wasn’t absent. Thomas was.

Honestly, truthfully, we can be absent from Jesus, too. Yet the One who walked on water does walk toward us. Sometimes the timing of that walk makes us realize who Jesus is and how Jesus is.

There are specifics in the story of Jesus with Thomas. There are also specifics in our story with Jesus. What we can learn from Thomas is Jesus meets us with His timing, not ours, for a reason.

Jesus will always, always meet us. What appears like silence to us is Jesus waiting for us to be silent enough, still enough, and quiet enough so that, when we are ready, the One who loves us more than anyone reaches, teaches, inspires, lifts, comforts and guides us not now and then but always.

Jesus’ goal is neither silence nor distance with us. Instead, Jesus is patient, trustworthy and present. When we experience THAT silence, when we find ourselves on or near the floor, He is not just waiting for us. He is down there with us.