Hi, my name is Thomas, but truth be told, I don’t know who I am anymore. Once, I told my brother apostles to go together and die with the master while he mourned Lazarus (John 11, 16), but when I saw the soldiers arresting Jesus, I ran as if I never knew him.
When I heard he died while forgiving everyone on the cross, I knew I should’ve been there with him, but my heart said one thing, and my intellect told me to run.
Now, the brothers tell me he is alive with marks of the nails on his hands and lance on his side; nobody escapes death with nails and cross that easy; I have to see him, no! I must touch the marks on his hands; there is no way to fool death.
Eight days later, I decided to join the brothers; it was good to be together. Suddenly, a voice in the center of the room said, “Peace be with you.” I gasped as my heart shrunk. It was his voice, peaceful, energizing, and life-giving, but I still wanted to be invisible, unnoticed, but his voice had already reached my soul. He was grander than death.
“Here are my hands; touch them,” he commanded. Bring your hand to my side, and believe! He had always known my very being.
I started choking as I cried, every tear washing my doubts, unworthiness, and loneliness. I felt loved and renewed with spiritual life: “My Lord and My God!”