Too Little, Too Late

That day.......I remember it well....

I had just bought my first mini-van.  It was candy apple red and I was amazed at the room, the captain's chairs, the power of driving, riding head and shoulders above the rest of humanity.  Of course, this was all before I realized the repercussions this purchase would entail.  Before I discovered the crowd of kids I would be forced to transport to volleyball games, movies, and junior high parties because I owned the van! 

On this particular day, I was running a quick errand to the local pharmacy and had parked a far distance from the entrance, not wanting to get the first "ding" on my van.  Approaching the pharmacy door, I noticed HER.  The bag lady.  Now living in the suburbs, we did not have many of these.  In fact,  for all I knew, at this time, we only had one.  She was a woman in her mid fifties, streaked gray hair, and wearing the same dirty dress.  She pushed a grocery cart with an odd assortment of trash and items she must have picked up from curbside discards.  She was always going somewhere.  Her point of origin and destinations were always a puzzle.  Of course, I had heard the rumors.  She was an heiress, mildly deranged, that chose the streets over the mansion she owned.  She had a large bank account in an area bank, only drawing small amounts to subsist on.  No one could sift fact from fiction, but one thing I did know. She never talked to anyone.

On this day, she was smack dab in my path as I approached drugstore entrance, and I was a bit nervous.  I did not feel threatened by her.  I guess she was an icon of sorts.  She did not look my way as I entered, much to my relief, and by the time I was through shopping, I had forgotten she was there.  

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Leaving the store with bags in tow, I was startled to here a voice.  Even more so, when I discovered it came from our resident homeless person.  I turned and she quietly asked me if I would take her to a street about 5 miles away.  I was shocked and for a minute could not speak.  But I could think.  And what I thought about, in that split second, was loading that malodorous women and her garbage in my brand, new, candy apple red van....

In my reading this week, I happened to come across the Bible character, Nicodemus, .  He is one of those people you have mixed feelings about. You are impressed, that being a member of the religious right of the day, he approached Jesus.  A little less impressed when you remember it was under the cover of darkness.   He does rise a bit above the ranks when, with Joseph of Arimathea, he helps to obtain the body of Christ for burial.  But then he sinks a little when you remember that during the trial and persecution, this member of the governing sect was mute.  At a time when Jesus could have used a friend, Nicodemus was silent.

For some odd reason, this week, I saw him in a new light.  In my prior studies, I knew that Nicodemus had contributed costly spices to anoint the body.  For that same odd reason, this week I chose to dig a little deeper.  In the grand scheme of Rome, Jesus was not a major player. He had, however, brought a lot of attention to himself.  Enough so, that he was deemed a threat and special care was being taken after his death.  His body was to be buried and specially guarded.  

The amount of spices Nicodemus brought for preparation was estimated to be from 75 to 100 pounds.  That is a lot of spice but the weight signified was more than just physical.  It spoke volumes about the personage being prepared for burial.  The more important the individual, the more spices used for burial.  Josephus records the funeral preparation of  the famous Rabbi Gamaliel used a mere 40 pounds of spices.  My prior estimation of Nicodemus' final act had always been "too little, too late".  But was it?

If Nicodemus thought it was a threat to approach Jesus when he was alive, what was he thinking now?   He was really putting himself on the line.  The extravagance of the gift was a confession, a very public declaration of the importance he assigned to the life and ministry of Christ.  A man who had been executed for His actions.  This was a bold and dangerous move on Nicodemus part.

Well, I would like to tell you that I, like Nicodemus, made a bold, public declaration.  That I answered the homeless lady with a resounding, "Yes" and carted her and her stuff to the destination she had in mind.   But I did not.  I mumbled an excuse and quickly departed.  On the way home, I mentally listed the reasons I had declined.  She was insane, I could be in danger.  Maybe I had misunderstood her, she really had not asked me for a favor.

But by the time I got home, I could not even fool myself.  I told my husband where I was going and who I was transporting - our city homeless lady.   Amidst his heated protests, I got in my car and returned to the pharmacy.  Though my intent was honest, my timing was off.  She had moved on.  I drove down the street, half-heartedly, looking for her, but she was not to be found.  I was sad and relieved at the same time.

Regret is a very sad and empty feeling.  But if it spurs someone to future action, maybe it is not in vain.  I hope so, for both of us.....

Body of Evidence

In Copenhagen, there is a statue of Thomas, the Twin, the disciple of Christ.  It is said to picture a thoughtful, meditative man that holds a rule in his hand.  I think that interesting.   

Thomas the Doubter?  Perhaps a finger beside his brow or a quizzical look upon his face.  After all isn't he the disciple who lacked faith, that did not believe Christ had risen.  No, he is not.   Thomas does not deserve this moniker.  

I am so against the one-dimensional way of looking at people.  We have so little time in our society today to really come to know a person.  For one, we don’t have the time to invest in them.  We don’t have the minutes to spend with them, to get to know someone. So we base our assessment on a few, brief bits of data.  We first take in the superficial look of a person.  Then we add a handful of comments they have made or more likely have been made about them.  Top it off with an action or two.  And voila, we have it!  We have summed up a man or a woman and that is that!

I think that is how it is with Thomas.  His whole life is summed up in three words.  Thomas the Doubter,  I think this unfair, always have

All that we know of Thomas is found in the gospel of John.  Our body of evidence in this case is limited.  There are three different passages  that shed light on the person of Thomas.

The first is found in John 11.  Jesus has heard of the illness of His friend Lazarus.  He tells His disciples He is going to Judea, to Bethany, the home of Lazarus and his sisters, Mary and Martha.

The disciples immediately remind Him that the people in Judea tried to stone Him just recently and they beg Him not to return.  But Jesus is adamant that He is going.  Thomas speaks, following Jesus' declaration.

¹⁶ Then Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, Let us go too, that we may die along with Him.

Thomas had been with Jesus in Judea when the opposition tried to stone Him.  He had felt the fear the other disciples had felt.  But He was the only one to voice his willingness to follow Jesus, even to, what may well have been, their death.  Thomas the Brave.  Thomas the Outspoken.  Thomas the dare to be Martyr.  Why had not one of those labels been attached to Thomas? 

The second time we get a glimpse of Thomas is at the Last Supper

Jesus is speaking to them of His leaving

³ And when I go and make ready a place for you, I will come back again and will take you to Myself, that where I am you may be also.

⁴ And where I am going, you know the way.

⁵ Thomas said to Him, Lord, we do not know where You are going, so how can we know the way?

⁶ Jesus said to him, I am the Way and the Truth and the Life; no one comes to the Father except by Me.

⁷ If you had known Me, you would also have known My Father. From now on, you know Him and have seen Him.

Remember that ruler?  Thomas could have been the person in the group that planned the journeys.   He may have picked the paths, the roads, made sure everyone got where they needed to be.  When Jesus said you know the way.  Thomas said, "Wait a minute - did I miss something.  Let me get out my GPS, give me those coordinates again.   Where is this hostel you are preparing for our  accomodations?" There would be no way to follow if they weren't given proper directions.  Thomas the Dedicated, Thomas the Bold, Thomas the Follower?  No, those names did not stick either

The last occurrence is what we study this Sunday.  I have often wondered why Thomas was not with the other disciples.  When Mary came from the tomb and told them she had seen Jesus, only two cared to even check out her story.   If they had believed the women's stories, why would they have remained behind those closed doors when Jesus came to them in that room?  They would have been out seeking Him.  Thomas was not with them. Maybe he was doing just that?   

When Jesus appeared to those hiding there, the first thing He did was to show them His hands and his side.  He did not wait for them to ask, He knew what they needed.  Then and only then did joy take the place of their fears. They also received the Holy Spirit.  

I don't know if you have been in a revival or spiritual retreat where a group of folks accept Christ as their Savior and receive the Holy Spirit.  They can be downright giddy and a little overbearing.  I can imagine when Thomas did get together with the eleven, they all appeared a little drunk, much like those at Pentecost might have appeared.  Plain spoken, concrete Thomas needed proof.   He had believed with all his heart in Jesus, his beloved Savior, and before he laid that broken heart on the line again, he needed proof.  When Jesus walked in the room, once more, He knew just what Thomas needed, not unlike those He had greeted earlier.  He offered physical proof.  But Thomas did not need to touch His hands or side.  He not only acknowledged his Lord Jesus, but He acknowledged His deity, His divinity, His Kingship over his life 

The body of evidence was enough to convince Thomas.   

The body of evidence?

What is His body of evidence?  I guess now it is you and me.  We are the Body, we are the evidence.  

How are we doing with that?  

Does the world see nail prints in His Hands.  Do they see how we  have suffered and yet believe.  Do they see our broken, bleeding side?  How we have sacrificed ourselves for each and every one of them?  Do they feel His love?  Do they see His love?  Do they know we are the love?

I wonder?