The Rev. Dr. Kenneth H. Saunders III
Greeneville, TN
The Second Sunday of Easter
April 12, 2026
The disciples are hiding. The doors are locked. The room is tense. Fear has settled in. They have seen too much. They have lost too much. And now they do not know what comes next.
They are afraid... afraid of what might happen to them because they followed Jesus, afraid of being cast out, rejected, or even worse. And in many ways, that fear is not just theirs. It reflects the experience of the early Christian community... a people trying to hold onto faith while navigating tension, uncertainty, and even exclusion.
And if we’re honest, it reflects something in us too. Moments in us when faith feels fragile. Moments around us when the world feels uncertain. Moments when we are not quite sure what comes next.
And into that space... into the fear and uncertainty... Jesus comes. Not by opening the door. Not by removing the threat. But by standing among them and saying, “Peace be with you.”
Jesus appears in that upper room, not once, but twice. Peace... not as the absence of trouble, but as the presence of Christ there, in the middle of it. And then he shows them his hands and his side. The wounds, the marks of his crucifixion, are still there. Still there, because the resurrection doesn’t erase what happened and what he suffered. It transformed it.
And then Jesus speaks the words that change everything for them: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” The story is not over. Their fear is not the end. They are being called forward. The same God who sent Jesus into the world in love now sends them into the world with that same love. And they are not sent alone.
Jesus breathes on them and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” The Ruach, the very creating breath of God... the breath that gave life in the beginning, is given to them again. And there in that closed-off room, they are refreshed, renewed. Re-created. Given what they need for what lies ahead of them. And part of what lies ahead is this: They are to go out into the world and “forgive.” Jesus says, “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven…”
This is not about pretending that harm doesn’t exist. It’s not a cover-up of the cruelty… It is about participating in the life of God. A life rooted in mercy, compassion, and restoration. We forgive because we have been forgiven. We extend grace because grace has been extended to us. And that kind of life is not easy. But it is the way of Christ.
Then our story from John’s gospel turns to Thomas. Thomas, who was not there the first time. Thomas, who missed the great moment when Jesus appeared to the others. Thomas heard the others say, “We have seen the Lord.” Thomas must have felt left out because he wasn’t able to share in their experience. And still, he stays with them.
This made me ask: where was Thomas when the others were cowering in the room, hiding from the religious authorities? Where was Thomas, the one who boldly said, "Let us go too, that we may die with him," speaking of Jesus deciding to return to Judea? Where was Thomas? The scripture doesn’t tell us, but we can assume that he was bold enough to go out when the others weren’t. That he was willing to take the risk rather than hold onto his fear.
Thomas has been told that the Lord appeared to them when he wasn’t there, and this caused him to be unsure… And even in his uncertainty, Thomas remains there with them. Connected to them as part of the community.
A week later, Jesus comes to them again. “Peace be with you.” And this time, Thomas is with them. Jesus turns to Thomas and says, “Put your finger here… See my hands… Do not be unbelieving, but believe.” There is no shame in these words. Only invitation. And then Thomas responds with a confession that echoes throughout the ages: “My Lord and my God.”
Jesus then speaks to everyone who would come after those who are gathered there in that closed room, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” This is where we are – this is where we live. We have not stood in that room. We have not seen the nail scars in his hands and feet. We have not touched those wounds. And yet—we are here. We believe.
Each week… We gather. We pray. We share a sacred meal. We return. Even after the great celebration of Easter has passed. Why, because we know something in this story has claimed us. Claimed us in ways that we can’t always explain. We have encountered the living Christ in scripture, in sacrament, and in one another.
The Gospel lesson today ends by telling us why all of this has been written, “So that you may come to believe… and that through believing you may have life.” Not just any life. Abundant life. A life shaped by love and forgiveness. A life grounded in truth. A life sustained by the presence of God. But this life is not passive. It calls us to act. It calls us to follow Jesus into places we may not wish to go. It calls us to live as Jesus lived. To love as Jesus loved. And to walk in his way.
So what does that mean for us here, now? It means, like the first apostles, we are sent. Like the earliest and closest followers of Jesus gathered there in their fear, it sends us into a world that is still fearful, still divided, still searching. It sends us, not with all the answers, but with the peace of Christ. We are sent to embody love. Sent to practice forgiveness. Sent to be signs of hope in the places where hope feels pretty thin.
And when we find ourselves like Thomas, being unsure, with questions, with hesitation, with a longing for clarity... we know that we are not outside the story. We are right in the middle of it. And Christ meets us there. Speaking peace. Giving us comfort. Offering us presence. And calling us forward.
So, this season and always let us live as those who are sent. Let us love as those who are forgiven. And let us trust the presence of Christ among us, here and now. And with our lives, and with our hearts, let us proclaim: “My Lord and my God.”
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