Preached on Sunday, April 27, 2025, the Second Sunday of Easter, at Trinity Cathedral, Little Rock.

“Jesus said to Thomas, ‘Do not doubt, but believe’” (John 20:29).

Every year, the second Sunday of Easter reminds us of one of the deep truths about a life with God: doubt always shows up. Last week, we had the great highs of Easter Sunday, of belief in God’s resurrection, with flowers, and incense, and Mozart, and vestments to boot; but this week, we come face to face with doubt. And a life with God always works like that: there are highs and then lows, moments of great confidence and then great insecurity, moments of faith and moments of doubt. Year after year in the liturgical calendar, and season after season in our own lives, doubt shows up. We should never be surprised by doubt.

Now, we might not be surprised by doubt, but for many of us, we are ashamed of doubt. After all, our Lord commands Thomas––and, therefore, commands each of us––“do not doubt, but believe, have faith.” Do our doubts let God down, then? Do our doubts disappoint or fail God? It’s easy for us to feel the weight of these questions when those inevitable seasons of doubt come along. Heck, just consider how we strap that title onto the poor apostle: “doubting Thomas,” as if the only line in his obituary that matters is this moment of doubt. (It might not surprise you that I’ve never really liked the title “doubting Thomas.”) But that title “doubting Thomas” only proves the point: we are ashamed of our doubts. And surely, our Lord’s command––“do not doubt, but believe”––perpetuates our shame. Right?

Well, let me begin by saying that I do not think we need to be ashamed of our doubts. In fact, I would go so far as saying that we should be thankful for our doubts. We celebrate doubt. Today is a reminder that doubt is always part of our Easter celebrations. For you see, doubts are opportunities for drawing closer to God. Our questions and reservations are the fertile soil in which a life with the living Lord can grow. So it was for Thomas, and so it is for us, here and now.

The Trinity Book Club just started reading Tim Keller’s best-selling book, The Reason for God: Belief in an Age of Skepticism. (It’s not too late to join us! Wednesdays at 6:30 pm.) Well, Keller has this to say: 

A faith without some doubts is like a human body without any antibodies in it. People who blithely go through life too busy or indifferent to ask hard questions about why they believe as they do will find themselves defenseless against either the experience of tragedy or the probing questions of a smart skeptic. A person’s faith can collapse almost overnight if [they] have failed over the years to listen patiently to [their] own doubts, which should only be discarded after long reflection. Believers should acknowledge and wrestle with doubts—not only their own but their friends’ and neighbors’. It is no longer sufficient to hold beliefs just because you inherited them. Only if you struggle long and hard with objections to your faith will you be able to provide the grounds for your beliefs to skeptics, including yourself, that are plausible rather than ridiculous or offensive. And, just as important for our current situation, such a process will lead [us], even after [we] come to a position of strong faith, to respect and understand those who doubt. [1]

In this way, doubt makes our faith strong and resilient. And doubt makes our hearts more compassionate towards others. For those of us carrying doubts today, good. It’s something worth celebrating, because it’s something God loves to work with.

But that command still lingers in the air: “do not doubt, but believe, have faith.” What do we make of it?

This command from our Lord stands as a reminder that doubt––like belief or faith––is something we do. Doubt, like faith, is an activity. “Doubt not,” says Jesus. And although doubt is an activity we need not be ashamed of, it is an activity nonetheless, and like all activities, we have some agency with it.

English prevents us from seeing this clearly, I think. Remember, this book of the Bible is written in Greek, and in Greek, these two words are literal antonyms. “Faith” and “doubt,” pistis and apistis. Pistis means “to trust.” It means to take the chance. It means to rely on something. It means take a step towards something, not without questions, but taking that step anyway. Apistis, then, literally means “to distrust.” It means to stay put, maybe even moving backwards, or walking away altogether. It means to refuse. “Doubt” is the choice not to trust.

I hear Jesus’ command not as something that shames our doubts––doubt is to be expected for all Christians, for newcomers and seasoned saints alike––but at the same time, his command is something that reminds us that we have some agency with our doubts. I’ve said before that faith is that strange activity where we don’t do much at all, just letting God be God––and that is true! But we have to remember that that strange activity is still an activity. Faith is something we do. And, so is doubt.

Jesus says to Thomas: “Don’t be disbelieve; believe! Don’t not trust me, but trust me!” The activity of doubt is one of reservation and security and control; the activity of trust is one of willingness and openness and possibility. So it is that Jesus commands each of us. “Just give it a go,” says Jesus. “Give me your hand. Put it here. Reach out towards me. Don’t hold back, but believe.”

It’s no wonder, then, that we include doubt in our Easter celebrations: yes, doubt is always a companion of ours in the life of faith, but also, doubt is something of an opportunity. Doubt is a starting place for us to see what God will bring about in our lives. It’s the jumping off point from which we take a glorious leap. It’s the grave from which new life bursts out. It’s the No from which God raises up a staggeringly beautiful Yes. “Do not doubt, but believe’” (John 20:29).

And what does such belief look like? What does this activity look like? It looks like showing up to Church on a Sunday morning. Coming to Church is an act of faith––each and every time! It’s an act of willingness and openness and possibility. Showing up for a Sunday School class; or opening up your Bible at home; or saying a prayer in the morning for some guidance that day; or maybe saying yes to that family member or friend when you’d rather say no; or saying “I need help” when you know that you need help; or something else you and I can’t possibly imagine yet (but I promise you, you’ll recognize it when it arrives!): all of these are acts of faith, of belief, of reaching a hand toward Jesus Christ, Who is very much alive, Who is very much present with us, Who says to each of us, this very day, “do not doubt, but believe.”

It’s my prayer that we do not shy away from our doubts, nor feel ashamed of them. It’s my prayer that we embrace our doubts, our own, personal, unique opportunities for God to do something in us. And it’s my prayer that, in so doing, we might take the Psalmist’s words as our own: “this is the LORD’s doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes” (Psalm 118:23). Amen.

[1] Timothy Keller, The Reason for God: Belief in an Age of Skepticism (New York: Penguin, 2008), xxiii–xxiv.