The God Who Lets Me Touch His Wounds

Every year when this Gospel comes around, everyone rushes to scold Thomas:
“Blessed are those who believe without seeing.”
As if Jesus were wagging a finger.
As if the whole point were to shame the man who needed a little help.

But this year, I can’t hear it that way.
Because I know myself too well.
I know the places in me where belief flickers like a candle in the wind.
I know the doubts that don’t come from rebellion but from exhaustion, trauma, and the deep ache of being human.

And when I look at Thomas, I don’t see a failure. I see a man who finally said out loud what the rest of us whisper in the dark: “I want to believe… but I need help.”

Not wretched doubting Thomas — blessed curious Thomas.

The one brave enough to ask for what he needed.
The one honest enough to say, “Show me.”
And Jesus — God in the flesh, the One who owes us nothing — doesn’t shame him.
He doesn’t sigh.
He doesn’t roll His eyes.

He steps closer.
He offers His wounds like an open door.
He lets Thomas dig his fingers into the very places where Love bled for him.

And here’s the miracle I’m living right now:
I used to think my doubts disqualified me.
I used to think my unbelief made me unworthy.
I used to think God wanted me to toughen up, get it together, and believe harder.

But He keeps proving me wrong.

He keeps meeting me in the exact places I’m afraid to show Him.
He keeps letting me press my trembling hands into His mercy.
He keeps giving me what I actually need — not what I pretend to need.

The truth is, I’m not the hero of my own faith story.

I’m the one whispering, “Lord, I believe… help my unbelief.”
And He does.
Every time.
So today, I’m not ashamed to stand with Thomas.
I’m grateful.

Because the God who welcomed Thomas’ doubt is the same God who is healing mine —
not by demanding more faith from me,
but by giving more of Himself to me.

A God who lets me touch His wounds is a God who will never abandon mine.

Peace be with you,
joshua