Poor Thomas. Even though all it took was one encounter with the risen Christ for him to believe, he’s known throughout all time for his doubt. Maybe that’s not so much about him but about us. It’s good to know we have an ally in our doubt.

The reality is that none of the disciples has perfect faith. Even when Mary Magdalene comes and announces that Christ has risen, the other disciples stay locked in where they are. Christ comes and appears to them, but nothing changes. A week later, they’re in exactly the same place, doors locked, living in fear. How can we fault Thomas for not believing? The other disciples say they believe but don’t act like they do. At least Thomas, who wasn’t even there, is honest. And if he hasn’t had an experience of the risen Christ, how can he believe? Christ doesn’t seem to be offended by Thomas’ doubt. In fact, he comes back to the locked room and invites Thomas to touch his wounds. He invites Thomas to believe. And so, Thomas believes.

Years ago, when I was in college and wrestling with my faith, a friend quoted her pastor to me, saying, “There’s a difference between questioning and doubting. Questioning is okay, but doubting is wrong.” I’ve reflected on that over the years, and I have to say, I disagree. Questioning is okay, and doubting is okay too. I’ve had plenty, plenty of doubts along the way. God doesn’t seem to mind. God always wants to be close to me, and doubt can be an opening for God to come closer and show me who God is. Profound, deep, gut-wrenching doubt can feel like a locked door, but as we’ve seen, a locked door is no match for the risen Christ. I have come to believe, not because it’s a nice thing to do, but because I’ve experienced God. God has loved me deeply, surprised and wooed me, pushed a little, and gentled me into faith. Sometimes, in a moment of doubt, it can help to evoke past experiences of God, but sometimes my doubt is so great that God is going to have to go ahead and grace me with a whole new experience. So, that’s what God does.

Right now, we too are locked inside with a whole lot of fear. We fear an unseen enemy, an invisible destruction that hides until it makes itself known in devastating ways. And our hiding behind locked doors is devastating too. Both the thing we’re hiding from and the hiding itself can test our belief. When I’m struggling with loneliness, sadness, and anger, it’s hard to believe in relationships with people I’m separated from, in safety for myself and loved ones, and that God will transform this situation. It’s not just the pandemic, though. Whenever I’m going through a hard time, whenever I’m trying to grow and allow some part of me to die and be transformed into something else, it’s hard to believe that God can bring resurrection from death.

My transformation is not much like Christ’s rising; mine is a long, slow, cell-by-cell growth that can’t be seen with the naked eye, like a butterfly in a cocoon. Christ had, what? Like a couple of days in a tomb and then – bam – he is risen. But like me, his followers took a while to catch up with him. Their transformation was a gradual dawning, slow and hard to detect. He breathed peace upon them, and a week later they were still in the same place with no obvious change. But they were changing. They eventually left that room. Peter and a few more went back to fishing, and the others picked up some remnant of the life they had before. However, even if some things seemed the same, each one of them was not the same person who fished or collected taxes or even followed the man Jesus with only a minimal understanding of who he was. After experiencing the risen Christ, each of his followers was transformed too, and everything, from the way they understood him to how they were in the world, changed.

This pandemic will change us too. We will not emerge from our locked spaces the same as we were when we entered them. I don’t just mean we’ve lost our naïveté, which we have, or that masks will become a fashion statement, which they will. I mean that we will be transformed from within. I can only speculate about what that change will be like, but I believe that it will be. Like the risen Christ, we’ll probably still bear some wounds, physical or emotional, or both. However, there will also be something like new life emerging from within each of us. It will likely be gradual; we can physically leave the cocoon of our houses but our inner transformation will probably take time to make itself known.

It’s hard to believe, and sometimes I don’t. But Christ gently invites me: “Do not be unbelieving but believe.” A slow transformation is taking place. I may have to believe it when I see it, but I trust that God, who is with me, will use this time of fear, doubt, and transformation to move me closer to God.

By Sister Leslie Keener, CDP

Sister Leslie Keener, CDP is the director of God Space, a community-building spirituality ministry in Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky. She’s a Sister of Divine Providence with a Masters in Ministry and a Certificate in Spiritual Direction and Retreats from Creighton University. She directs retreats, meets with people for spiritual direction, and serves as the vocation director for her community. She also serves on the Coordinating Council of Spiritual Directors International. She enjoys music, dancing, meaningful conversations, and Easter candy.