Have you seen Jesus?
I’ve been looking for him.
I met him as a child.
He was rugged
but he liked to hold children on his lap.
He smiled and laughed a lot.
He was the kindest friend imaginable.

Sometimes when I felt sad or alone
I would pray –
“Hi Jesus. It’s me. Remember me?”
He always did.
Then the tears running warm down my face
made me feel like I was alive again and not dead,
like I was found and no longer lost.

I’m not a boy anymore.
Life has become way more complicated.
There never seems to be enough time.
And I get tired from the grind.
I only wish I still had time to stop
and consider the lilies.

~            ~            ~

Thomas wasn’t there on the first day of the week –
the day Jesus came and stood among the disciples
behind their closed doors of fear.
Thomas didn’t hear the words of peace
or see the Lord’s wounded hands or side.
How could he know for sure that the Lord had even been there,
though the others assured him?

Oh, how he missed Jesus –
the ache was almost unbearable.

Seven long days later – what felt like an eternity –
they were gathered again in the same room.
This time Thomas was there,
though his heart did not possess the others’ joy.

Again Jesus came and stood among them.

Jesus said to Thomas,
“Put your finger here and see my hands.
Reach out your hand and put it in my side.
Do not doubt but believe.” (John 20:27)

Thomas reached out,
and in his reaching out
his heart flooded with memories –
meals for hungry crowds,
the Master’s voice teaching,
miracles of healing,
offers of forgiveness,
walking the dirt roads of Galilee and Judea,
reclining by each table with its bread and wine,
praying for the kingdom to come.

“My Lord and my God!” Thomas nearly shouted,
his heart bursting with rediscovered joy.
It was like being alive again after feeling so dead inside,
like being found,
like coming home.

Words (c) 2012 Mark Lloyd Richardson