I Serve a Risen Savior

My name is Thomas. I was a disciple of Jesus. Me, I never liked to take things at face value. I always wanted to know for sure, to look at a thing until I saw every side of it. Maybe I was a little bit of a cynic. I remember when Jesus went to Bethany after the death of Lazarus, I really wasn't sure He could make it there alive. But I wasn't about to desert Him, either. He was the first person I ever knew who could answer all the questions I had. And I had a lot of questions, too. Especially about death. That was one of the things He talked about a lot. Death and life and how He was the resurrection and the life. I remember that last conversation we had. He told us He was going away, but we didn't really understand--and yet, I think somehow I had an inkling. But you can bet I wasn't going to leave something like that alone. "Lord, we don't know where you're going--and so how can we know the way to follow you?" He looked at me and answered, "I am the way, the truth, and the life." The way, the truth, and the life? Those were the three things I had always looked for--the things I think everybody looks for if they're honest. Basically, He claimed to be Himself the answer to all the questions I ever had. And I believed Him. But that was before... before it all happened. I was in the Garden when they came to arrest Him. And like the others, I ran like a whipped dog when I should have stood with Him. I didn't see Him again, but the news was everywhere, and I knew every detail as if I had seen it myself. He died. He claimed to be the Way, and His way had led to a vile, ignominious end. He claimed to be the Truth, and He had been framed and overcome by lies. He claimed to be, in Himself, the Life--and He died. Maybe there was some greater meaning to it all, I thought, but I couldn't see it. If He was dead, I could never be sure again. Maybe what He had taught us had been true--and maybe it hadn't been. I had believed it, because of who He was--because of who He claimed to be. But if He was dead, how could I believe anything? What evidence was there that anything was true? Some of the others tried to hold up a little bit of faith, but I could never pretend like that. I had to know for sure; I had to have evidence; I had to have the truth. And as long as He was dead, I never could have that. But...

The name's Cananaean. Simon Cananaean. You don't know much about me, and I like it that way. I've always tried to keep in the background. When you're a Zealot, you have to keep a low profile. And that's what I was--until I met Jesus. Our goal was simple--to drive the Romans out of our home and restore the Jewish kingdom. But He said: "The Kingdom of God is within you." We were going to destroy the things that defiled our homeland, but He said that it is not the things around you that defile you, but the things within you. He claimed to be able to bring about a new kind of kingdom, one not of this world; one which was founded on righteousness, not on violence; one which started in the heart and went outwards instead of the other way around. And I believed Him. I broke with the Zealots and followed Jesus. I was convinced that He could bring a real kingdom, a real revolution. But that was before... before it all happened. I wasn't there for most of it, but I had my contacts and I knew everything that went down. He claimed to be a king, and yet He was killed like an outlaw. He claimed to bring love, and He was brutalized by hate. He claimed to be able to change the world, and He couldn't even save Himself from death. He was supposed to bring freedom, and He died like a slave. Maybe He had been a good man, but His cause meant nothing to me after that. How could I live for the kingdom of a king who was dead? I had lived for His kingdom, because of who He was--because of who He claimed to be. But if He was dead, how could I live for anything? I had to have a leader to follow if I was to go forward. And as long as He was dead, I never could have that. But...

I'm Andrew. You know, Peter's little brother. The other son of Jonas. I was raised on a fishing boat. I knew how to fish before I knew how to talk. It wasn't an easy life. Though our family did all right in the fishing trade, it was still pretty tight sometimes. It always bothered me--getting up in the morning and wondering if you'd have anything to eat the next day, knowing that hunger or satisfaction lies with how many fish happen to wander into your nets. What would we do if we couldn't catch fish? How would we survive if anything happened to our boats or our nets? I used to think and worry about that all the time. I always made sure our boats were in tip-top shape and that the nets were ready to go. Maybe I was a little obsessive about it. Of course, there were other things in my life. I remember going down to hear John the Baptizer when he first came around. He was quite the preacher and it really stirred me. And then when he pointed to Jesus and said, "Behold the Lamb of God!" Well, I was excited, all right, even though I didn't understand anything yet. That was my first meeting with Jesus and I actually laid things aside and followed Him for while. But eventually, I had to go back. I just couldn't get those fish out of my mind. And then there came that one day--the day that Jesus came and visited us back home at the sea. You've probably heard that story from Peter or one of the others. We'd been fishing all night and didn't catch a single thing. And then Jesus told us to cast our nets on the other side. Next thing I knew we had more fish than we knew what to do with. I mean, seriously--I'd always heard that there were lots of good fish in the sea, but I didn't know there were that many. At that moment, I knew I didn't have to worry anymore. I knew this Man had everything under control. But that wasn't the best of it. I remember that day when we had been out in the wilderness, listening to him. Everyone was hungry. I remembered all those hard times back on the sea and how hungry we had been sometimes.  And then some little kid comes up to me--with fish, of all things. A couple fish and some bread. He was worried that Jesus might be hungry and wanted me to share his lunch with Him. So I brought the lunch to Jesus--and, well, I suppose you've heard that story too. Jesus took it and somehow multiplied it so that the entire crowd of people got something to eat. After that day, I knew--I mean, I really knew for sure. There is never any reason to be afraid or to be in need. We are more precious to God than many sparrows, that's what He said. He said if we seek God's kingdom, then God will take care of us. I knew that there was as supply for all our needs. But that was before... before it all happened. I don't even like thinking about it. But I'm sure you know that story, too. He died. He said that God would take care of us--but God didn't take care of Him. He said God would hear our cries, but His cries went unheard. He said we could trust God to be with us, but He died alone. I had trusted Him, because of who He was--because of who He claimed to be. But if He was dead, how could I be sure of anything?If God wouldn't take care of Him, why should I believe that God would take care of me? I needed to know that someone had the power to meet our needs. And as long as He was dead, I could never have that. But...

John the Son of Zebedee. That's what everyone called me. Except for Jesus. He called me the Son of Thunder. And I'm afraid sometimes the nickname was an apt one. I was raised as a fisherman like my brother James and several of our friends. But though my hands were busy with the nets, my head was always somewhere else. I always wondered about God. I never was as fully educated in the Law as I should have liked, and I spent many hours wondering what God was like. I knew He had to be righteous and holy because He had given the Law. I always knew He must look down on the world in anger like the burning face of the sun reflecting off the waters of the Sea. I knew God only cared about maintaining His law. And then I met Jesus. I had followed the Baptizer because I felt that he expressed the anger and holiness of God against the sin of my people. But there was something about Jesus that was different, which I didn't understand, which made me want to follow Him, even though He wasn't what I expected a representative of God to be like. Though I only followed Him a short time then, I became His disciple permanently after I met Him by the Sea when He preached from Peter's boat. And as I followed Him, I came to believe that He was a direct representative of God--and something more than that. Though Peter was the first to say it, I think we all knew, knew that this Man was more than a man, that He was the Light of God which shines in the darkness, the Word of God which speaks to the world, that He had dwelled in the bosom of the Father and had come to the world to declare to us the nature of the God whom we had never seen. Yet He was so different than what I had pictured. I remember how pained He was when James and I wanted to call down fire from Heaven on those Samaritans who rejected Him. I remember how he rebuked me for arguing with some stranger who cast out demons in His name even though he wasn't a disciple. If He was truly the Son of God, then God was very different than I thought. Not that He wasn't a God of holiness--He never minced His words when it came to evil. His words against the Pharisees and hypocrites were every bit as strong as the Baptizer's or as I would have said myself had I had that courage. But there was more. God was not merely holy. God was not merely angry at sin. God was a God of love. God loved us. He pictured God as a shepherd, looking for a lost sheep and as a father, longing for the return of an estranged son. I still remember listening in that night when Nicodemus came to talk to him. He talked about how God sent Him into the world, not to condemn the world, but out of love, in order to save the world. I didn't understand it all, but I knew He meant that God was something I had never imagined--that God loved us, that God loved even sinners--maybe, that God especially loved sinners. That was the way He lived. Though He never condoned or excused sin, yet He never shut someone out from His life. I'll never forget how shocked and even offended I was when He went to dinner with a publican like Zacheous or when he let that evil woman wash his feet. I knew that He was of God and that God loved us. And it changed everything for me. I was still a Son of Thunder, but now it was the joyful thunder of love, not the angry thunder of wrath. But that was before... before it all happened. I was there through every moment of that terrible day. I stood at the foot of His cross as He died. I come to know and to trust His heart--and I saw blood and water come flowing out as that heart was pierced by a Roman spear. He claimed to be the Son of God, and He died like the vilest of men. He claimed to be the Word, and He had been silenced. He claimed to the Light, and He died in darkness. He had tried to calm my thunder, and when He died the whole world was rocked by thunder. And my heart was broken. Had I been wrong from the beginning? He had shown God to me--but He was dead. Had He really been nothing by a clever deceiver? Was the God He showed to me nothing but a deception? Was God truly a God of love or was it all a lie? I had believed His teaching because of who He was--because of who He claimed to be. But if He was dead, how could I know anything? How could I love or follow God, when I no longer knew who God was? I had to know for sure. I needed to have evidence of the love of God. And as long as He was dead, I never could have that. But...

I am Mary of Magdala. I was never sure if I believed in God--but I believed in the Devil. For years, I knew his power first-hand, driven to the brink of madness by his torment. People said I was possessed by seven devils. Most days it seemed more like seven thousand. It seemed that darkness was all I had ever known or ever could know; that darkness was all there was. And then... then I met the Master. Just a word was all it took,  and in an instant the chains which had bound me my entire life were gone as if they had never been--and the darkness melted into the light. Do you wonder that I followed Him as I did? He proved to me that there was a power in the world greater than the power of darkness; that good was truly stronger than evil; that there was hope even for those bound in the power of Satan. He said that He saw Satan fall as lightning from Heaven. Even the Devils fell down and worshipped this man, worshipping Him even as they cursed Him, writhing as defeated foes before their master. More perhaps than any of the others, I knew how strong the power of evil was in the world, what the strength of Satan really was--and yet this Man had the power with a word to counteract that power. I knew this man was something more than a man. He was the one who gave me hope. But that was before... before it all happened. I had traveled to Jerusalem with Him and His disciples on that fateful Passover. I wasn't there when He was arrested, but I heard the news soon afterwards. I was there through every agonizing hour as the darkness gathered around those crosses. I felt as if the world itself were dying with Him. I saw Him hanging there, helpless and bound by the darkness, as I had been helpless and bound for so long. He had promised us freedom from Satan, but His hands and His feet were held fast by nails. He promised us light, and He died in darkness. He promised us victory, and He died in defeat. I had hoped in Him, because of who He was--because of who He claimed to be. But if He was dead, how could I hope for anything? If He could not conquer Satan and save His own life, what protection could I have? I needed to know that someone was strong enough to bring victory, if I was to have hope. And as long as He was dead, I could never have that. But...

John: But I saw the graveclothes folded and laid aside in the empty tomb...

Mary: I talked with Him in the garden...

Simon: I saw Him enter a locked room where I and other disciples waited...

Thomas: I placed my hand in His wounded side...

Andrew: I ate fish with Him beside the sea.

Thomas: I know...

Andrew: I believe...

Simon: I follow...

Mary: I trust...

John: I love...

All together: I serve a risen Savior.

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