Proof of Life: Thomas and Our Doubts
The Twin We All Carry
We all know the moment near the end of John’s Gospel when Thomas demands to see the resurrected Christ. He says, “I’m not going to believe unless I can see him, talk to him, touch him.” Our instinct is often to cast him as the bad guy—if only he had more faith, if only he didn’t doubt.
And yet, if Thomas is meant to represent something about us, then maybe there’s something really important here. His very name means twin. Throughout church history, Christians have identified him as the twin of every believer. If that’s true, then maybe we all need to see some proof of life.
A Desire We Understand
Think about it. After Jesus dies and rises, Mary Magdalene insists—against all reason—that Jesus is alive. Then the other disciples get to see him, to talk with him, to experience him. But Thomas? He simply says, “I want that too. I want to see Jesus. I want to touch resurrection if I’m going to trust my life to it.”
That doesn’t make him the antagonist. It makes him honest. And the beautiful thing is that Jesus doesn’t scold him. He meets him in that moment, granting the very proof Thomas asks for. It’s as if Jesus acknowledges that faith and doubt are twins, and none of us ever get one without the other.
Proof of Life Today
Of course, that doesn’t mean we’ll all get to touch Jesus’ hands. The story makes that clear. But it does remind us that Thomas stands in for us—our doubts, our questions, our need to see faith made real in the world.
I know I won’t get to touch his hands. I’ve made my peace with that. But if I’m going to say with any integrity, “I believe in Jesus,” then I, too, need to see proof of life.
For me, that proof looks like this: Jesus’ way changing something in me. It looks like becoming a bit more kind, a little more generous. It looks like discovering that my story is larger than I thought, that it now makes room for neighbors I never expected. It looks like reconciliation, healing, and growth. It looks like pride being softened and courage being strengthened. It looks like becoming, little by little, a better human being than I was yesterday.
The Gift of Doubt
And this is why Thomas matters. He reminds me that it’s okay to say, “Jesus, I need to see that.” Because if I can glimpse—even faintly—the transformation Jesus brings, then I can begin to trust what might be possible tomorrow.
That’s why I’ve come to hope I never wake up without a doubt. Because doubt keeps me searching for proof of life. Doubt keeps me chasing after the transformation Jesus promises. And that pursuit—that hunger for the life he offers—is what makes all the difference for my tomorrow.
That kind of change is worth following.
