When therefore it was evening on that day, which was the first [day] of the week, and the doors shut where the disciples were, through fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in the midst, and says to them, Peace [be] to you.
On the evening of resurrection day, the disciples hid behind locked doors. They were afraid of the Jewish leaders. Then Jesus stood among them and said, "Peace." Why the fear, how did He get in, and why that first word?
The bolted door shows what was in their hearts. No lock could cure it:
Here the closed door showed the fear of the disciples. They were afraid of the Jews. And what could cure their fear? Nothing but fellowship with their risen Lord. And He did not leave them without that cure — blessed be His name. He appeared among them and pronounced His blessing on them. "Peace be to you," He said. "Peace," not because their door was secured, but because Jesus was risen. Who could harm them, while they had in their midst the mighty Conqueror of death and hell?
The shut doors are not just background detail. One writer reads them as a demonstration of what a risen body can do:
On that day the Lord gave the assembled disciples a striking witness of the power of life in resurrection. The doors were shut where they were, for fear of the Jews, yet Jesus came and stood in the midst. Weakness belongs to the natural body. A wall, a closed door, a chain or a thousand other things stop it, unless a miracle happens. Not so the body raised in power, as the Lord here shows them without a word… Nothing here suggests that the doors opened by themselves; everything suggests the opposite.
Here the words do more than greet. One writer draws the line between wishing someone peace and handing it over:
Peace was now not merely wished. It was pronounced with authority, given to them on the warrant of the cross. Jesus now gave peace to them, because He had already made it for them. And this is the peace that we, who are in it, can tell our fellow sinners about. We do not merely say, "Peace be to this house," as the seventy disciples He sent out were told to do — a greeting, a wish for the good of the house. We proclaim to that house the sure, settled, purchased peace, which sinners have a title to, in the blood of the cross.
The same word answers the deepest problem a person has. It also exposes a road that leads nowhere:
He had left peace as His legacy before the cross. Now alive again from the dead, He announces it to His own. How sweet the sound in a world at war with God! It is doubly sweet where earnest souls have tried and failed to make peace with God for themselves. Their sighs and tears and groans could not do it. Neither could their prayers, longings and agony. Neither could their efforts to avoid evil and hold to good. Such people know best that conscience and heart find no solid peace in self-judgment or self-denial, in thinking about God or in working for Him. In fact, the more sincere they are, the less peace they have. They are on the wrong road altogether. Only the blood of Christ's cross can make peace for a sinful man, and faith receives it on His word.
John names the day. One writer notes what set that day apart:
In time that day would receive its fitting name, "the Lord's day" (Revelation 1:10). It is as characteristic of the Christian as the Sabbath was of the Jew. Two things marked it off: the saints gathered together, and the Lord present in their midst. So it was again at the start of the following week (verse 26)… This was not the day of creation rest, nor of law imposed. It was the day of resurrection, and of the grace that joins the believer to its rich and lasting results.
One writer treats that room as the model for every gathering of believers since:
We turn back to this first assembly meeting, this pattern of what every assembly meeting should be. The Lord has now gone up to His Father, but He has not forgotten those He has left in the world. We have His own words: "Where two or three are gathered in My name, there am I among them" (Matthew 18:20). And the Holy Spirit is with all such believers, to make the presence of the Lord as real to the faith and love of His saints as it was to those disciples on that first day of the week.
- Fear — The locked door measured their terror. The cure was not a stronger door but the risen Lord among them.
- Entry — No barrier stops Him. The shut doors show the power of a body raised in resurrection, not a door swinging open by itself.
- Peace — His first word is not a wish but an announcement. The cross has already made peace, and He hands it over on His authority.
- Rest — Self-denial, prayer and self-examination cannot make peace. The more sincere the effort, the less the peace.
- Pattern — First day of the week, disciples gathered, the Lord in the midst. That evening set the pattern believers still meet by.
And having said this, he shewed to them his hands and his side. The disciples rejoiced therefore, having seen the Lord.
The risen Jesus had just spoken peace to His frightened disciples. Then He did something without words: He showed them the marks of His death. Why did the sight of His wounds turn fear into gladness? And why does John name the side rather than the feet?
The greeting came first. Then came the evidence for it.
The Lord comes among His own. He proclaims peace to His disciples, and then shows them His hands and His side. By these wound marks He reminds them of the great work that made peace. Peace does not come by tears or groans or prayers. It does not come by self-judgment or self-denial, by confessions or restitution. It comes only by the blood shed on the cross, received by faith in His word.
He made the peace before He announced it. So it comes as a gift with a right attached, not as a wish.
"Peace be to you," the risen Saviour said to His disciples after He returned to them. When He said that, He showed them His hands and His side. He let them read their title to peace. Peace was now not simply wished for. He announced it with authority, and gave it to them on the ground of the cross. Jesus now gave peace to them, because He had already made it for them.
His sudden appearance raised a question. The wounds answered it, and one writer pictures the moment from inside that room.
His words were wonderful, but what shall we say of His wounds? Put yourself in the place of those men and feel what they felt. His sudden appearance among them must have startled and amazed them. His greeting must have thrilled them to the heart. But would not tears rush to every eye as they looked at His wounds? It was indeed their Lord who stood before them. His wounds were the absolute proof of that. They could doubt no more, and He had suffered those wounds for them. Did they speak? No, even Simon Peter was silent in the presence of the wounds of Jesus.
Luke names the hands and the feet. John names the hands and the side. One writer explains why.
Luke speaks of the Lord's hands and His feet (Luke 24:39), because Luke emphasizes His humanity there. His hands tell of both human and divine work perfectly accomplished. His feet remind us of His lowly walk among men. His side reminds us of the pure love of His heart as the blessed Son of God. The disciples were glad when they saw the Lord. Today we may just as truly see Him, though by faith, and know the same gladness.
They did not produce this joy themselves. He gave it, and the sight of Him was what did it.
Having revealed Himself and pronounced peace, He fills their hearts with joy. "Then the disciples were glad when they saw the Lord." And still it is only as we get our eyes off ourselves and one another, and see the Lord in His beauty, that our hearts will be made glad.
Jesus had promised that their sorrow would turn into joy. That day answered the promise, but not in full.
The point in the "little while" is that the Lord is not going to be lost. As soon as God has accomplished His purposes, He will come again… As far as it went, it came true when He rose again. His disciples did rejoice greatly then, but it was not confined to that. The passage says their sorrow would turn into joy. And it did… In one sense Christ is gone, and yet we have seen Him, so that we are always rejoicing. The full fulfilment will not come until Christ returns.
What the disciples saw in that room, heaven still sees. John later saw the Lamb in glory.
In the middle of the heavenly scene stood a Lamb as slain. The disciples saw the wound prints in Him as risen (John 20:20, 25, 27); John now sees them in Him glorified. Heaven treasures the memories of Calvary… There He was wounded and slain (Isa. 53); here He is the centre of heaven's strength and glory, yet He still bears in His Person the marks and scars of the cross.
- Peace first. He announced peace before He showed the wounds, because He had already made peace. It was not a wish but a gift, resting on the cross.
- Proof next. The wounds settled who He was. The same Person who died stood alive among them, and even Peter had nothing to say.
- Side, not feet. John records the pierced side, which speaks of the love of the Son of God. Luke's hands and feet tell of His work and His lowly walk.
- Gladness follows. Joy came from seeing the Lord, and still comes only when our eyes come off ourselves and one another and rest on Him.
- Marks forever. John saw those same wound prints on the Lamb in glory. Heaven keeps the memories of Calvary, and our full joy waits for His return.
[Jesus] said therefore again to them, Peace [be] to you as the Father sent me forth, I also send you.
On the evening of the resurrection day, the risen Jesus stands among frightened disciples behind locked doors. He speaks peace a second time, and turns that peace into a commission. Two questions follow. Why does He speak peace twice? And how far does "so I am sending you" reach — to the apostles only, or to every believer?
The repetition is not filler. Commentators read the first greeting as gift and the second as marching orders.
The first word He speaks is peace — "Peace be with you." Precious word! It was not the forgiveness of sins only, blessed as that may be, but "Peace be with you." Peace is much more than sins forgiven. And "when He had said this, He showed them His hands and His side." He showed them the sign and witness of the shed blood of His cross, by which He had made peace... But He speaks to them again and repeats the words, "Peace be with you." Notice that this second time it is not so much personal. It introduces their mission... So the first words of peace were for their own enjoyment, as I understand it. The second declaration comes as the introduction to their mission. This is what they are sent to bring to others.
Peace is not the reward at the end of service; it is the ground the servant stands on before he moves.
He had given them proofs of His resurrection, and proof that in His body He was the same Jesus. Now He sets them in this perfect peace as the starting point of their mission. The Father is the eternal and infinite fountain of love, and He had sent the Son. The Son lived in that love and bore witness to it. He also bore witness to the peace which the Father spread around Himself, where sin had no existence. Jesus was rejected in His mission. On behalf of a world where sin existed, He made peace for all who would receive the testimony of the grace that made it. He had brought His disciples into that peace by the forgiveness of sins through His death. Now He sends them out from the middle of it, to bear witness to it in the world.
The room that evening was not an apostles-only meeting.
Now let us put this question to our own hearts: Do we remember that Christ has sent us in this way? The Lord is not speaking here about apostles only. I maintain that every Christian has a mission. In this very passage our Lord shows that it is true of every one of God's people. For not only the apostles met there, but "the disciples" as a whole, whether men or women. Indeed, we know that one of the apostles was not there on this occasion — Thomas. It does not say, "Then the apostles were glad," but "Then the disciples were glad when they saw the Lord." ... The Lord takes us out of the world by His death and sends us into it by His resurrection.
The little word "as" sets the model. What the Son did for the Father, His people now do for Him.
Christ came from the Father to make Him known to us as He knew Him: we come from Christ to make Him known as we know Him. This is true ministry, a happy and blessed thing, but serious in its character.
The manner matters as much as the message. He arrived without rank or platform.
He had come into a hostile world in lowly grace, taking no official place, but in beautiful moral reality representing His Father. This is to be the character of the assembly — not of this world, but sent into it to represent the Lord Jesus.
Being sent assumes you no longer belong where you are going.
His Father had sent Him into the world for His glory, and to bear witness to the truth. His work was done, and He was about to take up His place again at the Father's right hand. But He never leaves Himself without a witness. So the disciples must take His place in this scene. Notice their place and ours. They are taken out of the world. They are heavenly persons, because they are joined to Christ. And they are sent into the world to bear witness for Him.
The commission does not stand alone. The next verse supplies the strength for it.
He says again, "Peace be with you," to send them out into the world clothed and filled with that peace, wearing it like shoes on their feet, even as the Father had sent Him. He gives them the Holy Spirit for this purpose, so that by His power they might carry the forgiveness of sins to a world bowed down under the weight of sin.
- Peace made. He shows His hands and His side. He made the peace He speaks by the shed blood of His cross.
- Peace given. The first greeting is for their own hearts. It is much more than sins forgiven.
- Peace sent. The second greeting turns the gift into an errand. They carry to others what they have received.
- Peace patterned. As the Father sent the Son to make Him known, so Christ sends His own to make Him known as they know Him.
- Peace empowered. He breathes the Spirit on them, so the message they carry travels with His power, not theirs. And He gives this commission to disciples, not to apostles alone.
And having said this, he breathed into [them], and says to them, Receive [the] Holy Spirit
On resurrection evening the risen Jesus stood among His disciples behind locked doors and breathed on them. Commentators tie this act to the creation of Adam, and ask what the breath gave, and how it relates to Pentecost.
The act points back to how the first man came to life.
Words of commission came first. Then came words of impartation, joined to an unusual action. He breathed on — or, more correctly, into — them, and said, "Receive Holy Spirit," for the definite article "the" is missing in the original. We must notice the connection between this and the creation of Adam in Genesis 2:7. God formed his body from the dust of the ground. But the spiritual part of him came into being when the Lord God breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and so he became a living soul. Our Lord is the last Adam, a quickening or life-giving spirit, as we read in 1 Corinthians 15:45. Here we see Him breathing into His disciples His own risen life.
The contrast is not only in the gift but in the giver. Adam received; Christ gives.
He is not Himself breathed into, as the first man was, but breathes into others. As the life-giving Spirit, He communicates spiritual, divine life. This is the very thing we have seen to be the essential element in new birth. In this way He is the Author of a new creation, higher in character than the old. That is clearly what His present action symbolises.
The disciples already believed and already had life. So what did this breath add? Writers tie it to the promise of John 10:10.
He had come that they might have life. This breathing was so that they might have it more abundantly (John 10:10), and have it in the risen Christ. That is a condition in which it had never existed before, with an increase of power never before connected with it. So it is not "receive life," nor "the Holy Spirit," but "Holy Spirit," as the breath of the life in the power of the risen Lord.
Kelly sets that new condition against the old.
Full victory already achieved and made ours in Christ is very different from life struggling with death. It is different from life with the written record of legal demands still uncancelled and standing against us. It is different from life not yet delivered from the power of the evil that surrounds it. It is different from life seeking after what is good yet failing, and life trying to avoid what is bad, yet somehow drawn into it again and again.
Commentators keep this moment separate from Acts 2.
The Lord's own words also show that He did not regard the action in John 20 as anticipating the special blessing of Pentecost in any way. (See Luke 24:49; Acts 1:4-5.)... What the disciples received in this way was the Holy Spirit as the power of life, corresponding to what we find in Romans 8:1-11. They still had to wait until the day of Pentecost to receive the indwelling Spirit — as power, as the anointing, as the pledge, the seal and the Spirit of adoption.
Why then use the Spirit's name at all? Hole gives the reason.
His own life as the risen Man is in the energy of the Holy Spirit.
The gift is not private. It goes with peace, and with being sent.
He says again, "Peace be with you." He sends them out into the world clothed and filled with that peace, their feet shod with it. He sends them just as the Father had sent Him. He gives them the Holy Spirit for this purpose. In His power they were to carry the forgiveness of sins to a world bowed down under the yoke of sin.
Some limit this gift and the commission with it to the apostles. Kelly answers by asking who the Lord was speaking to.
To whom did the Lord speak that day? Not to the apostles only, nor even to all of them, but to the disciples... The moment we take the word as it is written we see clearly that what He said applies to all.
- Breath. As God breathed into Adam in Genesis 2:7, so the last Adam breathes into His own — the first act of a new creation.
- Life. Not life for the first time, but life "more abundantly" — the same life, now held in the condition of the risen Christ.
- Spirit. Here the Spirit comes as the power of that life, not yet as the indwelling Spirit given at Pentecost.
- Peace. Peace frames the breath. They go out filled with it, carrying forgiveness to a world under the yoke of sin.
- All. He spoke to the disciples, not to the apostles only. What He gave that evening applies to all of them.
whose soever sins ye remit, they are remitted to them; whose soever [sins] ye retain, they are retained.
On the evening of His resurrection, Jesus stands among His gathered followers and hands them authority over the forgiving of sins. Who received this, and can people decide where a soul stands with God forever?
Older translations read "remit" and "retain" sins. The writers quoted below use those words.
The room was not full of apostles only. One writer weighs the claim that this gift was for apostles alone:
But someone will say, "That was apostolic." Let us allow that for the moment. The fact remains that it was men who acted like this. No doubt they acted for God, but still men remitted sins. But if we look at the chapter we see that there is no ground for saying it was apostolic. It says the disciples were assembled, not apostles. And John 21:2 shows that "disciples" in these last chapters of John does not mean only apostles. It calls Nathanael one of the disciples, and we know he was not an apostle.
Christ gave them His Spirit for a purpose: to act for Him once He was gone.
He was sharing His Spirit with the company, so that they could act for Him on earth after He had left it. This gave them power to receive, or to refuse, anyone who came to them claiming to be a believer. When such people were received into the company, their sins were forgiven. Their past history, their acts, their ways before conversion were not held against them. They were forgiven. So the believers at Damascus received Paul, who had once persecuted the Church.
Commentators call this "administrative" forgiveness. One writer explains what he means by that word:
They were the administrators of it in the world — first in preaching the gospel, if you like, but afterwards in the proper administrative sense... And yet, if such a person is a believer, he has eternal life and forgiveness the whole time. That is what I mean by administrative. It is not the forgiveness in which the soul is justified. It is forgiveness given now, in the ways and government of God.
One writer shows how this works out in practice:
It is a picture of the assembly that was about to be formed at Pentecost — and this is the assembly's function. They have authority from God to retain or to remit sins. This is not at all a question of eternal forgiveness; it is administration, or discipline. For instance, when the assembly receives a soul from the world, what is this but remitting sins? Take the opposite case. If a person is refused fellowship, or is put away after being received, that is the retaining of sins.
One writer points to how the first Christians actually did this:
The apostles never undertook to forgive sins in an official way. This passage does not mean that. It speaks of the discipline of an assembly of disciples, acting by the Holy Spirit, in the name and on the authority of the Lord Jesus Christ. For example, when the assembly at Corinth put the evil-doer out from among them, it was retaining of sins. And when they received him back, on the ground of his repentance, it was a remitting of sins.
One writer marks out where this power is used, and where it stops:
What is called administrative forgiveness is a power the Lord entrusted to the Assembly to use on earth. It may be needed when people are received into fellowship at the Lord's Table, or when someone who was put away in discipline is restored. But in neither case would administrative forgiveness be right until God had first granted forgiveness to that person. In neither case is it a substitute for God's forgiveness. This passage in John (20:23) is the only authority from the Lord for receiving people to the Table. Matthew 18:17-18 is His own authority for binding and loosing in the exercise of discipline.
The verse has suffered from both overreach and neglect, and one writer names both before drawing out its first and simplest use.
Rome, and some churches like her, have built monstrous claims on it. They say that forgiveness of sins for eternity is in the hands of the so-called Church — really the clergy. On the other hand, Protestants have shrunk from its plain and simple teaching. They have neglected its use completely... It is not a question of our remitting them for eternity. God alone can do that. It is this: we are in the scene where Christ is not. Knowing what He has accomplished, the evangelist is to go out and proclaim the good news of forgiveness to people. Every Christian should be an evangelist like this at heart.
Commentators differ on emphasis. Some stress the assembly's action in receiving and disciplining. Others begin with the preaching of forgiveness to the world.
- Shared — Christ first gives His Spirit, so the company can act for Him once He is gone.
- Given — He speaks to disciples gathered together, not to apostles as officials.
- Administrative — not the forgiveness that justifies a soul, but forgiveness in God's present government and ways.
- Practised — receiving someone from the world remits sins; putting a person away, as at Corinth, retains them.
- Bounded — it never creates God's forgiveness and never replaces it. It belongs to no clergy: every Christian can carry the news of forgiveness to others.
But Thomas, one of the twelve, called Didymus, was not with them when Jesus came.
The verse marks Thomas three ways at once: one of the twelve, a man with a nickname, and a man who was somewhere else. Commentators ask two things of that empty place: what kind of man he was, and what his absence cost him.
John is the only Gospel writer who lets us hear Thomas speak, and what he says shapes how we read his absence here.
"Now Thomas, one of the twelve, called the Twin," was not with his brothers on that memorable first day of the week. As the Lord looked on His disciples He must have missed him. Why was he not there? and where was he? This Thomas was an unusual character. He was not talkative and excitable like his friend Simon Peter. He was not trusting and companionable like John. He was a man on his own. His words were few and he was apparently of a dull, determined and materialistic turn of mind. He would take nothing on trust. Yet when he did speak it was to the point and there was no mistaking his meaning. Only John records his sayings, and the Holy Spirit who inspired him to write had a purpose in that.
That reserve was not coldness toward Christ.
He had thrown in his lot with his Master and would share His fortunes in life and in death, whatever others might do. He had a mind of his own, and it was made up. But it was a dull mind, a pessimistic mind. At that time he saw nothing ahead of his Lord but death. He had affection for Him, there can be no doubt about that, but faith and spiritual understanding were greatly lacking.
The verse gives Thomas a second name. The ESV translates it as "the Twin"; older versions keep the Greek form, Didymus. One writer turns its meaning into a warning for the reader.
His surname, Didymus, is added here. Didymus means "twin," so its inclusion seems to be a reminder that Thomas is not alone in his lack of diligent faith. Perhaps many believers are virtual twins of Thomas!
One writer looks at who was in the room that evening, and at what kept Thomas out.
The disciples were gathered together, and notice, none but the disciples. There was not a Judas there, and Thomas also was not there. I think he missed the finest meeting of all by being absent. Do you know what kept Thomas away? I do not, but very little trifles often keep you and me from gathering together before the Lord. And that is often the time when the Spirit of God gives the most blessed view of Christ to the gathered ones.
Christ had already risen. Thomas's absence changed nothing about that. It changed only what he knew of it — for a full week.
And for one week at least Thomas did not know what the other disciples knew. He had not heard that word, "PEACE BE WITH YOU," nor would he believe those who had. So he did not have that blessed joy which filled their souls, though he as much as they was one for whom Jesus died. "Not with them," the gloomy clouds of unbelief and doubt ruled his soul and hid all the brightness of the RISEN SUN. It was shining in all its beauty and majesty, but he did not see it. The resurrection morning had indeed already begun on the other side of the night of death, but it shed no beams of its light and glory on the path of Thomas.
Why he stayed away, no writer will guess. But absence was not the whole of the problem.
His state of soul matched his absence that day. He resisted the blessed news of the Resurrection, and did not join the gathering of the disciples to share the joy of the Master's presence among them.
One writer reads the second appearance of the risen Lord as a picture of a later day.
What gave such value and preciousness to that first gathering was that "Jesus came". Thomas missed it — he missed the first assembly gathered around the Person of Jesus. In this second appearance of the Lord among His own, we are surely carried in picture beyond the church period to the last days. Then a godly remnant will again be found among the Jews, as pictured in Thomas. Like the Jews, Thomas finds it hard to believe apart from sight and touch.
- Absent. Thomas was one of the twelve and loved his Master. Yet on the evening that mattered most he was not there.
- Unbelieving. His absence and his state of soul went together: he would take nothing on trust.
- Dark. The resurrection was already fact, but for a whole week its light shone nowhere on his path.
- Missed. He lost the finest meeting of all. Small things keep us away too — often when the Spirit gives the fullest view of Christ.
- Twin. The name means "twin," and the warning lands on us: many believers are twins of Thomas.
The other disciples therefore said to him, We have seen the Lord. But he said to them, Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and put my finger into the mark of the nails, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.
Thomas missed the first meeting with the risen Lord, and he refused to believe the ten men who were there. Two questions press here: why did their united word move him so little, and what did his absence cost him?
The other disciples gave Thomas the shortest possible report — they had seen the Lord. He would not take it. He set terms that would prove one thing: the One who appeared was the very One who died.
He was not present on the evening of the resurrection day. That is why he was not ready to accept what the other disciples told him. They packed their testimony into five words of the deepest importance: "We have seen the Lord." In a spirit of stubborn doubt he set his terms. He wanted evidence he could see and touch, evidence of the most certain kind. It had to show clearly that the One who appeared was the One who died on the cross. Without that, he would not believe. In challenging the disciples' testimony he was throwing down a challenge to his risen Lord. If his Lord took it up, His resurrection would be beyond all question for Thomas himself.
This was not one man's word against another's. All the disciples said the same thing, and his own reasoning still overruled them.
At the very least he should have weighed the united witness of all the disciples that they had seen the Lord. But mere natural reasoning so blinds him that he treats their testimony with scorn. He would have to prove it by his natural senses, by seeing and feeling, or he would not believe.
It is easy to write Thomas off as weak. The record of him points the other way — he loved his Master, and his problem was not a soft mind but a hard one.
John 11:16 proves that he loved his Master no less than the other disciples did. John 20:25 proves just as clearly that he was not a hysterical or gullible man. Ten fellow disciples told him that they had seen the Lord. He met them with stubborn unbelief and looked on them as a band of dreamers. His cold, hard reason kept a tight rein on his warmth. A modern rationalist could have spoken his answer to their glad news.
His staying away and his unbelief were not two separate facts. One matched the other, and he stayed in the dark while everyone else was glad.
His state of soul matched his absence on that day. He resisted the blessed news of the resurrection. He did not join the disciples when they gathered to share the joy of the Master's presence among them. He was slow of heart to believe. So he missed the early taste of the blessing and stayed in the darkness of his own unbelief. The rest were full of gladness.
The nickname John records here carries a warning for the reader, since a twin is never one of a kind.
How much he missed simply by being absent! We too will lose a great deal if we willingly stay away from the gathering of the saints of God. His surname, Didymus, is added here. Didymus means "twin," so its inclusion seems to be a reminder that Thomas is not alone in his lack of diligent faith. Perhaps many believers are virtual twins of Thomas!
The proof Thomas demanded was the wound in the hand and the opened side. Those marks answer the question behind his demand: was the risen One the same Jesus who died on the cross?
He bore our sins in His body on the tree, and that body was laid in the grave. It was the same precious body that was raised again, now made alive by the Spirit. His blood had been poured out for our redemption. Thomas saw the marks, and they convinced him. They declare that it was the very same body: the temple raised from death to die no more.
Thomas stands for more than himself here. His pattern — refusing the witness, believing only when he sees — pictures the Jewish nation.
I take it that Thomas' unbelief is a hint. The Jew does not accept by faith the testimony that the Church gives — the testimony of Christianity, and of Christ risen. He believes when he sees, as the Jews will do, according to Zechariah 12 and 13, and owns Him as his Lord and his God.
- Seen. Ten men gave the news in five words of the deepest importance: they had seen the Lord.
- Refused. Thomas was not gullible, and he was not cold-hearted. His hard reasoning scorned the united witness of his friends.
- Absent. His state of soul matched his empty seat — he stayed in his own darkness while the rest were glad.
- Repeated. His name means twin. Many believers still lose out by choosing to stay away from where the saints gather.
- Marked. The nail marks he demanded prove the risen body is the body that went into the grave — raised to die no more.
And eight days after, his disciples were again within, and Thomas with them. Jesus comes, the doors being shut, and stood in the midst and said, Peace [be] to you.
A week has passed since the resurrection evening, and the same room is shut again — this time with Thomas inside. Why did the Lord wait eight days, and why come back for the one man who would not believe?
The second meeting falls on the same day of the week as the first. One writer sees the Lord marking that day out by His own act.
Here the Lord, by His actions, sets apart the first day of the week for His meeting together with His own, in spirit here below.
The disciples met again on that day, and Thomas came with them. What were they expecting?
But on the first day they are together again, and Thomas with them. Does this not show they expected to see the Lord on that day? Otherwise why were they together as before, and Thomas as well? Nor were they disappointed: the Lord appeared, and Thomas believed.
John mentions the shut doors a second time, and a second time they fail to keep the Lord out. One writer sees the whole visit as aimed at the one disciple still in unbelief.
Again the closed doors did not keep Him from His disciples, and what a cheer His greeting must have given them. But this visit seems to have been specially for Thomas, since He spoke to him twice. He looked on him with pity and met his unbelief with infinite grace.
His first word is the one He had already used twice on the resurrection evening. The repetition ties His peace to His presence.
Again, in verse 26, when the doors were shut, Jesus came into the midst of His own. The same words were on His lips: "Peace be with you." This surely stresses that the presence of the Lord among His own brings His own peace with it.
Thomas had spoken his unbelief when the Lord was not visibly in the room.
Why such a pointed word to Thomas? No one had seen the Lord visibly present when Thomas spoke his unbelief. None of the rest had told the Lord about it. Of that we may be sure. But He knew it. He had heard the words of His disciple, and now made Thomas aware of it. Unseen by human eyes, He sees, He hears, He knows all that goes on.
The same grace that exposed him also met him where he stood.
Everyone present eight days earlier is now rejoicing in the full assurance of His glorious resurrection. That does not lessen His loving care for the one who was absent... The Lord takes Thomas up gently yet firmly, on the very ground Thomas had chosen for himself. He lovingly invites him to convince himself in the way his own mind had suggested.
The Lord restored Thomas, but only after a week of doubt he need never have had. One writer draws out what his absence cost him.
Thomas may have thought it made no difference whether he was with the other disciples. But he had to do without the Lord's presence. He had to wait eight days, until the disciples came together on the first day of the week. For there and then the Lord was pleased to reveal Himself to his soul.
One writer looks past the room to a later day. As Thomas believed when he saw the Lord, so Israel will one day see and believe.
It is a wonderful picture of the fruit of Christ's resurrection in the latter day. The picture is not the Church, but "the great congregation" (Ps. 22:25), brought by infinite grace to know and praise the Lord, when He is no longer hidden but visibly reigning. Those before will have had the good portion, which shall not be taken from them — they did not see, yet believed. Israel will see and believe: truly blessed, but not in the same high measure.
- Day — The Lord met His own on the first day of the week, then came back on the next one; His own act marks the day.
- Doors — Shut doors could not keep the Lord out; He stood among them as He had before.
- Peace — His first word both times was peace, showing that peace comes with His presence.
- Grace — He had heard Thomas' words while unseen, and used the man's own demand to win him back.
- Loss — Thomas gained everything in the end, but lost eight days by being absent; the delay is the warning.
Then he says to Thomas, Bring thy finger here and see my hands; and bring thy hand and put it into my side; and be not unbelieving, but believing.
Thomas had said he would not believe until he could see and touch the wounds. Days later the risen Lord walks in and offers him exactly that, which raises two questions: how did Jesus know the demand, and why does He grant it?
Jesus repeats the exact terms Thomas had set — and no one had told Him about them.
Why such a pointed address to Thomas? No one had seen the Lord as visibly present when Thomas spoke his unbelief. No one of the rest had told the Lord about it. Of that we may be sure. But He knew it. He had heard the words of His disciple, and now made Thomas aware of it. Unseen by human eyes, He sees, He hears, He knows all that goes on... Thomas now needed nothing more. It seems he did not touch the Lord, or probe the wound the spear had made. What he saw was indeed the crucified One.
Jesus does not argue with the terms Thomas set. He adopts them.
Everyone present eight days before now rejoices in the full assurance of His glorious resurrection. That does not lessen His loving concern for the one who was absent, who has since fallen so sadly into the grievous sin of unbelief... We grieve at this evidence of sin abounding. Yet far more do we rejoice over the grace that abounded much more. Gently yet firmly, the Lord takes Thomas up on the very ground Thomas had chosen to stand on, and lovingly invites him to convince himself in the way his own mind had suggested.
Jesus points to the nail marks and the wound in His side. That settles a question: was the risen body the same body that died?
He bore our sins on the tree in that body, and that body was laid in the grave. It was the same precious body that was raised again, but quickened now by the Spirit. His blood had been poured out for our redemption. The marks Thomas saw convinced him. They declare plainly that it was the very same body: the temple raised from death to die no more.
The command also touches a faith that stops at the cross and never moves on.
Again, many doubts grow in the heart because there is no faith in a risen Saviour. Too many linger over the cross as if Jesus were still there — as if He were still a dying and not a living Redeemer. On the cross He finished the work. The blood He shed there made peace. But a living Jesus, a risen Jesus, is the object of faith. As He shows you His hands and His side, His words to you are: "Do not disbelieve, but believe."
Those wounds do more than end an argument. They warm a cold heart, so the words reach past Thomas to anyone who has drifted from the Lord.
It was as though He said, "Those wounds were for you. Come near to them, Thomas, see what My love has done for you. Do not doubt Me. Do not stand coldly by with a heart of stone. I want you near Me, to know what I have suffered for you. Do not disbelieve, but believe." ... If you have become cold, if divine things have lost their shine and reality to you, if a distance has come in between you and the Lord, what do you need? You need to come afresh into the realization of what Jesus suffered for you.
Commentators also see a picture here of a whole nation that will believe only when it sees.
Thomas represents the Jews in the last days, who will believe when they see. Blessed are those who have believed without seeing.
Grace met Thomas on his own terms. It will meet that nation the same way.
Grace will stoop to those who demanded signs and tokens before they would believe. When Messiah returns here below, they will stand overwhelmed and ashamed at the fullness of visible proof.
- He hears. Thomas set his terms when Jesus was not visibly present. The Lord answered them word for word. He sees and hears all that goes on.
- He stoops. He does not rebuke the demand. He takes Thomas up on the very ground Thomas had chosen — grace abounding over unbelief.
- He proves. The nail-prints and pierced side identify the risen body as the very body laid in the grave, raised to die no more.
- He warms. Those same wounds say "this was for you," which is the cure for a heart grown cold and distant.
- He will do it again. Commentators see in Thomas a picture of Israel, a nation that will believe when it sees. The blessing goes to those who believe without seeing.
Thomas answered and said to him, My Lord and my God.
The last of Jesus' twelve disciples to believe is the first to say out loud what John's whole book set out to prove. Thomas had refused every witness but his own eyes. Now he stands in front of the risen Jesus and calls Him by the titles a Jew kept for God.
John opened his book by declaring who the Word is. At the very end, a man finally says it out loud:
At last human lips confess who He is, the close of the Gospel answers to its beginning. And it was Thomas who saw and believed and confessed. Not eager Peter. Not John, who had leaned on His breast at the supper. It was Thomas — dull, calculating, materialistic Thomas. The last man of the twelve disciples we would have expected is the one who confesses at the end the truth that the whole Gospel was written to reveal.
Thomas found that Jesus knew the doubts he had spoken in private, and the marks of the cross did the rest.
It seems as though this visit was for Thomas alone, because his Lord addressed him by name twice. He discovered that the thoughts of his heart were not hidden from Him. The wounds he saw in that incorruptible flesh were silent witnesses to him. They said He was the One with power to lay down His life and take it again. The scales fell from his eyes, his heart lost its faithlessness, the glory of the Only Begotten was no longer veiled from him.
Some read the words as a burst of surprise aimed at nobody. The text blocks that reading, and so does what Jesus said next.
Those who deny our Lord's deity have tried to escape the force of this. They treat it as a mere exclamation, aimed at no one in particular. But the record plainly says that Thomas spoke the words to the Lord. In the original language the wording is very emphatic, because he used the definite article twice. The risen Jesus was the Lord and the God to him. What is more telling still, the Lord answered him, "Have you believed because you have seen me?" So He clearly treated Thomas' joyful cry as faith taking hold of FACT.
The silence of Jesus here carries weight. He let a man call Him God and said nothing to correct it.
Suppose the Lord Jesus were not what Thomas confessed Him to be, but only a good and true man. Then He would have rebuked him for speaking foolish words. It would be terrible wickedness for one man to accept from another the worship that belongs to God alone. But He did accept it, because it was His right.
The word "my" makes this personal. The wounds put Thomas under a claim he could never take back.
When Thomas saw the wounds — the wounds his Lord had suffered for him in love — he fell down before Him and cried, "My Lord and my God!" Could he ever claim himself for himself again? If we come to that point, can we claim ourselves for ourselves? … The One who was wounded to death because of His love to us is our Lord and our God. Here we see His twofold claim upon us, and we cannot deny Him.
Several writers read Thomas as more than an individual. He would not believe on testimony; he had to see — and that, they say, is a nation's story.
Thomas, then, stands for the slow mind of unbelieving Israel, who will see the Lord after the present age is over. This is all the more striking beside Mary Magdalene in the earlier verses. She pictures the Christian, taken out of Judaism. She is no longer allowed the old Jewish contact with the Messiah, but is a witness of Him now that He has gone up to heaven.
Another writer reads the very titles Thomas used as part of that picture, set against the names Jesus used in verse 17.
"Lord God" is how the Jew has addressed their covenant God in the past, and how the Jew will address Him in the future. "God and Father," as seen in verse 17, are the names Christians use, since they are linked with Christ in His own relationships.
Thomas is blessed. The next verse says others are more so.
Our Lord has settled it: believing has a value beyond sight. "Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed." That is just the difference between the Jews when their blessing comes, and the Christian, whose blessing now is greater in moral value.
- Sight — Thomas would believe nothing he could not see and touch. The wounds in the risen body convinced him.
- Speech — Thomas said the words to Jesus, in emphatic form, and Jesus answered by calling them faith.
- Silence — He did not correct the worship, and that silence is one of the strongest proofs of who He is.
- Surrender — the possessive "my" turns a confession of deity into a claim on the whole of a life.
- Still greater — Thomas believed because he saw; Jesus calls those who believe without seeing more blessed still.
Jesus says to him, Because thou hast seen me thou hast believed blessed they who have not seen and have believed.
Thomas has touched the proofs he demanded and confessed his risen Master. The Lord answers with a blessing that reaches past that room to everyone who would believe later. His words weigh two kinds of faith: one that waits for evidence, and one that rests on a word.
The Lord does not scold Thomas, yet neither does He hold him up as the model. Commentators note that sight produced this confession, true as it was, and that this marks its limit:
Some have thought that the faith of Thomas here rises far above that of all the other disciples, and that nothing higher in testimony ever came from apostolic lips. This opinion, though common, cannot be founded on the general context. Christ, in reply to Thomas, pronounces those more blessed who did not see, and yet believed. It can hardly be called even Christian faith, as our Lord hints. Christian faith is believing in Him whom we have not seen — walking by faith, not by sight.
If sight is not the ground, what is? One writer separates faith built on evidence from faith built on Scripture. He warns how little the first can do:
To "see and believe" therefore falls wholly short of what the work of God gives; just as traditional faith or evidence answers to it now in Christendom. It is human. It leaves the conscience uncleansed and the heart without communion... Faith, to be of value and have power, rests not on sight or inference, but on Scripture... The faith that is founded on evidences may strengthen a person against Deism, Pantheism or Atheism. But it never gave remission of sins, never led one to cry, "Abba, Father," never filled the heart with His grace and glory.
Believing without proof is no poorer arrangement. It honours God:
We can render to God no tribute that is more welcome to Him than taking Him fully and simply at His word without asking for any confirmation by sight or by feeling.
He speaks the blessing over people not yet born. Writers tie them to believers of today, while the Lord is away:
The Lord does own the faith of Thomas. But He adds, "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed." This is the blessed portion of those who form Christ's assembly during the time of His absence, as the apostle Peter can say, "Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory" (1 Peter 1:8).
One writer reads the whole scene as a sketch of God's dealings, with Thomas standing for Israel in the last days:
Thomas's doubts disappear. It is the expression, in this remarkable summary of God's dealings, of the position of the Jewish remnant in the last days. They will believe when they see Him, and Jesus makes the difference between believers who have not seen Him — our position — and those who will believe when they see Him. The blessing rests upon us. Thomas's confession, true and right as it was, shows, it seems to me, the Jewish position... The testimony of the others will not have convinced them. They will see and look on Him whom they have pierced.
Both groups are real believers, and both are happy; the difference is where the Lord places His special approval:
The latter order or character is that of today, for we "walk by faith, not by sight." The former order is that of the future — the day of the coming of the Lord, when every eye will see Him... Both classes are happy and privileged, but the Lord, by His words to Thomas, has placed a special mark of approval and favour on those who believe on Him during the time of His absence.
This blessing is not vague believing. It has a content — who the wounded Man in that room really is:
Happy Thomas, yet happier are those who have not seen and yet have believed. Believed what? That the One who bears in His body the wounds He received on the cross of Golgotha is none other than the Eternal Word, by whom all things were made. He is our Lord Jesus Christ.
We may wish we had stood in that room. One writer answers that wish:
We can easily imagine what a wonderful thing it was to have looked on Him and to have heard Him. But no thinking believer need hesitate to say this: we have far more of Himself in and by the word than if we had seen and heard Him all through His life and ministry on earth without that word.
- Sight — Thomas believed because he saw. His confession was true, yet the Lord does not call him blessed for it.
- Word — the faith Christ calls blessed rests on Scripture, not on evidence. Taking God at His word is a tribute He welcomes.
- Blessing — He speaks that blessing over believers of today, who love and rejoice in a Lord they have never seen.
- Reach — Thomas pictures those who believe only when they look on the pierced One. The blessing rests on those who believe while He is unseen.
- Result — believing without seeing is no second best. Through the word we have more of Christ than eyes alone could give.