Fear…fear is one of the most deeply held emotions that is part of the human condition. We all have fears of one sort or another. What are yours? When we are little we fear monsters under the bed and being forced to eat our vegetables. As we grow older, fears change. But they are still present. We fear the unknown: transition, change, unpredictable outcomes. We fear not belonging: not being accepted, understood, valued. We fear not being ‘enough’: not measuring up, letting others down, making mistakes. We fear losing control: losing abilities we once had. We fear death: suffering, the unknown and what comes after. We all have fears don’t we? What are yours? Perhaps you fear how long this sermon will go this morning as we still have the AGM ahead?
And I think this embedded nature of fear is why the opening scene in the Gospel of John is apropos. Chronologically, the resurrection has just occurred. The tomb is empty. Mary has seen the risen Lord and she has boldly proclaimed it! And yet, the disciples are not out in the streets celebrating…they are afraid. They have not joined Mary in boldly proclaiming good news...they are cowering with fear behind locked doors. As the text puts it: “The doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear.” Last Sunday, we pondered how death is the place of Easter’s beginning. This morning, we consider how fear is where the story continues. And if we are honest, that is where many of us begin as well…not in bold faith or unshakable confidence, but in fear. We know how easy it is to close the door, to protect ourselves from what comes next. In all fairness, the disciples had every reason to be afraid. Their teacher had been crucified. The world they trusted had proven dangerous. Everything changed, and they did not yet know what resurrection meant for them.
And into that space, into that locked room, into the place of fear…Jesus arrives. His arrival occurs into fear. He arrives not after they figure it out, not after they find courage, not after they open the doors. He arrives right into the middle of their fear, and his first words are so beautiful: “Peace be with you.” These are not words of correction or disappointment. He does not ask, “Why are you afraid?” or say, “You should be stronger by now.” Jesus offers peace. Jesus offers the gift of peace into their fear. It is the kind of peace that does not depend on circumstances being perfect. It is the kind of peace that enters locked rooms and anxious hearts. It is the kind of peace that gently reminds us that we do not need to be afraid. Easter begins in death, and continues in fear and Jesus brings peace.
The unfolding of the story, I think, is most significant. He shows them his hands and his side. These details matter because the risen Christ still bears the marks of the cross. Resurrection does not erase what has happened we learn; resurrection transforms it. The wounds are still there, but they are no longer signs of defeat. They are signs of love that have passed through suffering and come out the other side. And the disciples rejoice, not because everything suddenly makes sense, but because they encounter him. Jesus then breathes on them and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” It is a moment that echoes the very beginning of creation, when God breathes life into humanity. Now, into this fear-locked room, new creation begins again. In this text, we see that resurrection is not only something that happened to Jesus; resurrection is something happens to his people.
The next step in the transformation is the formation of community! The disciples do not remain as isolated individuals. They become community; a holy community shaped by the resurrection. Yet one of them is missing…Thomas is not there. And when Thomas hears the others speak, he cannot yet accept it: “Unless I see… unless I touch… I cannot believe.” History has labelled him as the “Doubting Thomas,” but perhaps what we see here is something more honest and more human. Thomas names the struggles that many of us carry. He does not pretend to be certain when he does not feel it. And what we learn is that Jesus DOES NOT reject him for his doubts. In fact, he turns directly to Thomas and meeting him exactly where he is offering him peace. Thomas is WELCOMED into a deeper faith because of his doubts! The gift of Thomas is a reminder that authentic Christian community is not built on having all the right answers. Deep authentic faith is built on making space: for questions, for doubts, for the many ways people come to faith.
This brings us to today, to AGM Sunday, a day when we reflect not only on what has been (the year gone by), but on what is emerging. Like those first disciples, the church today finds itself in a time of deep transition…perhaps even fear. There are changes we cannot ignore. Our numbers are smaller, our structures are shifting, and our future MAY feel uncertain. And it is human nature at a time of uncertainty to respond with fear. Fear that causes us to close the doors, to hold tightly to what was, and to wonder if the best days are behind us. But what if this moment for the church is NOT a ‘locked door moment’? What if this moment in time is a threshold to what is about to come? What if, as the United Church of Canada’s ‘Toward 2035 vision’ calls us to see the future of the church is not about being bigger but about being deeper? Smaller, perhaps, but more connected. Less focused on maintaining structures, and more focused on nurturing relationships. Less about doing everything, and more about doing what truly matters. So…perhaps the questions we should be asking today are: what truly matters to YOU in Northwood’s ministry? What relationships shall Northwood focus on nurturing? What will the Northwood that we have to work with today look like as we move ‘Towards 2035’? Our breakout conversation in a moment will be about what authentic Christian community looks like into the next 10 years?
Fear is human, natural; however, here we DO NOT need to be afraid. Not because everything is certain or because we have all the answers. But because Christ is present: standing among us, speaking peace, breathing life, and calling us into something deeper than our fears. So, as we look to the future of Northwood, perhaps the invitation is not to ask how we get back to what once was, but to ask where Christ is already present among us, where peace is being spoken into our fears, and where community is already forming. Because the story is not over. In fact, like those first disciples, we may be just at the beginning.
From fear to community, from isolation to shared life, from locked doors to open hearts. “Peace be with you,” Jesus says, and with that peace comes possibility.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.