16.04.2026
Saint Francis
Pr. Christian Jennert, Bridge Pastor
Sermon Easter 2 A - April 12, 2026
Psalm 16 + Acts 2:14a, 22–32 + 1 Peter 1:3–9 + John 20:19–31
Try, for a moment, to forget everything you think you know about Thomas. Notice I didn’t say “Doubting Thomas.” Let’s set that aside.
Forget that Thomas is mainly remembered for doubt. Forget that he’s somehow the “weaker” disciple. Forget that Jesus scolds him. Because in John’s Gospel — the only one where Thomas really steps forward—none of that is actually true.
John never calls him “the doubter.” He calls him the Twin. And John never uses the word doubt. He uses unbelieving. Which matters, because in John’s Gospel, believing isn’t about having the right ideas. Believing is relationship. It’s abiding. “I am in you, and you are in me.”
And Thomas? He is asking for what the others already received. Jesus showed up for them — personally, unmistakably.
Thomas says, “I want that too.”
That’s not weakness. That’s honesty. He makes himself vulnerable by saying, “hey, include me…I belong there, too.”
And when Jesus does show up, Thomas responds with the boldest confession in the Gospel: “My Lord and my God.”
No one says more than that. No one sees more clearly.
Before we rush past this, can we remember what those days felt like? Confusion. Grief. Fear. Rumors. And somewhere —fragile, almost impossible hope. We read Easter as if it were obvious. But they didn’t know. They were living it in real time— without clarity or closure. And honestly… that doesn’t feel so far from where we often are. Even after a glorious Easter.
Because last Sunday my goodness — what a day we had here at St. Francis. The joy. The music. The energy in the room.
The laughter at the potluck. It felt full. Alive. Radiant. For a moment, it almost felt like everything made sense. Like resurrection wasn’t just something we proclaim — but something we could feel.
And yet… here we are one week later. Back in real life. Back with questions. Back with things unresolved. Easter joy is real. But so is everything we carry today. Which is why Thomas matters. Because Thomas refuses to pretend. He doesn’t settle for secondhand faith. He tells the truth: “I need to see.” “I need to know this is real.”
And here is the good news: Jesus meets him there. With wounds. With presence. With peace. “Peace be with you.” Again and again. Even behind locked doors. Even in fear. Even in uncertainty.
This week I found myself thinking about the upcoming Artemis II mission. Human beings preparing to go farther than we’ve gone in generations. There’s excitement—but also risk. Unknowns. Questions no simulation can fully answer. And still —they go. Not because they have certainty. But because they have trust.
Faith is something like that. Not certainty. Not having everything figured out. But stepping forward — with questions, with hope, with trust. So let me ask you — What are the questions you carry right now? What are the hopes that feel just a little too fragile to say out loud?
Thomas shows us that faith is not the absence of those things. Faith is bringing them into the presence of Christ. And trusting this: Christ is big enough to hold them. Big enough to meet us in them. Big enough to keep showing up —again and again.“Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” That’s not a rebuke. That’s a blessing. For the early church. For St. Francis. For you.
Blessed are you who still carry Easter joy — and real questions. Blessed are you who felt the beauty of last Sunday —
and still wonder what comes next. Blessed are you who don’t have it all figured out — and yet keep showing up.
Because Christ keeps showing up, too. Right here. In this community. In Word and Sacrament. In one another. Not instead of your questions — but right in the middle of them.
And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Amen.
