How the Story Gets Told Matters

I don’t know about you, but the pandemic and quarantine are giving me major mood swings. There have been some amazing moments, like when I finish a sermon in time to watch the sun set with my dog from my back porch. Moments like these make me feel content, even joyful, and most of all grateful for what I have. But then there are other moments, often in the same day, when something small, like running out of milk or stubbing my toe, sends me into a whirlwind of negative emotions. The grief about the state of the world that lives just beneath the surface erupts like a volcano and I feel scared and angry and grumpy all at the same time.

These moods, both the good and the bad can pop up at almost any time. But I have noticed a pattern, and it’s related to my consumption of social media. On days when I feel particularly low, chances are my browsing history includes World Health Organization data about COVID-19 deaths, reports about the 1/3 of the American population that couldn’t make rent on April 1, and perhaps an article about how some industries may never record from this crisis.

On the other hand, on a day when I’m feeling peaceful and untroubled, you’re more likely to find that I’ve watched a video about children raising money for COVID victims in their small town, or scrolled through pictures of pets who can’t contain their glee at having their owners home all the time, or read a feature about how the limited consumerism of the past six weeks has worked wonders in reducing the effects of climate change.

Now, the full truth of our world today involves a combination of all of these things I’ve seen on social media, and many, many more that I haven’t. But what I’ve learned, is that how the story gets told matters. How we, as a nation and as a global community, talk about what we’re going through, can make a difference in how we experience it. The things that get highlighted or ignored can have an effect on whether we thrive in this new world, or simply endure it.

Last week, Kate showed us that this year, we have more in common with the disciples after the resurrection than ever before. This is true in terms of our circumstances: huddled together in houses, unsure of our safety. But it’s also true in terms of our responsibility towards the Gospel. Just like us, the disciples knew that how the story of the resurrection gets told matters. And nowhere do we see intentionality in storytelling, in every word and theme, more than in the writings from the Johannine community, from whom we get today’s gospel passage.

The Gospel according to John is filled with some of the most beautiful and poetic literature in all of scripture. The craftsmanship in the language is itself a form of praise and a testimony to the power of resurrection. Can anything stir up our spiritual senses quite like “In the beginning was the Word?” As a storyteller, John certainly emphasizes the emotional and spiritual impact of the narrative.

But this Gospel does not hide its purpose in metaphors or other literary devices. Often, it speaks directly to the reader to make its meaning clear. Just look at the final sentences in our passage for today: “now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.”It’s as though the writer has said, “I’ve chosen to tell the story this way for a reason, so pay attention.”

And so, we come to the question I ask every year on the second Sunday of Easter. Why Thomas? Why does John’s gospel choose to highlight this incident when telling the story of the resurrection? At first glance, it seems to put a damper on the Good News: one week in and folks are already doubting! There’s also a rather loaded statement from Jesus, “blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” It feels as though he is criticizing Thomas, and by proxy, us, for having doubts.

But consider Thomas’ experience. His friends can’t stop talking about the amazing thing they have witnessed. It is clear that their lives have been changed. But Thomas missed it. He wasn’t there. He wants to take their word for it, but he’s having trouble fathoming what they’re reporting. He might even feel guilty for doubting them. What he wants is his own experience, like they have had. And lo and behold, Jesus delivers.

This is what the Gospel of John wants its readers to know about resurrection. Life in this new world that Christ has ushered in can be overwhelming and hard to believe. But if you find yourself overwhelmed and doubting, that’s okay. Jesus will meet you where you are. The disciples had a long road ahead of them telling this magnificent story to people who had never even heard of Jesus, much less met him. Luckily, the task of creating believers didn’t rest solely on their shoulders. Jesus continues to show up, meeting people wherever they are.

In the midst of a global pandemic, our experience is not unlike Thomas’. Life in this new world order can be overwhelming and hard to believe. What a blessing then, to hear John’s story of the resurrection, in which the message is clear: if we find ourselves overwhelmed and doubting, that’s okay. Jesus will meet us where we are. How the story gets told matters.

I wonder how we at Christ Church will choose to tell our pandemic story. What parts of our experience will we highlight? Will we help one another and our neighbors live in hope? And of course, there is the larger story to tell. Christ’s resurrection happened over 2,000 years ago, but the urgency with which we must tell the world about it has not diminished. In the age of COVID-19, the story of the resurrection is more important than ever, and how we tell that story can make the difference to help our world thrive. Amen.