Not long ago I was re-reading one of my favorite resurrection stories; it’s the one about “doubting Thomas.” You remember: how Thomas wasn’t with the disciples on that first Easter evening when Jesus appeared to his disciples, and how he refused to believe their incredible story “unless I put my hand in his side” and, finally, how, a week later Thomas was with them all and Jesus came again, inviting Thomas to do just that. What always impresses me about this story is how Thomas and the others recognize Jesus by his wounds. And it’s by touching these wounds that Thomas’ own soul wounds—his disappointment, cynicism, bitterness—are healed. You see, here’s my guess: Thomas was filled, not so much with doubt as with anger—and maybe guilt: Jesus wasn’t who they thought he was; God had let them down; they hadn’t done enough to protect Jesus; Jesus hadn’t done enough to protect himself. I’m guessing it was the litany of angry, guilty regrets that had kept him away from the community of disciples that first Easter evening.

I wonder if you’ve ever been filled with angry doubts about God yourself? I suppose we all have at one time or another. I wonder if this sort of spiritual doubting ever comes near you at or about work: you watch someone less able get the promotion you’d hoped for; the job offer you’re sure would come doesn’t; the project for which you’ve given your life’s blood is dropped; the new boss who’s arrived in the wake of a merger unexpectedly lays you off. The story of Thomas suggests a way to pray in such circumstances: we tell God exactly how we feel, not covering up our disappointment, our doubt (self-doubt and yes, “God-doubt”) our anger or all our “what-ifs.” We tell God these things because that’s all we’ve got: that’s our only truth in such moments. A friend of mine once told me that God hears only the truth, so if the only truth we’ve got isn’t pretty, that’s still all we’ve got to offer. And that’s exactly where God meets us: right in the midst of our own woundedness. God understands our wounds because God-in-Christ knows what it is to be wounded; God-in-Christ bears the wounds that can set us free, God-in-Christ moves us—through his Wounds and our own—from death into life.

What might all this mean in relation to our work? Only you can say, of course. I wonder what about your work or your workplace is “dead.” I wonder what your work-related “wounds” are or where there is wounded-ness in your office. I wonder how you offer these to God and how you might be called to be an “Easter person,” an agent of God’s reconciliation, at work. You know, John’s gospel has the risen Christ telling his disciples a curious thing: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.... Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive people’s sins, they are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven.” Now, I’m not sure I want that kind of power.... until I remember that it works that way whether I acknowledge it or not. It’s about the wounds again: it’s only as we touch each other’s wounds that we can forgive; and when we refuse to touch the wounds of another, well, then, aren’t they retained? And it is only as we invite others to touch our own wounds that we are known and reconciled to them—that we begin to know what it is to trust another, to experience what it’s like to be empowered by the Spirit.

From woundedness, through forgiveness to empowered trust: at home, at work, wherever. Isn’t this what new life—abundant life—is all about…?

--Whitney Wherrett Roberson Whitney Roberson coordinates the Spirituality At Work project in the diocese. For more information about SAW and its work, find us on the web at www.spiritualityatwork.com or phone Whitney at 415.387.7224.