Doubting Thomas and the Coffee Code

My first Sunday as Vestry on Duty

Today was my first time serving as “vestry on duty.”

I was excited. I got there early, had actual responsibilities, and was trusted with church coffee, which is not nothing. Church coffee may look casual from the outside, but I had printed instructions, and I followed them like the law. Thanks, Chris.

After opening the front doors, I walked down the hallway and saw the framed black and white photo of Fr. Nick that says, “don’t mess up.”

A tough message to receive before you have even finished your first task.

Still, I think I did fine. The coffee got made. The doors got opened. Nobody seemed distressed. I am counting that as success.

And really, I had fun.

I am finding that I like being useful at church. I like having a reason to be there besides slipping quietly into a pew. I like doing the small things that help the place come alive. There is something good about arriving early enough to watch the morning take shape.

Then Rev. Jackie Pippin preached on Doubting Thomas.

Thomas is my favorite saint, so I was listening from the jump.

I have always liked him because he feels like an actual person and not a stained-glass cutout of a person. Everybody else is ready to move forward, and Thomas basically says, I hear you, but I need more than that. Fair enough.

This works today because I am currently reading Christianity: The First Three Thousand Years by Diarmaid MacCulloch, and it is not exactly making Christianity feel simpler. I am not very far into it, but I have already gotten far enough to realize just how messy the roots of this faith really are. History, argument, politics, translation, people shaping and reshaping things over time. The Bible’s timeline does not always line up neatly with actual historical timelines, and once you notice that it’s pretty hard to un-notice it.

So yes, sometimes I read that book and think this is fascinating.

And sometimes I think, this is absolutely insane.

That’s just the truth of reading more closely than I ever have before. The more I learn, the harder it gets to treat Christianity like a clean little package that fell from the sky in perfect order. It’s a lot messier than that. More human than that. Which can be unsettling, especially if what you wanted was something simple.

So, when Rev. Jackie preached on Thomas, I heard it as somebody sitting in the narthex with all that rattling around in my head while holding this book that literally says some of the Biblical truths we think we know and love were just made up to fit the culture of the time.

What I liked was that she did not make him sound weak. She did not make him sound like a bad disciple. She made him sound honest. He was not willing to fake certainty just because it would have made him easier to deal with.

I loved that.

Because I do not want a faith that depends on me staying shallow. I do not want one that only works if I never ask hard questions or never read difficult books or never notice where things get complicated. I cannot do that, and at this point I don’t even want to.

Thomas is comforting because he does not perform belief. He says what he actually thinks. And Jesus meets him there.

That matters to me more than almost anything else in the story.

Not because I think doubt is cool. It’s not. It is often annoying and lonely and inconvenient. But I do think there is a difference between disbelief and honesty. Thomas is honest. That is why I love him.

Rev. Jackie also talked about Jesus appearing still wounded. Still carrying the scars.

That was something I had never deeply thought about.

Because that means resurrection is not the same thing as pretending pain never happened. It means the wounds do not disappear just because God is in the story. It means faith does not have to be polished to be real.

I think that is part of what I’m after.

Not perfect certainty. Not a faith with no loose ends. Just something real enough to hold up under a hard look. Something honest enough to survive history, questions, and human fingerprints all over it.

And maybe that is why church still makes sense to me, even when what I am reading makes the whole thing feel bigger and stranger and harder to pin down.

Rev. Jackie also said Thomas encounters Jesus when he comes back to the community. Back in the room. That felt true right away.

Everything gets worse in your own head if you stay there too long. Questions grow teeth. Doubt starts sounding smarter than it is. Cynicism can pass itself off as wisdom if nobody is around to interrupt it.

Church interrupts it.

Not because everybody there is certain. I seriously doubt that. But because there is something about being with other people who keep showing up anyway. They sing. They kneel. They pray. They make the coffee. They open the doors. They sit there with whatever they brought in and make room for God to meet them in it.

That feels more believable to me than a room full of people pretending they have never questioned a thing.

So maybe that is what this Sunday gave me.

This is who made your coffee today.

I got to be useful. I got to make the coffee and unlock the doors and feel, in a small way, like part of the machinery of church life. Then I sat down and heard a sermon about the one saint who never seems bothered by the fact that faith can get messy. Meanwhile I am in the middle of a book that keeps reminding me just how messy Christianity has always been.

And somehow those things did not clash.

They fit.

The coffee code. Thomas. History. Questions. Community. The fact that some of us are trying very hard to believe without pretending we have no reason to hesitate.

I left thinking maybe faith is not about finally reaching a place where nothing bothers you. Maybe it is about staying in the room long enough to find out what is still true behind the stained glass and crumpled coffee cups.

For now, that is enough for me.

Today I made the coffee, opened the doors, and kept my questions company.

That felt like church.