Reflections from The Hill – The Never-Ending Story – John 20.19-31

 

 

“Hey Ian, what story did ya tell ‘em last Sunday? The one about the Easter Bunny? Or was it the one about The Easter Egg?” so asked Wal, an ex- chalky-friend of mine.

 

The thing about the stories I read on Sundays, as I constantly reminded Wal, is that every last one of them invites us to be a participant in the action, not to simply be a passive listener whose only activity occurs near the edge of their head.

 

As I say that, I need to be careful that you are clear about this: I’m not saying that the Bible is fantasy … but … I do say that there is a similarity behind many of the stories we read in the Scriptures and the world of fantasy writing.

 

The common ground is that both invite us to participate in the story. Whether it’s The Narnia Series, The Never Ending Story or the scene with the so-called Doubting Thomas that we read today, we’re invited to be part of it.

 

It’s like as if a little window to heaven opens up and we’re being called to step up and into this different dimension. Most certainly, John is not telling us about something that simply happened in the past, like a history lesson.

 

John wants us to get the message that participating in these events will actually change the shape of the immediate present and the on-going future of everyone who reads them.

 

That’s why John tacks on those verses at the end, where he tells us that the reason why he chose these particular stories was so that anyone who heard them would believe that Jesus was the Messiah after all.

 

Where fantasy stories and the Gospel part company is right here: John wants to persuade, to prompt, to provoke us, the reader, to a living faith. The Never-Ending Story and its ilk don’t even come close to doing that, no matter how good they are.

 

The face-to-face meeting with Thomas (included in the Gospel for your edification) is another one of those little windows that invite us to climb through into heaven.

 

I always reckoned that The Bloke was a bit hard on poor old Tom. After all, he was just asking for what everyone else had experienced. All he wanted was a slice of the action, as they say. Anyway, I reckon it’s a bit rough to call him “Doubting”.

 

Think about it for a bit: who else is going to believe without seeing? Every other human person in the whole world from then on, pretty much. That includes me and you and Great-Aunt Maud, and funny little Eric and …

 

Each of us has struggled to continue believing without our peepers or our pinkies. Does The Bloke call us “Doubter”? Nah. He calls us “Blessed” and Tom is at the head of the line. How cool is that?

 

This never-ending story didn’t just start on Easter Day. It actually started when creation happened and it’s still going today and it’ll carry on until the end of time.

 

The awesome thing is that you and I are characters in this story. We’ve been invited to learn from those millions and trillions who’ve come before us, to learn from them about faith and courage and fear and sadness and about making mistakes and getting it wrong and knowing how to put it right.

 

Unlike Tom and the others, our doors aren’t closed any more. We’re not closeted disciples with closeted minds. Despite what we might see, we don’t live in ghettoes or silos. We’ve been called out of them.

 

The Tomb-Breaker is telling us that being cocooned by fear is yesterday’s bread. It’s stale old and useless. Why? Because the breath of the resurrection is still fresh on our cheeks, that’s why.