Doubter's anonymous (Fiction/Creative Writing)

Doubter's Anonymous (Fiction/Creative Writing)

This story is a midrash, shared at a storytelling contest spring 2018.

 It falls into the space between verses 25 and 26 in John Chapter 20.  

Day 1 - Hi, My name's Thomas, and I'm a doubter. I've been a doubter for one day now, and the last time I doubted was....well...I have to say, I'm still active in my doubting. I don't want to feel and think this way, I just can't help myself. I want to believe. At least I think I do. Sometimes I do. Here, let me just tell you my story and let you tell me how I can find peace. 

You see, Sunday night I was at home taking a nap while the other ten were hiding out at John's house. We were all afraid, and I turn into a homebody when I'm stressed. Anyways, everyone else was hiding out together behind locked doors and feeling generally hopeless. And get this – the next thing they knew, Jesus was there. Right there, in the flesh. Alive and well. Ridiculous, right? We all saw it. He was dead. Well, according to them, he's alive again and has put the very power of God within each one of them. I want to believe them. After all, they are my friends, and it would be so much simpler to stay part of the team. 

Day 3 I feel afraid. What is wrong with me? Everyone else has seen him, and the excitement in their voices betrays their certainty. My Jesus. I miss him so much more than them, because they are absolutely convinced that he is alive, and I am sure that he is not. We all saw him, he was bleeding out. They stabbed him through the ribs and I hear that sickening rip of his flesh in my dreams. Maybe the trauma was just too much for everyone else. To be honest, I envy them. I think I would prefer delusional and happy over knowing the truth and being alone, traumatized and shattered like this. What do I do now? They want to go spreading the news of Jesus' resurrection, but I can't. 

Maybe I could play along. It would be a compromise, sure, but a lot of Jesus' teachings were about love and service and self-sacrifice. He made everyone feel like a full citizen, and his talk of this new kingdom was quite inspiring, if not a little empty now. That's it. I'll pretend I saw him, then I can go on that speaking tour with the others. No one will ever have to know. It'll be our secret. It's a big lie, but I could do a lot of good with it, I think. 

Day 5 Ok, I almost convinced myself that I saw him. It was around the third hour yesterday, and I was alone in an alley, on my way to the market. I saw someone sitting on the ground about 20 cubits away. I stopped in my tracks. Could it be him? I really, really wanted to see him. I wanted to stop feeling isolated from my brothers and sisters who had also followed Jesus. I wanted to stop feeling like there was something wrong with me. I squinted my eyes, tilted my head, and held my breath. I started to feel dizzy, and I think I heard a voice say "believe in me." That could have been him, right? The next thing I knew, I was lying in the dirt and he was gone. For a while, I thought I had the Spirit of God in me, but today I feel like I just passed out from holding my breath. I don't know why the others think they are so special for believing. They got to see him (If he really did appear, that is.) They have to remember - they thought Mary was crazy when she told her story of seeing Christ. Until they saw him, too. Sometimes I blame myself, and sometimes I blame Jesus. Why wasn't I there? Was I lazy? I know I have a tendency to shut everyone out when I'm upset, and it had been a traumatic few weeks. However, if Jesus is so powerful that he can raise himself from the dead, walk through walls and instill the very Spirit of God with just a breath, why is he purposely excluding me? This is excruciating. I'm angry. I'm in grief. 

Day 6: Ok, here is where I stand. I had a long, honest talk with the others, and they apologized for ostracizing me. I confessed to trying to fabricate a vision just to make my life easier. My fate is sealed: I am a doubter. I'm also now willing to concede that, delusional or not, the other disciples are the most loyal friends I've ever had. I've agreed to go eat dinner with them 

tomorrow. I don't know what the coming days will bring for me, but I plan to take it one day at a time.