Greetje: New page: {{info}} ''Jerusalem lies in a black and bloody heap. The doubting apostle Thomas is preaching the gospel in India when news of the fall arrives. He rends his clothes and with his face to...

Greetje — Mon, 13 Oct 2008 16:13:56 GMT

New page: {{info}} ''Jerusalem lies in a black and bloody heap. The doubting apostle Thomas is preaching the gospel in India when news of the fall arrives. He rends his clothes and with his face to...

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''Jerusalem lies in a black and bloody heap. The doubting apostle Thomas is preaching the gospel in India when news of the fall arrives. He rends his clothes and with his face to the floor asks "Why?" The answer comes through the wisdom of a little boy: "I AM the Whence and How and Why of all events that ever were or will take place." "Thomas" is a faith-building poem for all us "aged skeptics." ''

Jerusalem had fallen to The Roman torch, and Titus slew Ten thousand fearless Jews, and burned The holy city black and turned The house of God to ashes. "No!" He snapped, "I don't believe it's so." The news had taken eighty days To reach, along the Persian ways, The coast of India. The old Apostle Thomas had been told The story by a caravan From Babylon. "One Arab man," He thought, "could get it wrong." But then The ships arrived and all the men From Egypt said the same: "Rome crushed Mount Zion like a fig, and hushed The Zealot bellowing for war."

The old apostle pushed the door And stepped inside the quiet room, Where Christ had come and lifted gloom And doubt for twenty years gone by. Ten hundred times the question Why Had risen — like a lust — inside His mind: Why his friend Judas lied And killed himself? Why James the son Of thunder died when he had done No wrong, and Simon who denied The Lord went free? Why Stephen cried Out truth like Gabriel and got His head crushed in, and not One person went to court? And why One night a brutal band should tie His hands and gag his mouth and sell Him as a slave to Gunabel, A Hindu Chief in Vindahi Four thousand miles from Galilee? And every time the question rose In Thomas' mind, the Lord who chose Him came, still living from the dead, Stretched out his hand and said, "Come, my beloved skeptic, put Your finger here, or feel my foot, Or touch my side, and do not doubt. If I was dead three days, burst out The tomb, slew death, defeated hell, Turned gore into a gushing well Of everlasting life, then I, Dear Thomas, know the answer Why. And even more: I AM the Whence And How and Why of all events That ever were, or will take place, The golden seal of sovereign Grace: My friends bear this insignia From Galilee to India."

The little servant boy stepped in Behind and stood, as he had been Instructed, quietly to see If there was any need that he Could meet for Thomas as he prayed. The old apostle knelt and laid His forehead on the black dirt floor, Took hold his only shirt and tore It with such force the little lad Began to shake that something bad Had happened to his lord. And then He heard the old man pray, "How can Your kingdom come, your will be done On earth, when godless Rome has won? What has become of Matthew, James, And Simon, Philip, John — such names, O God — and then five thousand more That gathered at the temple door, Not with a lamb to sacrifice But in the name of Jesus Christ? Are these all burned and slain, And I alone of all remain?"

The little servant boy was so Distressed to hear his master's woe That he forgot himself and said, "O Papa Thoma, they're not dead!" The old man lifted up his head, His wrinkled face was wet and red From weeping. "Come here, boy, how do You know they are not dead?" "It's you, And all the stories you have told Us. Like the one where you were bold, And said to Gunabel, ‘I will Not serve your feeble gods until The whole Arabian Sea is dry And every star falls from the sky.' And he put you in jail, and there The Lord came down and showed you where The nail went through his hand, and gave You hope and God-like power to save The jailer's son from his disease. And Gunabel, who never frees A prisoner, brought you out and said, ‘If you can heal my wife who's red With fever here tonight, I'll give You life and let you preach and live Your Jesus anywhere you please.' And when you prayed for her and laid Your hand on her red face, God made Her well and spread the Gospel all The way from here to Veraval. O, Papa Thoma, don't you see, If Jesus did all that for me In India, I'm sure he'd do The same for boys in Rome, aren't you?"

The aged skeptic marvelled at The boy. "Young man," he said, "combat With unbelief has been my food Since I was just your age. You're good. Nobody showed me how to fight When I was young like you. One night My brother couldn't get his breath. I never will forget his death Beside me in the bed. I screamed And screamed for daddy till it seemed The sky would crack. He never came. Since then, it seems, I have been lame: My faith walks with a limp; I trip More easily than most, and slip On less; and stand upright again With help — like you. You know, most men Don't have a gift like yours, young man. Can you hold out your hand?" "I can. But why?" The old man smiled, "The Lord Has met me in this room, restored My faith a thousand times with truth. This time he came near as a youth, And I just thought I'd like to see The nail prints in his hand."

Then he Stood up and put his arm around The boy and walked out on the mound Beside the deep Arabian Sea, "You're right, the Word of God is free! And far beyond this ocean deep The Lord of all the earth will keep His promise. You are right. This Word Will run triumphant till it's heard In every nation on the earth. And then The end will come, and God knows when."

This is the light of candle one. It spreads like fire from sun to sun. Lord, let our children fuel the flame And even doubters spread your fame.

Thomas - Revision history

Greetje: New page: {{info}} ''Jerusalem lies in a black and bloody heap. The doubting apostle Thomas is preaching the gospel in India when news of the fall arrives. He rends his clothes and with his face to...