Lectio Divina – Feast of Saint Thomas, Apostle
Theme: “not”
Written in the first person, in the voice of G.K. Chesterton
1. Lectio
Gospel – John 20:24–29
> “Thomas… was not with them when Jesus came… ‘Unless I see… I will not believe.’… ‘Do not be unbelieving, but believe.’… ‘Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.'”
There are a great many knots tied into today’s Gospel by one little word: not.
Thomas was not there. He would not believe. Jesus tells him to not remain unbelieving. Finally, Jesus blesses those who have not seen.
The Gospel is woven together with negations until Christ Himself unties every knot. Each not becomes an invitation rather than a condemnation. Christ does not shame Thomas for his absence; He transforms it into a deeper confession of faith. The Apostle who says “I will not believe” becomes the Apostle who proclaims, “My Lord and my God!”
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2. Meditatio
Those who regularly follow these Lectio Divinas may remember that about a month ago I spent several days digging holes throughout The Glenn to repair water leaks. Once the repairs were completed, I deliberately left the holes open for weeks to make certain the work would hold. Seeing no leaks, I confidently filled them in.
The job was finished.
Not!
That little word immediately unraveled my certainty.
The conversational trick of declaring something and then puncturing it with “Not!” became famous in the 1990s through Wayne’s World, but long before it became a comedy routine it described the human condition. We are forever declaring ourselves finished, secure, independent, in control—and then reality quietly whispers, “Not.”
A new leak appeared.
The ground settled.
The work was incomplete.
The pipe had more to teach me.
That small experience has become an icon of my spiritual life.
The greatest knots in my soul are not caused by broken water lines but by the illusion that I am entirely self-made. Saint John Paul II warned against precisely this temptation when he wrote that “man is not only a freedom which he creates for himself. Man does not create himself. He is spirit and will, but also nature.”
There lies the deepest not of all.
I am not my own creator.
As our nation celebrates its 250th anniversary and we speak so proudly of independence, I find myself asking whether independence has quietly become isolation. Democracy is a tremendous gift precisely because it recognizes the dignity and participation of every citizen. Yet, as Centesimus Annus reminds me, democracy detached from truth quickly becomes another form of domination. Likewise, markets become destructive when profit replaces solidarity and the vulnerable become expendable.
Freedom itself eventually hears God’s gentle correction:
“You are free…
Not to do whatever you please,
but to become who I created you to be.”
That is also the lesson of Thomas.
His doubts were real.
His questions were sincere.
But they were not ultimate.
Jesus did not remove Thomas’ mind; He redirected it. He did not scold his questions; He invited him to place his questioning hand into the wounded side of Mercy itself.
Perhaps every leak at The Glenn, every reopened hole, every failed certainty is Christ saying to me,
“Darrell, you thought the work was complete.
Not.
Come back.
I still have something to show you.”
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3. Oratio (Prayer)
My risen Lord,
Too often I confuse confidence with faith, certainty with trust, and independence with freedom.
When I proudly announce, “I’ve got everything under control,” lovingly answer me, “Not yet.”
Lead me back to the places where I have buried unfinished work.
Undo every knot tied by pride, fear, self-sufficiency, and disbelief.
Like Saint Thomas, let my questions become doorways to encounter You.
May every doubt end not in despair, but in adoration.
My Lord and my God.
Amen.
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4. Contemplatio (Chestertonian Synthesis)
Chesterton loved paradox because Christianity itself is God’s greatest paradox. The skeptic imagines doubt to be the opposite of faith, but Thomas teaches that honest doubt can become the doorway through which faith enters. What damns a man is not asking questions but refusing the Answer when He stands before him.
That tiny word “not” has extraordinary power. It can close the heart—”I will not believe.” Yet it can also open heaven—”Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.”
The Christian life is filled with holy negations.
I am not self-created.
I am not self-sufficient.
I am not abandoned.
I am not beyond forgiveness.
And because of Christ, the final “not” belongs not to death but to life:
The tomb is not occupied.
The grave is not victorious.
Hope is not disappointed.
So whenever another leak appears at The Glenn, whenever another carefully filled hole must be reopened, perhaps I should smile. God has once again used that tiny word “not” to remind me that His work in me is wonderfully unfinished, and that every reopened wound is another opportunity to place my hand into the wounded side of the risen Christ and finally say, with Thomas,
“My Lord and my God.”
Feast of Saint Thomas, Apostle
