Sermon Manuscript – Second Sunday of Easter (April 12)
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Opening the Door of Fear, Walking the Path of Mission
John 20:19–31
Introduction
After Easter Sunday passes, personally, the tension unwinds and I return to everyday life to take care of various things that have piled up. Since our second child is heading to college this time, we need to help decide on a school, so we've arranged a trip to New York next week.
To wrap up the first half of the year well, the church has also built a congregation management program using AI. I feel quite proud of the nicely designed interface, yet at the same time it seems like I'm spending my days in busyness, entering and saving members' names and information.
For Easter Sunday last week, just as we did last year, we successfully held an Easter festival. Many people came and enjoyed themselves, and it made me think that next time we should create even more opportunities for deeper connection and communication with those who attend. I am grateful to everyone who worked hard in preparation, and I especially thank Children's Ministry Director Heewon Jin and the parents for their dedication.
After a big event or occasion, even before the afterglow fades, the reality we face often fills our hearts with busyness and other tasks that need to be done. It's like coming home after finishing a job and seeing dishes piled up like a mountain in the sink—sometimes that discomfort grips our lives more tightly than the memory of what we accomplished.
After Easter, I too find myself thinking every time, "If I believe in the resurrection, then how am I supposed to live the day after?" In this sense, today's scripture is the story of "the day after the resurrection," inviting us into this very reflection and journey.
The Uninvited Guest After the Miracle
In John 20:19, it records that the disciples had locked the doors because they were afraid of the Jewish leaders. Isn't this strange? The disciples were people who had already heard the news of the resurrection. Mary Magdalene had come running to testify, "I have seen the Lord." They had confirmed the empty tomb. So why were they still behind locked doors, trembling in fear?
Personally, this scene feels so human that it actually brings me comfort. As I mentioned earlier, our lives don't seem all that different. Right after a retreat where we received great grace, an even greater emptiness can rush in, and after that passionate night of tearful commitment, by the following week we sometimes find ourselves thinking, "Why did I do that back then?"
We thought that experiencing a miracle would make all our anxiety disappear, but reality is often the exact opposite. This pattern—where even greater fear arrives after great grace—seems to have been true for the Israelites in the Bible as well. They cheered before the miracle of the Red Sea parting, but once they entered the wilderness, there was no water, no food, and complaints and grumbling followed. They even longed for the pots of meat they used to eat in Egypt. When you look at it, miracles were never the end—they were always the beginning of a new journey.
The disciples were the same. They had heard the joyful news of the resurrection, but reality was still uncertain. They had to hide from Roman eyes, and the grief of losing a companion had not yet been resolved.
When you think about it this way, faith is not a straight line made up of only burning passion—it seems more like a winding road where we sometimes walk side by side with fear. So being discouraged by trials that come after grace is never something to be ashamed of.
What the Bible Records Is Not a 'Hero's Tale'
There is a trap that is easy to fall into when reading the Bible. It is viewing the people in the Bible only as "heroes of faith." Abraham is the father of faith, Moses is the great leader, David is the courageous king. That is true, but only half true. Abraham lied twice about his wife, saying, "She is my sister." Moses refused God's calling five times, saying, "I am not eloquent." As for David, we all know well what problems he had without me listing them one by one.
The New Testament and the Gospels are even more striking. Peter denied Jesus three times, and all the disciples fled at Gethsemane. And in today's passage, even after hearing the news of the resurrection, they are still trembling in fear.
The Bible is not recorded as a success story of perfect people. We must remember that it is the story of people who stumbled, were afraid, and ran away—yet nevertheless walked with God.
And yet, I think many people are harshly hard on themselves. They think you have to be perfect to receive a church position, that everything must be fully prepared before you can take on a service role, that you must be flawless in every aspect of relationships and faith life to be a true Christian. They even label themselves as "a person without faith" and judge themselves as lacking because they had a wandering thought during prayer, because they lost their temper yesterday, because they are still anxious.
A certain pastor once shared this story. Long ago, a young man came to him for counseling. "Pastor, I think there is something wrong with my faith. Every time I pray, doubts about my faith keep rising up." The pastor asked, "Did you stop praying because of those doubts?" The young man shook his head. "No, I still pray." The pastor smiled and said, "Then your faith is alive."
True faith is not a steel-like state where fear has completely disappeared. Holding onto the Lord's hand even in the midst of fear—that is faith.
Instead of Rebuke, the First Words He Spoke
In the latter part of verse 19 and the passage that follows, the most beautiful scene appears. Jesus came. He came through the locked doors. He did not even knock. He simply stood in their midst. And He spoke His first words: "Peace be with you."
I believe this single sentence is the compression of the entire gospel. Because in this situation, Jesus could have said something entirely different. "Why did you run away?" "Why are you still hiding?" "Where were you when I was dying?" Any rebuke would have been justified. And yet His first word was peace. It was comfort.
It is just like the father who found his lost son—the prodigal son. The moment the son returned, the father put shoes on his feet, dressed him in a robe, and threw a feast. It was not "Do you know what you have done?" but "You have come back!" that came first.
But there is a part here that we can easily miss. Jesus' peace was not meant for them to stay in that room. Look at verse 21. With the same mouth, He speaks again.
"As the Father has sent Me, I also send you."
Peace and then commissioning. These two words are one set. The Lord's comfort is not a comfort meant to confine us inside a room. It is a comfort that ties our shoelaces so we can go back out into the world. "I know your fear. You have rested enough—now rise. I will go with you."
From 'Survivors' to 'Those Who Are Sent'
This transformation is the core of resurrection faith. At first, the disciples were simply survivors. People who lost their teacher and hid because they feared they too would be caught. But after encountering the risen Jesus, they received an entirely new identity. From "survivors" to "those who are sent." This difference is enormous. A survivor is defensive: "Let's just get through this safely somehow." One who is sent is purposeful: "There is a place I must go."
Pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote in a letter from a Nazi German prison: even in a life-threatening situation, he wrote that "a Christian is not someone who calls upon God from a safe place, but someone who stands beside their neighbor in a dangerous place." It was a confession that the purpose is not to survive, but to be sent.
The same is true for the church. If the church remains only in comfort, it loses the dynamism of the gospel. Of course, the church must be a sanctuary where the wounded can rest. But it must not stop there. The church is a "place of sending" where those who have been comforted scatter back out into the world.
The reason we gather on Sunday is so that from Monday through Saturday we may be sent into the very center of the world. The door of the sanctuary is a door for entering, but it is also a door for going out.
Thomas Who Needed to Touch, and the Lord Who Embraced Such a Thomas
We cannot leave out the story of Thomas. Thomas was not there at that moment. The other disciples told him, "We have seen the Lord," but Thomas firmly refused. "Unless I see the nail marks in His hands and put my finger where the nails were, I will not believe."
We commonly call Thomas "the doubting disciple." But I would like to call him "the honest disciple." Thomas did not pretend to know when he did not know. He did not pretend to have certainty when he had none. The most dangerous thing regarding faith is not doubt—it is hypocrisy. Thomas was at least not hypocritical.
And a week later, Jesus comes again. Once again He comes through the locked doors. And He speaks directly to Thomas: "Put your finger here; see My hands. Reach out your hand and put it into My side. Stop doubting and believe."
I find this scene deeply moving. Jesus remembered Thomas's conditions. When Thomas said, "I must see and touch the nail marks to believe," Jesus was not even in the room. Yet a week later He came and repeated those very words back to him. He is the One who does not pass over even one person's doubt.
Faith is not the work of verifying information. It is a relationship where one person meets another person. The reason Thomas ultimately confessed, "My Lord and my God!" was not because he touched the nail marks. He was undone before the love of the One who came searching for him to the very end.
The reason Jesus said that those who believe without seeing are blessed is not because evidence is unnecessary. It is because those who are already in relationship with Him have trust that comes before evidence. Just as a couple married for many years can know each other without saying a word.
Not Knowledge, but Life
John 20:31—John himself reveals why he wrote this Gospel: "But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in His name."
It was not to increase knowledge. It was not so that anyone could boast about knowing more, nor to reveal the mysterious secrets of the Bible. It was so that we might have life.
What the Bible asks is not "How much do you know about Jesus?" but "Are you living in Jesus?" The gospel is not something to memorize—it is something to live out. When the interpretation of my life changes, when my relationships change, when my attitude changes—that is what it means to have life.
Reality Stayed the Same, but the Eyes Changed
When I share this story, most of you will know who I'm talking about, but as I prepared this sermon, it seemed like exactly the story I needed, so I want to share it. Not long ago, this person went through a string of difficult events. While wrapping things up at their workplace, someone smashed the car window right before their eyes and stole the bag inside, and they watched helplessly. Since the bag was taken, they had to recheck all their cards and bank information—it was incredibly inconvenient. Then, not long after, they fell in a parking lot. Though they were not seriously injured, the impact of the fall left a tooth badly loosened.
Inwardly, I was worried. When bad things happen one after another, no matter how strong your faith is, nobody is immune. They could resent God, blame other people, and even just lamenting their situation could take all day and still not be enough.
A few days ago, I happened to see this person, and when I asked how they were doing, they said, "I am thankful to God." They said it could have been much worse, and they were so grateful that it was only this much. When I heard that, it struck my heart. And here I am, a pastor, and this was the level of my own thinking...
Think about it. You work hard at church. You truly live life giving your very best. But when things just don't seem to work out, does resentment come? Or doesn't it? There was a time when I, too, fell into that kind of lament—when the world felt unsatisfying and God felt resentful. But the church is not a place that simply listens to your complaints and personal hardships.
We are already beings who live victorious lives through faith. God has saved us, given us the hope of the resurrection, and we live our lives according to the grace God has given us. What an enormous blessing that is! And yet, when suffering comes and difficulties arise, we forget all of it completely.
I am not telling you to just force yourself to live positively even when things are hard. Having the eyes to see the hand of God still at work even in the midst of suffering—I believe that is the gift that resurrection faith gives us.
Resurrection faith does not magically erase the problems before us. Instead, it changes the eyes with which we look at those problems. Reality stays the same, but the interpretation changes. When the interpretation changes, our response changes, and when our response changes, our life changes. This is what we call maturing. We can call it being sanctified.
Conclusion: Let Us Open the Door and Go Out Again
Beloved members of the congregation, we are still afraid. We worry about tomorrow, we are anxious about our health, and our hearts waver every time the economy shakes. We worry about gas prices going up because of the wars happening right now, but in truth, it is the unsettling news pouring in from all directions because of war that makes us worry about tomorrow and beyond as we live our lives. In times like these, like Thomas, the doubt may cross our minds: "Is God truly alive?"
It is okay. That is natural. If God is alive, there should be unending peace instead of war—so why do things like this happen? You are allowed to doubt.
The risen Jesus is the One who breaks through our locked doors. He does not rebuke our weakness. He remembers our doubts and comes to find us. And He always speaks the same words.
"For the sake of peace, I send you." "Life after the resurrection is not a life where fear disappears, but a life of walking according to the Lord's sending even in the midst of fear."
Fear is still there, but it is a life of knowing and striving to be certain that One greater than that fear is beside me. And so it is a life where we can open the locked door and take one step out toward the world.
This coming week, the very place where you stand is the place to which you have been sent. At your workplace, in your home, beside your neighbor. It does not have to be a grand ministry. Even in the midst of fear, offering one warm word to one person—that is already living as a witness of the resurrection. Let us open the door and go out. The Lord goes with us.
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