On and off over the years I’ve had the pleasure of teaching students in Bible and doctrine classes, and those classes tend to take on different personalities. I remember one class that was dominated by lively, energetic believers who were always pushing me ahead, always asking the questions that were just a step or two beyond my preparation. They were smart enough to know when I tried passing off an answer as more simple than it was.
Another class was dominated by dull, listless people who would rarely rise to the occasion of engaged discussion. It probably was my fault for never discovering the connecting points that would coax them out of their shells. But the kind of class that was the most challenging and fulfilling to me was the class well sprinkled with doubting Thomases. They were in the class not because they had full faith, but because they were seeking it. They weren’t afraid to stare blankly if my response to a question just wasn’t adding up.
Why is it that we consider the rising sun on the horizon, spilling its light across the land, an event of note, but not the sun sitting brilliantly above at high noon? It’s because the horizon is a line where something new crosses over. And so doubt is not really the antithesis of faith; it is its precursor.
Even at that moment when Jesus’ own disciples had the extraordinary experience of speaking with him after his resurrection on top of a rocky Galilean mountain, while some worshiped him, “some doubted” (literally, “hesitated”). If the risen Christ passed you on the sidewalk, or even entered the room where you are at this very moment, that would not mean that all your doubts in life would disappear in an instant. You would still have to believe.
