Treadmill Epiphanies, Doubting Thomases, and White Evangelicalism too
Just another day in the life of this practical theologian
A couple of weeks ago, I had one of those “aha!” moments on the treadmill.1
I was listening to an excerpt from a parenting book,2 in which the authors made a statement about a particular kind of theory. They were talking about attachment theory specifically, a theory that focuses on relationships and bonds, and is defined as a “psychological explanation for the emotional bonds and relationships between people.”3
In the realm of parenting, a child often needs to employ all of their senses in order to reestablish relationship with a parent or parents. The child needs to touch, taste, see, hear, and feel. Whether they’ve been away for an hour, a day, a week, or more, children rebuild emotional and relational bridges with their parents specifically through their senses.
The “aha!” moment came not because I felt like I needed to do a better job of helping my children employ their senses when it comes to reconnecting with their mama after a long and woeful day away from her at public school,4 but it came because of a couple of scenes featuring a man named Thomas.
In the Bible, Thomas was a man who walked closely alongside Jesus when he was alive. But when Jesus died (and then rose again, three days later), Thomas had a hard time believing all that death-and-life nonsense true.
I get it. Regardless of what individual readers believe about the Christian story, Zombie Jesus walking through walls and showing up to eat some fish and then flying into the sky a couple of weeks later can be a rather hard pill to swallow.5
Is it any wonder that Thomas, who had walked closely alongside Jesus, who had dropped everything to follow him, who had given him his life, would be found doubtful in his grief?
Is it any wonder that Thomas would need a little extra boost in order to reattach himself to Jesus?
The story goes like this: The whole raised-from-the-dead thing happens. The second-century rumor mill goes wild, first with the women who found the tomb empty,6 then with the men who’d hung out with him the most.
But somehow, when Jesus appeared to the men, Thomas wasn’t there. Had he not been invited to the party? Was he just over it? Or was he, by chance, per chance, deep in the wallows of grief and sadness, overwhelmed by the death of one of his best friends?
Whatever it was, by the time news reaches Thomas that Jesus had shown up to party with the dudes once again, Thomas thinks it’s a bunch of baloney.7
Here, Thomas reacts in a way many of us would react. He says words many of us would say: “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”8 He needs proof; he needs the body; he needs a fair amount of reattachment.
And here, Thomas gets labeled “The Doubter.”
Thomas becomes the example of what not to be, of what not to do in life of faith.
For some of us who grew up in the Church, and particularly, I might add, within white evangelical branches of the church, there were certain figures we were supposed to emulate. Paul, totally. Peter, sometimes. Jesus, always the right answer.9
But there were also figures we weren’t supposed to be like at all, and Thomas was one of them. Don’t be like Thomas, just believe! With the adjective “doubting” often tacked onto the front, becoming Thomas — which is to say, becoming one who lacked the faith to believe, sight unseen — was one of the worst things you could do.
Because within this scenario, you either believed or you didn’t believe. In a world of black and white, dualistic thinking, there was also only one right answer: Jesus. Here, believing is equated with good; not believing is thought to be bad. So in an either/or environment like this, there’s no room for Thomas — or for future Thomases among us, for that matter — not to believe, let alone to express doubt. In this world, doubt lives outside the bounds of goodness, which is to say God’s goodness, which is to say God.
Later on in the story, Jesus shows up again. This time, Thomas is there. This time, Jesus gives Thomas what he needs: he gives him the fleshy proof of touch.
That day on the treadmill, I literally pushed the emergency “STOP” button so I could start scribbling notes into my phone.10
Could it be that what Thomas needed in order to reattach himself to Jesus was to really, actually put his fingers in the mark of his nails and turn his hands around in his palms and then touch the side of his abdomen? Could it be that Thomas needed Jesus to collect him, to meet him where he was at — in a place of hurt and confusion, grief and loss, disbelief and disillusionment, not so that he might believe but so that his love might be restored?
I never loved the treadmill more than I did in that moment.
But I also never loved the story of Thomas more than I did in that moment, perhaps because it felt so closely aligned with my own.
There’s more I could say, but I’ll stop there. If you want to hear more about this treadmill epiphany, check out the sermon from the self-described no-bullshit church community, Haven Berkeley. If you want to talk more about the effects found in white evangelical belief systems, I’m here for it (and you’ll find a whole lot of it in my next book, Church Camp).
And, of course, if you want to take a walk on a treadmill with me, I’m game for that too.
I know, I know: starting a post by telling people you just worked out at the gym is like saying, “Hey! Look at me! I’m super hot and buff and I work out at the gym.” But that, my friends, is not the point nor is it necessarily the truth. So, just take this sentence for what it is: a declaration that I did, indeed, move my body and happened to have an epiphany on some indoor exercise equipment while doing so.
Hold On to Your Kids by Gordon Neufeld, Ph.D., and Gabor Mate, M.D. Mate is one of my favorites, particularly when it comes to psychology books.
https://www.verywellmind.com/what-is-attachment-theory-2795337#:~:text=Attachment%20theory%20focuses%20on%20relationships,bonds%20and%20relationships%20between%20people.
Cough, cough.
And still, I believe.
The women were first, the women were first!
See also, a load of shit.
John 20:25
Women? Don’t even get me started.
I am not above realizing that a big, fat tumble could very well be mine in such a moment of realization.
I love this perspective! Also, dying at your footnotes. 🤣
Love it. (And I’ve been wanting reread Hold Onto Your Kids. This adds to that desire!)