Ordinary, Normal, Us

Michael Andres

April 29, 2025

Reading

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.”
John 20:19

Reflection

I think the disciples were pretty regular folks. A local bureaucrat, more than a few fishermen, and a few guys we’re not entirely sure what they did. And then, they met this guy Jesus—their friend and mentor, teacher and sage. But he was also more than that.

He was a prophet and miracle-worker. He commanded storms, both those which swell the seas and those which rise within the human spirit. He said he was the Son of God, spoke into the heavens—to God—with confidence and intimacy, care and regard.

And then, in three quick years, this guy, Jesus, was arrested and tortured by the state. Confessions were demanded of him, and they took his clothes and gave him new ones, dressing him in degradation.

People who loved him—the regular folks and disciples the same—watched it all take place. Then he was killed. Left nameless—save for the mocking label hung above his head—to rot. If not for the compassion of a stranger and the will of God graciously working in the world, this is where this chapter of the disciples’ story would end.

It’s understandable the disciples hid.

It was fairly stupid (brave) of them to have met together again in the first place. If They (this time, not nameless) killed their leader, what might They do to them? But the Scriptures—and our story as a people of faith—tell us that they met all the same. Behind a closed door, locked for fear.

And then, as if Jesus’ life wasn’t extraordinary enough on its own, so too was his death—or rather, his temporary death.

When he appeared, standing among them, he spoke the words they needed most:
“Peace be with you.”

Not judgment.
Not rebuke.
Peace.

Where fear had locked the doors, Christ’s resurrection unlocked a new way of being.
Where instinct said hide, Jesus said go.
Where the old story ended in death, Jesus wrote a new beginning.

The first breath of this new life was spoken into the room that night. Soon, it would rush like wind and flame at Pentecost.

But even here, even now, it began with presence.
With peace.
With love that finds us behind locked doors—and calls us into the light.

Each of us, whether we have said them out loud or shared them with anyone other than ourselves, carries fear with us every day. It’s human. It’s normal.

And so, Jesus meets us where we are, in our fears and insecurities, and offers us an alternative—to trust, to be willing to experience things we may not understand, to be filled and to receive the power of the Spirit anew, to ask, “What’s next?” — not with timidity, but with boldness.

What new miracles might God perform in our presence?
What new signs of life might we begin to witness around us?
Where might we be accelerants of God’s great plan after Jesus?

PRAYER
Jesus, I give you my fears and insecurities.
I give you my story and my shame.
Take what is broken and make it whole.
Mend and care for my soul so that it might sing.
Lord, in your presence there is peace.
Dwell with me today, oh God.
Stay.
Amen.