The events around the Cross must have been the most intense moments anyone could experience. In a few days, the pressure built, and the disciples watched helplessly as their Teacher was arrested by the power of the Sword and then put through a false trial by the political powers of this world (all while the religious powers cheered in agreement). They watched helplessly as Pilot pondered what to do with the man they had called teacher, and then came to know as a friend. Then, if the despair and hopelessness they were feeling could get any worse, it must have overcome them on Friday as they watched Jesus hang from the Cross and breathe his last. It must have felt like all hope had abandoned them as they wallowed in despair on that quiet Saturday and wondered not just what their future might look like, but how they had wasted their last few years following a crucified teacher. The disciples had been defeated, and for them the triumph of a week ago had faded into fear – fear of the Sword that had arrested Jesus and the powers that had crucified him. As Saturday fades and the dawn breaks, the disciples remain in the same spot. The same spot emotionally, spiritually and literally.

Notice the small details that John gives us to help us grasp what is going on. The Disciples have heard Mary proclaim: “I have seen the Lord!” and what the Lord said to her, and as the day has passed and evening comes, they are still in the room “with the door locked for fear of the Jews.” Oh, how quickly things can change!

Last week, we stood with Mary in the Garden as the quiet victory of the Empty tomb began to whisper into the world that desperately needed to hear it. The hint of Change that the vindications of Christ’s resurrection would bring as his Kingdom moved out into the world in its first proclaimer, Mary. This movement marks the Kingdom of God’s upside-down nature as Mary tells us what the Lord has done. Yet, as the light of Mary’s day fades into the Shadow of evening, we move from the empty tomb to a locked room. A locked room symbolising the fear that even the news of Mary, the first herald, could not begin to tame. In this scene, in fear, the Risen Lord Jesus appears, where Jesus meets his disciples, not with a spectacle but with Scars, It is in this locked room that the disciples eyes are opened. It is there that the Risen Lord – the King bears our scars – speaks peace, breathes the Spirit, and commissions moves his weary and wounded followers into knowing hope and joining Mary in the commission to proclaim. Like the Son was sent, Mary was sent; Like Mary was sent, the disciples are; Like the disciples have been sent, so are we! The Risen Christ sends his church into the world just as we were sent – not in power, but in the way of the Cross and peace with wounds that testify to the Grace of God and the Holy Spirit who leads us and works in us.

1 Locked Doors & Fearful Hearts (19-20)

1.1 Fear After Resurrection

The Dawn has broken, and with the light of the new day, is the beginning of hope. Mary has realised it, and the disciple who Jesus loved, along with the Rock, have seen hints of it. We have been told that John has even believed “although he has not yet understood.” You wonder what the conversation must have been like when the light of the sun dimmed and they pondered all that Mary had told them, even as John agreed that something had happened and pointed to it amiss. They had already heard John and Peter’s overview of all that had occurred, how the stone was gone, the strips of linen on the floor and the folded cloth. They had pondered and wrestled with what might have been unfolding; yet, fear had not given way to hope. They had seen Mary transformed by the resurrection, but it was still too early for resurrection life to them. The Locked doors clearly give us an image of the fear that captured their heart. A fear of the authorities, perhaps even their religious leaders and what they might want to do to the remnants of the movement; even a fear of the unknown. Dare we even say it, as John and Peter suggested and Mary proclaimed perhaps they were even afraid of Jesus himself.

1.2 Christ Comes Through Barriers

Perhaps they were afraid of Jesus, yet John wanted to clarify that nothing could stand in the way of the resurrected Christ and what he was going to do. The Door may have been locked and the disciples fear may have bene crippling, yet, no barrier can stop Jesus working among his people. What are the first words he speaks as he moves through locked doors to be among his disciples? Words of rebuke? Words of Challenge? No, words of Comfort – because he is the shepherd who knows his sheep and cares for them. To their fear and fatigue, Jesus speaks peace: “Peace be with you Not rebuke, nor disappointment – but peace. By his dying, he has restored our peace, and he will bring peace in his presence. Peace is not simply the absence of conflict or violence; no peace has any meaning.

“Shalom is what love looks like in the flesh. The embodiment of love in the context of a broken creation, shalom is a hint at what was, what should be, and what will one day be again. Where sin disintegrates and isolates, shalom brings together and restores. Where fear and shame throw up walls and put on masks, shalom breaks down barriers and frees us from the pretence of our false selves.” – from Vulnerable Faith: Missional Living in the Radical Way of St. Patrick.

The peace Christ speaks of now is the fulfilment of God’s work in the world. It is a peace won on the Cross that only God can bring because it is a Shalom that is not from this world. How is this peace brought? By the Cross of Calvary, how do the disciples know that Jesus stands among them? By his wounds. His wounds know the Same Jesus, because we are healed by his wounds. Who knows what the disciples heard in that moment, or if they even heard it at all as their minds took their time to process what their eyes were seeing before him, the one who was dead and hanging on a tree, not standing before his chosen followers, wounds and all.

1.3 The Scars That Save

If death has been defeated and the curse of sin broken; if Jesus stands among his disciples as King of Kings and Lord of lords as the one who is Lord over life and death, the bringer of peace and the healer, then why does he still bear scars? Because that which the world meant for evil, God used for good: That which was meant to mark his defeat is instead the wounds by which he will save. The prophet Isaiah would say hundreds of years before this moment:

But he was pierced for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his wounds we are healed. – Isaiah 53:5 (ESV)

In that moment, the disciples would fully realise the healing of which Isaiah spoke – the scars are not defeat, but emblems of Grace. We might think that we need to hide our wounds, that they are something to be ashamed of, worse still, our world leads us to believe that beauty is perfection. Yet, the Kingdom of God looks nothing like the world, and its King bears the Scars of this world in beauty, because it is by his wounds we will know him, and when we see his wounds, we will be reminded of how we have been saved – the Cross of Christ. We live in a world that hides scars and promotes perfection, where we think that because we have suffered through something, we feel the marks of something, whether emotionally or spiritually, that we are somehow lacking or should be doing better. In the locked room, we are reminded that peace comes not from anything in the world, but by the wounded one who rules over it. He Scars proclaim: the curse of sin is defeated, the reign of death over, and peace with God has been won.

His wounds have healed us, because his wounds are the only thing that can heal fully! His wounds are the only thing that can heal the Scars that our city bears, our lives bear, and perhaps even our churches bear. The question for us is? Are we those who have been healed by his wounds? Those who know the peace of Christ?

2 As the Father Sent Me (vv. 21–23)

2.1 A Resurrection Commission

Little time is wasted in letting the disciples figure out what is happening. Jesus has appeared among them and confirmed all that Mary had declared and Peter and John had suspected; then, as he stood among them and stretched out his arms, on which their eyes saw his wounds, their hearts were moved from fear to joy. By his wounds, he confirmed who he was, and the disciples were “overcome with Joy.” Good Friday’s pain was gone, Silent Saturday’s emptiness filled, the fear of that new dawn dissipated, and Joy overcame them all. The betrayal of Judas has been forgotten, and the reality of resurrection sets in. Yet, joy would not be where they would remain. Christ had come to bring peace between God and humanity, but to the chosen, he came with a purpose! Mary received, and now, as Christ stands among his disciples and declares peace to them again, he gives them the same resurrection commission that he gave Mary.

Jesus here comforts the disciples with his presence and assurance of peace and speaks to them of the Kingdom of the Commission. They have been called for a purpose, and that purpose will be to declare what they have just received. Mary saw Jesus, and Jesus called her to show her to the disciples; and now that they have seen him and his wounds with their own eyes and known his peace, they have been called to the same end. The room might be locked, but the disciples would soon have their eyes and hearts opened to the call of Christ in their lives. The disciples were never meant to remain fearful and hidden in a locked room. If it were true 2000 years ago, it is true today. We – the church – often find ourselves cowering because of fear; fear of the unknown, fear of the culture we are called to minister in, fear of the city that may be our home, fear of what family and friends might think, fear of failure, fear of getting uncomfortable, fear of being successful in the things of God. We might not be in a literal locked room, but we may as well be, as we have shackled the gospel with our expectations and conditions! The Spirit flings the door open and compels us outwards to join in the movement of Mary and the disciples out of comfort into the world for the sake of the one who sent us. We – the church – must grasp that we are not just witnesses to the wonder of the Risen Christ, by his Spirit and work we are participants in his ongoing mission!

“As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.”

2.2 Sent like the Son

Again, in verse 21, Jesus speaks of peace; this double delivery shows us that this is not something physical, but something far deeper and far more tangible in its realisation. Yet, the peace is joined with commission. That commission is given flesh by example: “As the Father has sent me…. so I am sending you.” So the sending of the 12 and the Church is mirrored in the sending of the Son. How did the Father send the Son? The disciples do not get to sit in awe of the resurrection victory. They were to move, to be sent! A sending that was not random or theirs to discern but defined by the original sender – Jesus. Our mission is modelled after the very mission of the Son. So, how was the Son sent?

Incarnationally, Jesus came into a broken world as one of us. He took on our flesh and understood our existence; he was tempted and tried in every way. He suffered and knew the pain of human existence. He saw the effects of sin but never succumbed to it. Cross to it. The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us…” (John 1:14) Meaning he entered our brokenness, our grief, and our pain. He entered our Story as we walked dusty roads, sat with sinners, and wept at Gravesides. As Jesus lived out Grace incarnationally, so must we. We must walk the dusty roads, eat with the broken of the world, build deep relationships with the undesirables of our age, and learn to speak and live the hope of Christ in our time.

Sacrificially, that is to say, the Father sent the Son in Costly love. The Cross was always going to be the way God would glorify Himself and deal with the curse of sin, because sin had a cost. The Cross was not an after thought but the very display of the depravity of sin and the Sacrificial depth of God’s love: “I have come down from heaven not to do my will but to do the will of him who sent me.” (John 6:38)” The call of the Son carries a cost, as the Kind came to serve and not be served; not to forego suffering but emrbace it. Sacrifice and comfort marked his mission as he walked the narrow road to Calvary for our sake. As Christ modelled the Sacrificial love of God, so must we as we seek to serve and not be served, as we seek out the lost, speak for the voiceless even when it hurts and join with Christ in taking up our Cross daily where the Spirit of God has called us to serve.

Absolutely — here’s the revised Dependent section in one paragraph, with the Scripture woven in naturally, matching the flow and style of the other two:

Dependently, that is to say, the Father sent the Son not in isolation but in intimacy — Jesus did nothing by himself. Still, only what he saw his Father doing (John 5:19). He lived in full communion with the Father, withdrawing to pray, listening before he acted, trusting in the Father’s will even in Gethsemane. His mission was not shaped by crowds or pressure, but by obedience. So too must we walk, not in self-sufficiency but in surrender. If the Son would not move apart from the Father, then neither can we. We are not the initiators of the mission. We are followers of him who sent us, in the model of how he sent us — led by the Spirit, not driven by the pressures of expectations of this world. To be sent like the Son is to live prayerfully, move carefully, and speak only after listening. A church that is dependent is powerful — because it moves not by might, nor by strength, but by the Spirit.

So when we hear Jesus say: “As the Father has sent me, so I am sending you”, we remember that our way must be what he modelled. To be sent by him is to go in the way he lived out the Father’s call and modelled the Kingdom of God in the world and to his disciples by how he loved, served, proclaimed and made known the wonder of God. It is to grasp that he is not sending us into safety; he is sending us into the brokenness of this world to be his hands and feet – incarnationally; to serve with sacrificial love, utterly dependent on the Holy Spirit as we live for him. Why?

Because the Church is not called to remain secure behind locked doors, nor are we called to admire the resurrection and do nothing with it. No, we are called to live because of it! We are called to movement – incarnationally, sacrificially, and dependently as we take up our Cross daily and follow him. We move as a wounded Church into a wounded world, so

2.3 The Breath of the Spirit

A wounded Church to the wounded world, but not a weak church! No, we are emboldened and empowered by God himself as the Holy Spirit dwells in us, because we are temples of God. Then the Holy Spirit dwells in us as the assurance of God’s peace and the outworking of it. John tells us that Jesus breathed on his disciples as he commissioned them and declared, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” In the simplest of acts, Jesus did what only God could do: breathed resurrected life into that which was once dead; he birthed a new creation from the fearful few. The breath of God is the power of God, it is the same breath we saw in the first chapters of Scriptures when God formed Adam from the dust of the Ground; Adam only knew life when God breathed it into him (Genesis 2:7). It was the same breath that Ezekiel saw move in the valley of dry bones from the four corners as the life of God was breathed into the slain and the Lord raised an army (Ezekiel 37). Through Christ, the breath of God that brought life into Adam and Eve, gave life in the dead valley moves again as John captures the empowering of the Disciples – and the birth of the Church – for the work of God. In that locked Room, the breath of God moved again.

In that locked room, the breath of God moved again to bring life. The breath of God is the Spirit of God at work bringing courage where there was once fear, mission where there was mourning, and commission will replace the confusion. Because of the hope of the resurrection, the disciples’ hiding moments before will now be moving. Jesus appears and brings the disciples peace as his presence vindicates the path to the Cross; now the Spirit brings power! Because of the Spirit, the door would remain locked, and the disciples would be fearful. Today, if we exist without the Spirit of God, then we may stay the same – Good Intentions with no power; open bibles and closed hearts; Good intentions without the suffering of service. However, as we embrace life in the Spirit, we realise that our essence is to be sent as witnesses carrying the wounds of life to a World that desperately needs it. Thus, we pray:

“Come, Holy Spirit. Breathe upon your Church once again.”

As we embrace our call to be witnesses, we delight in knowing that the Spirit of God is not a luxury in the life of the Church; he is the life of the Church—our lifeline. Without his breath, we will suffocate behind our locked doors. Yet, with his breath, we step into the world with our scars, carrying life and bringing peace and hope!

Conclusion: A Wounded Church to a Wounded World

The “Church” that left the locked room was not perfect, polished, or powerful in the world’s eyes. Even at this point, these followers of Jesus are unknown by the city they are in as the powers still think Jesus has been defeated. Yet, they are commissioned people and sent as they are: a wounded Church, breathing the Spirit’s life, carrying the scars of redemption into a broken world. Today, 2000 years later, we are called to be the same. We do not go with arrogance or self-sufficiency, nor do we suddenly go perfectly in life and living. No, we go with scars that tell a greater story, an honesty story – the story of the Cross and the peace of Christ. The world does not need a Church that pretends to have it all together; it requires a Church that bears witness to the one who was wounded for our transgressions, and by whose scars we have been healed. Who died and destroyed sin and was raised for our hope. As we go into our communities, our families, and our workplaces, we go sent like the Son — incarnationally, sacrificially, dependently — breathing resurrection life into places that are still marked by fear and sorrow, trusting that the Spirit goes before us, and that God is working through us.