Luke 24:39

This verse takes place on the morning of Jesus' resurrection. His disciples are gathered together, terrified and grieving, when Jesus suddenly appears among them. They think they are seeing a ghost. Jesus responds by showing them his hands and feet — which still bore the wounds from the nails of his crucifixion — and inviting them to physically touch him and see that he has actual flesh and bones. It's a startling moment: the risen Jesus isn't a vision or a spirit. He is physically, bodily present, and he knows his disciples need proof they can confirm with their own hands.

Jesus, you didn't float above the mess — you showed up with scars and said touch me. On the days when faith feels thin and I need something real to hold, remind me of those hands. Meet me in the physical, ordinary weight of my life, and let that be where I find you. Amen.

We've cleaned up the resurrection into something soft and luminous. But Jesus' first instinct is to say: feel my bones. The wounds are still there. He doesn't appear as a serene, transformed being who has left the physical world behind — he shows up with scars and asks to be touched. This is stubbornly, almost uncomfortably material. The disciples weren't invited to a spiritual experience; they were invited to confirm something real had happened in history, in a body, on a specific morning. If you've ever felt that faith asks you to believe harder and question less, hear Jesus saying 'touch me and see.' He doesn't scold the disciples for needing evidence — he offers his hands. That doesn't mean every doubt gets resolved neatly. But it says something about the kind of God we're dealing with: one who shows up in flesh, who carries his scars into eternity, who lets you feel the weight of him. Whatever you're carrying right now — 3 AM grief, long-held doubt, sheer numbness — he meets you with the same hands that were nailed and raised.