He Comes Closer
Trinity Sunday
You stand at the graveside and hear the words of resurrection. Some part of you believes them. Some part of you cannot look away from the coffin.
Eleven disciples climbed a mountain in Galilee because Jesus told them to. Not because the doubt had cleared or the grief had lifted. They went because there was a mountain and an instruction. Obedience came first.
Matthew calls it worship. He also calls it doubt. Same hillside, same moment, same men.
“Doubted” means not yet arrived. Not gone. Matthew names it and moves on. No explanation. No resolution.
Jesus does not wait for them to sort it out. He comes closer.
Not toward their certainty. Toward their trembling.
“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go.”
The mission does not rest on their confidence. It rests on his authority. They are not sent because they are ready. They are sent because he is risen.
All authority. All nations. All he commanded. All the days. Grace enough for a world they will fail to master.
He sends them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. A name spoken over them before they could understand it. A grace declared before they could earn it. The ground they were already standing on before they knew to look down.
Matthew opened his Gospel with a promise dropped into the silence before the story began: Emmanuel, God with us. Before strength. Before clarity. Before certainty.
Now the risen Christ speaks it himself to eleven men who are still not entirely sure:
“I am with you always, to the end of the age.”
Not because the doubt has vanished. Not because death looks any different.
I am with you always.
Maybe you are still on that mountain. Maybe you are still at that graveside. Some part of you believing. Some part of you still staring.
I am with you always.
These midweek devotionals aren’t sermons. They’re meant to complement the Sunday homily. I’ll share the sermon below after it’s preached:
Ben, I just love this. So good - thank you, brother!