The Way
Tuesday, April 7, 2026 | Sent
John 20:19-21
"On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, Jesus came and stood among them and said, 'Peace be with you!' After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord. Again Jesus said, 'Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.'"
The doors were locked.
These were the same men who had walked with Jesus for three years. They had heard his teaching, watched his miracles, eaten with him at the last supper. And on the evening of the first Easter Sunday, they were hiding behind a locked door because they were afraid.
Jesus did not wait for them to get their courage together before he showed up. He walked through the wall and stood among them. He said: peace be with you. He showed them his hands and side — the proof that what happened on Friday was real, and that the person standing in front of them had gone through it and come out the other side.
And then, before the moment could become simply a comfort, he said it again: peace be with you. And then the second sentence, which changes everything: as the Father has sent me, I am sending you.
The peace and the commission arrive together. You cannot have one without the other.
The resurrection is not a retreat. It is a sending.
The disciples received the most comforting news in the history of the world — he is alive, death could not hold him, the worst thing that could happen already happened and it did not win — and within the same breath they were commissioned to go. The peace Jesus offers is not the peace of having nothing left to face. It is the peace of knowing who walks with you into whatever you are facing.
The locked door is worth sitting with. Fear is a real thing. The disciples were not cowards — they were human beings who had just watched their teacher be executed by the state and were reasonably concerned they were next. Jesus did not rebuke them for locking the door. He walked through it.
But he did not leave them there. He sent them. And the life that follows Easter is not a life of hiding behind doors that feel safer than the world outside. It is a life of going — into the room that doesn't know you're coming, carrying the peace that walked through the wall to find you.
What door have you locked out of fear since Easter — and what would it look like to let the risen Christ walk through it before you do?
Lord, I know what the locked room feels like. I have been there — not always physically, but in the places I have decided are too risky, too costly, too exposed. You walked through every wall to get to your disciples. Walk through mine. Give me the peace that is not the absence of danger but the presence of you. And then send me. I am ready to go if you go with me. I pray this in Jesus' name. Amen.
Today I will: Identify the locked door in my life — the room I have been avoiding out of fear — and take one step toward opening it.
I will watch for: The moment I feel the instinct to lock the door again — and let that be the signal to remember that peace and commission arrive together.
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