The Fifth Sunday of Easter – May 2, 2026

“Do not let your hearts be troubled.” That is how Jesus begins today’s Gospel. And whenever someone tells you not to be troubled, it usually means there is plenty to be troubled about.

Jesus is preparing his friends for his departure. He is speaking of going ahead, preparing a place, drawing them into the very life of God. It is beautiful language, but it is also mysterious, unsettling, and unclear.

And then Thomas speaks up.

“Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?”

Thomas gets labeled as the doubter, but in this moment he is simply the honest one. He says what everyone else is thinking. He refuses to pretend he understands when he doesn’t. He refuses to nod politely while his heart is full of questions.

And Jesus responds not with frustration, but with revelation.

Thomas’s question is not a failure. It is a gift. “Lord, we do not know the way.”

That sentence is the heartbeat of discipleship. It is the truth of every Christian life. We do not know the way—not fully, not clearly, not all at once. We walk by faith, not certainty. We walk with questions, not maps.

And Jesus answers Thomas with one of the most profound statements in Scripture: “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.”

Not a way. Not a truth. Not a life. But the living, breathing path into God’s heart.

Thomas’s honesty opens the door for Jesus to reveal who he is.

Our other readings today show that this uncertainty—this not knowing the way—is woven into the earliest Christian experience.

In Acts, Stephen sees the heavens opened even as stones are being hurled at him. He does not know how the story will end. He only knows the One who holds him.

In Psalm 31, the psalmist cries, “Into your hands I commend my spirit.” Words Jesus himself will later speak. Words that trust God even when the path ahead is hidden.

And in 1 Peter, the church is described as newborns longing for spiritual milk, as living stones being built into something they cannot yet see. They are becoming a people, a priesthood, a holy nation—but the shape of that identity is still unfolding.

The early church did not know the way. But they knew the One who was the way.

Thomas wants a map. Jesus gives him a relationship. “I am the way.” Not a set of instructions. Not a list of doctrines. Not a spiritual GPS. Jesus himself is the path.

Which means the Christian life is not about mastering information. It is about abiding in Christ. It is about walking with him, trusting him, learning his voice, letting his life shape ours.

When we say we don’t know the way, Jesus does not hand us a blueprint. He takes our hand.

Thomas’s question is our question.

Lord, we do not know the way through grief. We do not know the way through conflict. We do not know the way through illness, or change, or fear. We do not know the way through a world that feels uncertain and divided.

And Jesus says: You don’t need to know the way. You need to know me.

Because the way is not a route. The way is a relationship.

1 Peter gives us a powerful image: we are “living stones,” being built into a spiritual house. Stones do not arrange themselves. They do not choose their placement. They do not see the full design.

They simply trust the builder. And they hold one another up.

This is the gift of the church. We do not walk the way alone. When one of us cannot see the path, another can hold the light. When one of us falters, another can steady the load. When one of us cries out like Thomas, “Lord, we do not know the way,” the whole community can answer, “Come walk with us. We will find Christ together.”

Jesus says, “If you know me, you will know my Father also.” To know Jesus is to know the heart of God. And the heart of God is love—self-giving, boundary-breaking, life-giving love.

Stephen embodies that love even in death. The psalmist trusts that love in the midst of fear. The early church grows into that love as living stones.

And we are invited to walk that same way. Not because we have all the answers. Not because we know the route. But because Jesus is the way—and he walks with us.

Thomas’s question is not a sign of weak faith. It is a sign of courageous faith. “Lord, we do not know the way.” May we have the courage to speak those words. May we have the humility to walk without a map. May we have the trust to follow Jesus, who is the way, the truth, and the life.

And may we, as living stones, build one another up as we journey together into the heart of God. Amen.