Interstate 70 in Colorado is the highway to a skiers’ paradise. The most memorable stretch of the drive — whether for the thrill or the terror — is Eisenhower Tunnel, about sixty miles west of Denver. Technically, it’s the Johnson Tunnel if you’re going east, returning from the slopes, and the Eisenhower Tunnel if you’re going west. At a lofty 11,000 feet above sea level, it is the highest vehicular tunnel in the world.

Once you emerge, the scene is breathtaking (no, that is not a high-altitude, low-oxygen joke). The Rockies tower around you, closer than before in the drive. And that’s when what should have been obvious before becomes plain: You’ve just driven through a mountain. If only Lewis and Clark had lived to see the day.

The first tunnel, Eisenhower, began construction in March 1968 and was completed five years later. The second tunnel began in 1975 and was completed in 1979. Both projects took longer than expected. Harsh winters and fragile rock layers combined to complicate the cause.

Nevertheless, it is finished. What was a dead end has been radically changed. What was an impasse is now a pass. Where there was an immovable mountain, there is now a highway. You can almost hear echoes of Isaiah: “A voice is crying out: ‘Clear the Lord’s way in the desert! Make a level highway in the wilderness for our God! Every valley will be raised up, and every mountain and hill will be flattened. Uneven ground will become level, and rough terrain a valley plain.’” (Isa. 40:3–4, CEB)

The death of Jesus appeared to be the ultimate dead end. It was the end of Israel’s hopes, the end of the disciples’ dreams, the end of a popular movement. Rome, and her local puppet government, thought they had successfully quelled an uprising. Jesus’ followers thought their hopes had died. “We had hoped he was the one who would redeem Israel,” said one of the early followers of Jesus (Luke 24:21).

The Nicene Creed, one of the early Christian statements of faith, casually states, “On the third day he rose again in accordance with the Scriptures,” as though it were simply an expected outcome, as if it were simply a matter of waiting a few days.

But that is not how the first followers of Jesus saw it.

The Resurrection of Jesus Christ is the most revolutionary event in human history and the most explosive force in the cosmos. Everything is different because God raised Jesus from the dead. The Resurrection is more explosive than dynamite blasting a highway through the Rockies. Where there was no way, God made a way.

Three Encounters With the Risen Christ

John’s Gospel gives us an up-close and personal view into just how explosive the Resurrection is for the dead ends in our lives. After the Resurrection, John offered three vignettes of people encountering the risen Christ.

John’s Gospel is marked by personal encounters with Jesus. Unlike any of the other Gospels, John gave us snapshots that are deeply personal. Like a movie director who shies away from sweeping action scenes with a huge cast and opts instead for dialogue, shot in a tight angle, John froze time in his stories to show us Jesus that we might “behold the glory of the only begotten of the Father” (John 1:14, paraphrased).

There is Nicodemus and Jesus in John 3, the Samaritan woman in John 4, the woman caught in the act of adultery in John 8, and Mary and Martha as they respond to Lazarus’s death in John 11; there is the interaction with Pilate in John 19, and now there are three slowed-down interactions with the post-Resurrection Jesus in John 20 and 21.

Mary the Displaced (John 20:11-18)

The first is Mary (John 20:11-18). This is Mary from Magdala. This Mary is the one Mark and Luke described as having had seven demons driven out from her (Mark 16:9; Luke 8:2). However we make sense of that description — an affliction from dark spiritual forces, trauma, physical suffering, mental illness or severe emotional distress, or some combination — we can say with confidence that Mary’s life changed dramatically for the better when she met Jesus. Jesus set her free. Jesus gave her dignity. Jesus gave her a community, a people to belong with, something she might never have experienced before.

So when we find Mary grieving at the tomb that Easter morning, she was likely feeling more than the loss of a friend. She was experiencing the complete collapse of a life that she now knew was too good to be true.

Everything had changed for Mary. There was a man who talked about God in a way that she had never heard before, a man who talked to her in a way she had never experienced before. There were friends, unlikely friends, who were bound up together in their shared experience of a newfound freedom and joy and hope and peace. And now it was all gone. Once again, everything had changed, but this time in a sharply downward direction.

Maybe you can relate to Mary. Maybe you’ve been let down by Christian leaders or betrayed by a Christian community. Maybe it’s deeper than disappointment. Maybe it’s disillusionment. John told us that Mary “stood outside near the tomb” (John 20:11). Crying, she bent down to look into the tomb. When the angels asked her why she was crying, she told them she couldn’t find Jesus; someone had taken Him away and she didn’t know where they had put Him.

Don’t you feel that way sometimes when you look at how Christianity has been hijacked by people with political or social agendas? Or when pastors or Christian leaders fall or fail or act in wicked ways? It’s like someone has taken Jesus away. Like we’ve lost not just our faith but Jesus Himself.

Then Jesus, the Word of God, speaks. He first addressed Mary the way she might have seen herself, the way we have been introduced to her in this scene. “Woman, why are you crying?” (John 20:13). She mistook Him for the gardener, which is itself a profoundly theological mistake — Jesus the true and better Adam in the garden on Easter. Jesus in a garden like Eden was a garden — but unlike Eden, because Eden was a garden marked by the introduction of death, and this is a garden marked by the introduction of resurrection life into the world. Jesus, like Adam (and Eve), was meant to garden the world, bringing forth fruit and life, and who succeeded where Adam failed. The gardener indeed.

But then Jesus called her by her name. He did this because He knew her name. She may not have known where Jesus was, but He knew where she was. She may have lost Him, but He had not lost her. He knew her.

Resurrection means displacement is not a dead end. The way has been opened to belong.

Thomas the Disillusioned (John 20:24-31)

Then there is Thomas (John 20:24-31). Thomas gets a bad rap, labeled as “doubting Thomas” for saying he would not believe unless he could put his hands in Jesus’ wounds. But actually, Thomas was only asking for what the other disciples already had a chance to do. He simply had the poor misfortune of picking the wrong day to miss their dinner club. Man, the best things happen when I don’t show up at small group!

Thomas was a doubter like we all are doubters. Thomas was a skeptic in the way that any of us would be a skeptic. Maybe Thomas was a little extra salty because he’d been let down before. Maybe his seemingly tough exterior covered a tender wound.

Maybe you can relate to Thomas. Have you had a fervent prayer unanswered or ignored? Is there someone you’ve been asking God to heal or to change or to reach, and it just doesn’t seem to matter? Maybe there have been too many promises that have yet to be fulfilled. Whatever the cause, like Thomas, your general approach to Jesus or to the community of faith, we can call it “church” if that helps, is caution or even skepticism.

But the risen Jesus appeared again, this time when Thomas was present. And He came announcing peace. True, deep peace. A peace that settles our souls, that quiets our fears, and soothes our anxieties. Jesus, the risen one, disarms our defenses with the warmth of His presence. He is here. And He is here with wounds.

To our skeptical questions, Jesus answers with His scars. To our wrestling hearts struggling with doubt, Jesus gives us His wounds. He knows. He’s been through it. He bled. He died. He lost. And now He lives.

Resurrection means disillusionment is not a dead end. The way has been opened to believe.

Peter the Failure (John 21:15-19)

And finally, there is Peter (John 21:15-19). Peter was supposed to be the leader, the man with the plan, the guy who had the answer to everything. But Peter failed in the moment he should’ve shined. Like the all-star with the ball in his hands and the game on the line who airballs the shot.

Peter gets painted as a coward, the guy who chickened out when the lights got too bright or the kitchen got too hot. But nothing in John’s Gospel gives us that impression. Just before the account of Peter’s denial is the story of Peter’s bravado. Not only had he promised to die with Jesus, but he had drawn his sword and cut off the ear of the high priest’s servant, proving his courage and willingness to fight.

I’m not sure fear was the dominant emotion for Peter when a servant girl asked if he knew Jesus. I think Peter was telling the truth when he said that he did not know Jesus. In that moment, he must have felt like he didn’t really know Jesus. After all, why had Jesus not fought back? Why, when Peter raised his sword, did Jesus tell him to put it away? Peter had gotten the mission all wrong. Worse yet, Peter had gotten the Messiah all wrong. The one who had a revelation of the Messiah now failed to see Him clearly.

Maybe you have too. Maybe you came to Jesus because you thought it would bring an unending string of victories, of blessing and prosperity, of success and ease. And it hasn’t. There have been defeats and losses. And you’ve struggled to follow Jesus in the midst of it. You’ve failed to be the person you once thought you could be.

But Jesus came to Peter to renew his love for Him. All was not lost. Jesus is still the one, the one Peter would give his life for, the one Peter really and truly loved.

Resurrection means failure is not a dead end. The way has been opened to become what Jesus called us to be.

What’s a Christian, Anyway?

In our world today, there are loads of roadblocks to faith, obstacles to believing in Jesus. The debris of confusion and corruption stack up like a mountain in our path. Many in the world and some in the church are left wondering, “What’s a Christian, anyway?”

These three stories of post-Resurrection encounters offer some clues. Because John gives us these three portraits after the Resurrection, you might say that these three are among the first Christians — the first to encounter the life-transforming power of the risen Jesus. We see in them not just pictures of displacement, disillusionment, and failure. We find in their stories a portrait of resurrection life bursting through dead ends, the highway to a new horizon. And now a new vista emerges. We can see what it means to be a Christian.

• In Mary, we see that to be a Christian is to belong — to belong to Jesus, and to the new community being formed in His name.
• In Thomas, we see that to be a Christian is to believe — to believe in the Savior who suffered with us and for us.
• In Peter, we see that to be a Christian is to become — to become like the Shepherd who calls us gently back into the fold.

Good news: Jesus Christ is risen from the dead! You can belong to Him; you can believe in Him; and you can become like Him. Where there once was a mountain, now is a highway. Where there was no way, God made a way. There are no more dead ends.

In a time where corruption and confusion have led many to deconstruct or leave the Church entirely, discover the ancient creed that casts a beautiful vision to help you reconstruct your faith and draw you home. In What’s a Christian Anyway?, pastor and theologian Glenn Packiam digs back into ancient Christianity to a time like ours to show you the Nicene Creed and discover how you can return to the living heart of what it means to be a Christian.