Wounds: Hidden and Healed

I continue to think about doubting Thomas, the figure from last Sunday's lectionary.  I think about his insistence in touching the wounds of Christ.

How many of us demand the same?  We want proof, something made of marble and concrete, before we believe.

I think of all the forces I'll never understand:  electricity, internal combustion, how the orchid can survive with so little water.

I walk the labyrinth and feel my equilibrium restored.  I'm not sure I understand that process either.

I think of all the hidden wounds.

I pray for healing, another process I cannot always comprehend.

Luckily, God does not need my comprehension.