I discovered this Post-it note in the back of one of dad’s bibles shortly after he died. When I found it, I recognized it at once as a sort of treasure—something special because it is written in his hand, and even contains one of his telltale, and humorous, spelling errors.

At the end of verse 26, Jesus asks Martha, “Do you believe this?” And she answers, as did my dad, with a sincere “Yes Lord.” She was exercising great faith in doing this, since Jesus had not yet been crucified or risen. But her faith would quickly be affirmed as Jesus came upon the tomb of Lazarus, wept at the state of creation’s decay, and then showed his awesome power over it. “Lazarus, come out!”

Not long after, Jesus would move another tomb stone—his own. This is the day we celebrate on Easter. The day when we can rightly remember our fallen state—the moral equivalent of messy handwriting and spelling mistakes—and gaze upon the man who righted our wrongs. Jesus asks the proper question, “Do you believe this?” Because our natural inclination tends toward doubt even if it is mixed with awe. Looking at dad’s note, I marvel at the reality that what I must still struggle to believe, he now knows.

I’ve imagined him running up to the Lord and touching the wounds as Thomas did. “Wow, wow!” he would say, his eyes darting back and forth from Jesus’ pierced hands to his smiling face. Pretty much speechless except for “wow!” And I imagine this happens every Easter… maybe more frequently than that.

But for us, Easter is still a matter of faith—believing without seeing, or touching. Yet one day we will. My dad is a vivid reminder to me of that.