He was born to be a skeptic
About everything he always questioned
Always seeing the negative side
His skepticism became an obsession
Everything had to be proven
It was the only way he believed
Evidence had to be irrefutable
Nothing else could he conceive
Proof, to him, had to be shown
And he still had his doubts
Even when it was ironclad
He’d examine it, within, without
He never took anything for granted
He always had to have proof
He always took it to extreme
His friends considered him aloof
One day he observed a miracle
How a man arose from the dead
He reasoned that it couldn’t believe
Then chose to doubt instead
He had to witness it for himself
If it was true or a cunning lie
No way would he believe it
In his mind it he quickly denied
Then Jesus stood before him
Offered nail-scarred hands and feet
Doubting Thomas doubted no more
His skepticism went down in defeat
He asked forgiveness for his doubt
Knelt and acknowledged the Lord
His skepticism he put behind him
His faith increased like never before