“How the Risen Jesus Disrupts Our Doubts”

John 20:18-22

April 9, 2023 (Easter 2023)

Faith Presbyterian Church – Morning Service

Pastor Nicoletti

The Reading of the Word

We have heard about Christ’s work in Janet’s life.

But Janet is not the only person to make such claims – and in fact, her testimony, though a real help and encouragement to our faith, is not the foundation of our faith. Rather, our foundation, as she has mentioned, is found in the Scriptures … which we will turn to now.

This morning we hear from the Gospel of John, chapter 20. And as we do, it’s helpful to have some context for the passage we’ll hear from.

At this point in the Bible’s story, Jesus Christ has carried out his earthly ministry – he has preached about the Kingdom of God, he has healed and helped those who were suffering and in need, he has spoken of God’s reign and how one can be made right with God. Then, he entered Jerusalem, where he was betrayed, arrested, subject to a false trial, and executed on a cross. He died at the hand of Roman soldiers who were professional executioners. And then he was buried in a tomb.

But then, on the third day, something remarkable happened. Some of the women who followed Jesus went to the tomb and found it empty. They told the disciples, and two of them ran to the tomb, and saw that it was empty as well. The disciples left, and Mary Magdalene remained. As she wept outside the tomb, she heard a man ask her “Why are you weeping?” She explained to him that someone had stolen the body of her beloved teacher and friend. She assumed that the man  speaking with her was the gardener. But then he spoke her name. And she looked at him, and she recognized that the one speaking to her was Jesus – alive, risen from the dead. She went and clung to him, touching him, seeing for herself that he was not a spirit or a ghost, but his body too was raised. Jesus was alive! And they spoke together. And he sent her to the disciples to tell them what she had seen. And she did. And that’s where our text picks up.

With that context in mind, we turn to John 20:18-22. Please do listen carefully, for this is God’s Word for us this morning:

18 Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”—and that he had said these things to her.

19 On the evening of that day, the first day of the week, the doors being locked where the disciples were for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” 20 When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples were glad when they saw the Lord. 21 Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, even so I am sending you.” 22 And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit.”

This is the word of the Lord. (Thanks be to God.)

“All people are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of the Lord endures forever.” [1 Peter 1:24-25]

Let’s pray …

Prayer of Illumination

Lord, as we come to your word this morning.

Give us eyes to see it and ears to hear it,

minds to understand it and hearts to accept it.

Do this, we ask, for your glory and for our good.

We pray this in Jesus’s name. Amen.

Introduction: Doubt

There’s a lot going on in this text, but this morning, I want to zero in on the disciples’ initial response to the news they receive.

In verse eighteen Mary Magdalene tells the disciples that Jesus is risen from the dead – she has seen and spoken with him. And this, we would expect, is world-shattering news. Jesus had claimed to be the Messiah of God – he had claimed to be the unique Son of God. And the disciples, for several years, had followed him, believing those claims. But then Jesus was arrested. And then he was crucified. And then he died. And that threw everything into question.

But now they were hearing testimony from a woman they had known for years – a fellow follower of Jesus who had been with them – and she told them that Jesus was risen … she had seen him and touched him and spoken with him. They had her testimony. And you would think that that would change everything. If Jesus had overcome death, if Jesus was the Messiah – the Son of God – and he was risen from the dead, and he was there in Jerusalem, then it would seem like the very next thing to do would be to go out and find him! Or at least to gather, and open the door, and expect him to find them!

But that’s not what they do. Instead, we read in verse nineteen, they gather together at night, and they lock the door. Basically … they hide.

Why would they do that?

A simple answer, perhaps, could be “Doubt.” Maybe they simply didn’t believe what Mary had told them. Ancient people, just like modern people, knew that dead people ordinarily stay dead.

But I would say that though the disciples knew that dead people ordinarily stay dead … I suspect that there was also more depth to their doubt here. Behind that doubt, and underneath that doubt, there were other factors. And this morning I want to consider what those factors may have been for the disciples, along with what they often are for us.

It’s true that we’re not told the detailed thoughts of the disciples as they locked that door. But I think we are told enough that we can consider some of the likely factors behind their doubt … and also consider how the same factors are often at work in us. And as we do, we will see how Jesus breaks through each form of doubt we may be prone to.

So as we consider our text, we will see how the disciples (and how we) could be prone to four things: They could be prone to distraction, to devaluation, to deification, and to depersonalization.

So: distraction, devaluation, deification, and depersonalization.


The first thing we see here is that the disciples could be led to act the way they do – to act in doubt – because of distraction.

And I think there’s some indication of this in verse nineteen. There we’re told that the disciples locked the doors “for fear of the Jews.”

Now … what does that mean?

The disciples had just gotten the news that Jesus had risen from the dead – Mary Magdalene had seen him and talked to him. But the disciples didn’t act on that news … because they were focused instead on the possible threat from the Jewish leaders.

The Jewish leaders had killed Jesus. And now the disciples are worried that they could come for them next. And they focus on that, instead of on Jesus’s possible resurrection. They get distracted.

Which is kind of crazy … right?

It’s crazy because if Jesus has overcome death … that would seem to be bigger news than whatever the Jewish leaders are up to.

But it’s also crazy on a practical level, because the biggest threat the Jewish leaders could bring was to put the disciples to death … but if Jesus is more powerful than death – if Jesus has overcome death … then that eviscerates the power of the Jewish leaders … and the disciples probably shouldn’t waste time being distracted by them anymore – it’s only logical!

But distraction isn’t logical. And the types of distraction we often fall into can be even less logical. But they can be real factors in our lives, nonetheless.

I was reading an author recently who argued that one of the barriers to people becoming Christians is that people in the modern world don’t really have the mental capacity available to fully engage with what Christianity really is, and what it really claims.

And he wasn’t criticizing people’s intelligence, he was more saying that compared with people many centuries ago, we are inundated with constant information. News comes at us so fast, and it’s not just that we have the option to know about everything going on around the world, but we’re often told we have a responsibility to know everything going on around the world, from one day to the next. And that can take up a lot of our concentration and mental space.

Not just that, but there are also so many cultural products and productions that come at us and that we are expected to be up-to-date on: forms of entertainment, where if we don’t spend time engaging with them, and forming opinions on them, and so on, we feel disconnected from the fast-paced culture around us that’s always moving from one thing to the next.

Then there are the cultural debates, in which sides are going back-and-forth on all sorts of issues, and we are expected to have opinions on it all.

A medieval farmer faced many hardships that we do not. But he also didn’t have these kinds of constant, relentless demands on his attention and mental space.

And the author who was making this case, then argues that modern people can become so consumed with this flow of information … we can become so distracted with all these things (each of which may be good in itself, but all of which are overwhelming in aggregate) … we can be so overwhelmed by it all that our mental capacity is flooded, and we no longer have room to ask big questions about God, and meaning, and the purpose of human life.

We are too distracted, this author argues, by these lesser things. And so we neglect deeper, ultimate questions.

And I think for many of us, that rings true.

The wild thing was that the author who was making all these claims, about the flood of information we live in, was Abraham Kuyper. And he was writing over 110 years ago – in 1912. [Kuyper, Pro Rege, Vol I, Series I, Chapter 7 (It was James Eglinton, on Grace in Common [45:20-48:40]who made me aware of this chapter and its modern relevance.)]

And the world has not gotten less distracting since then.

We often find ourselves distracted. We are distracted with a barrage of current events. We are distracted with cultural debates. We are distracted by a whole range of fears and anxieties. And then, to get some sort of break from it all, we distract ourselves with diversions and entertainments.

And many of these things may have a good and proper place in our lives.

But the problem is that we often let them crowd out things that are even more important. We let them crowd out ultimate questions – questions like: What am I? What is the world? How did we get here? Is there a Divine Maker? And if so, what is my relationship to that Maker? What is the purpose of my life?

We can tend to ignore those questions to focus on lesser questions … just as the disciples seem to set aside the bigger question of whether Jesus rose from the dead, in order to focus on the lesser question of how they’re going to keep the Jewish leaders out of their room. They are distracted to the point of doubt.

Thankfully, Jesus doesn’t leave them to their distraction. Instead, he shows up, and breaks through.

By a miracle, though Jesus is raised from the dead, and has a real physical body, he shows up in the room where the door is locked. The disciples’ distraction cannot thwart him. He shows up, and he speaks to them, and as he does, he breaks through their distraction. They turn away from the lock on the door, and they turn their attention to him, and they are glad and rejoice that he is risen.

It would be the height of absurdity if Jesus had shown up in the room, and the disciples had ignored him, told him to quiet down, and kept their eyes on the lock on the door instead.

But that’s often how we act. Often, when through providence, or through his people, or through his Word, or by his Spirit, God breaks into our lives, and cuts through to our attention and is clearly present with us and at work in our lives … rather than turning towards him, we willfully keep out eyes on our distractions.

Do you see that temptation in your own life?

The first form of doubt we might consider in our text is distraction. But we are reminded that Jesus is more important than whatever might be getting our attention instead. And because he is risen, he can cut through our distraction. And as he does, we are called to turn to him.

That’s the first thing we see.


The second possibility for what was behind the disciples doubt here is devaluation. And what I mean by that is that they may have assumed that God did not value them enough to help them. And so they focused on helping themselves.

Maybe they believed that even if Jesus had risen … after what they had done, after how they had abandoned him in his hour of need, he certainly wouldn’t value them enough to come and help them now.

Or maybe, after Jesus’s death, they questioned whether Jesus really was the Messiah, along with whether God cared enough about them to send a Messiah at all.

Whatever the details, the form their doubt took may have been that they assumed they were of little value in God’s eyes, and so they shouldn’t expect anything from him. They saw themselves devalued before him.

And we can be tempted in a similar direction – whether we believe in God or not.

One form this could take is that we decide that we are so flawed – so sinful – that God (if there is a God) wouldn’t want anything to do with us anyway.

Another form this could take is that we devalue our very nature. This is an observation about modern thinking that theologian Chris Watkin draws from Blasé Pascal. We have a tendency to reduce human beings in our minds to either animals or machines. And when we do, we tend to see human beings as having very little intrinsic value. And so we think of ourselves, or we think of others in a devalued way. [Watkins, Gospelbound, 20:00-22:48; Biblical Critical Theory, 92-95]

It’s a common tendency in the modern world. But it’s also a tendency that Jesus overturns in our passage this morning – both for the disciples and also for us.

We see this in verses nineteen and twenty. There we read: “Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’ When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side.”

Those verses point to three ways that Jesus shows how much he values his disciples – and that he values them not because they deserve it, but simply because he loves them.

First, he seeks them out. He shows up. He is the Lord of the universe, the risen Messiah. He could go anywhere; he could do anything. But he chooses to seek them out and be with them. Because they are important to him. In his eyes, they are valued.

Second, he speaks to their fears. They are afraid, and he speaks words of peace to them. He cares about their distress. He wants to comfort them. Just as we heard Janet Jack share from her own life, so we see here: Jesus enters into the situations where his disciples are distressed, and he brings them his peace. Because he loves them. Because he values them.

And third, he shows them the sacrifice he made for them. We read in verse twenty that he showed them his hands and side. He showed them, in other words, the scars of his crucifixion. He reminded them that he had died so that his followers would be made right with God. So far from abandoning them because of their sin, he chose to suffer the agonies of the cross in order to save them from sin and death and hell – in order to restore them to a right relationship with him. That’s how much he loved them. That’s how much he valued them.

And that’s how much he values us as well. It’s true that we are finite and limited. More distressing than that, we are sinful and have lived unworthy loves. But the cross is a reminder that God values us anyway – not because we have given value to ourselves, but simply because he loves us. Because he loves us, he values us. And if he values us, then for that reason we have value.

So … though we may get distracted, Jesus breaks through our distraction.

Though we may devalue ourselves, Jesus, in his love, upends our devaluation and gives us value.


A third form that our doubt might take is not devaluation, but deification. It’s not that we lower ourselves but that we overly inflate ourselves.

And it’s possible that that might be what’s behind the disciples’ actions in verse nineteen as well.

There we’re told how they locked the door. And their focus on that might actually be an indication that they are thinking much too highly of their abilities to control and determine their lives.

Here’s what I mean. John tells us that they were afraid of the Jewish leaders in Jerusalem. But the Jewish leaders in the previous chapters had been working with the forces of Rome against Jesus.

Rome was, at this time, a super-power – the most powerful human force in the western world.

And so, the situation is that the most powerful people in the Jewish nation might be collaborating with the most powerful empire in the first-century western world … all to put this small group of Jewish peasants to death. That is the concern – that is the threat.

But don’t worry … they locked the door.

It’s kind of laughable. It’s a self-delusion of control and strength rather than the real thing.

But that’s not an uncommon thing to do.

We often, when faced with forces more powerful than ourselves, can lapse into a delusion  believing that we have power and control over our own lives that we don’t really have. We can act like we are little gods. We can deify ourselves.

And we all do this. We all convince ourselves that we can control our lives. We convince ourselves that we have made ourselves who we are today – we have made key decisions, carried out key actions, accomplished great accomplishments and thus we have made ourselves what we are now.

Or, if not that, we at least tell ourselves that from now on, we will make ourselves into who we want to become.

We tell ourselves we can control our fate.

But to trust in ourselves like that … is like trusting in a first-century door lock to keep you safe against the powerful Roman army. It’s a delusion. It’s a delusion of self-deification. We pretend that we are little gods. But we are not. And sometimes God shows us that explicitly.

Let me give you just one example from my own life.

Besides my relationship with God, if I had to identify the most important things in my life – the things that are key to who I am – I’d have to say that at the top of that list would be my wife and my children. And then, after that, there would be things like the specific theological framework in which I think and view the world, and God’s call on me to ministry here, in this denomination, and in this church. Those are key things that define me. And I’ve spent hours thinking about and making decisions about each one of those aspects of my life: decisions about pursuing my wife, and then asking her to marry me, about when we’d have kids and how we’d raise them, about my theological outlook, and my work in ministry. And because of all the time I’ve spent on those subjects, it can be very tempting for me to tell myself that I have made myself who I am – I have defined myself and chosen the path that brought me where I am today – that I am in control of my life.

But it was recently brought to my attention that I would not have any of those things: I wouldn’t be married to Rachel, none of my kids would exist, I wouldn’t be theologically Reformed, or a presbyterian, or here talking to you today – I’d have none of those key defining elements in my life … had it not been for a 24-year-old security guard noticing a piece of tape on a door in 1972. It’s true. Let me explain.

My life was significantly shaped by a ministry called Reformed University Fellowship (or RUF) that was on my college campus in New York City. I didn’t grow up in a Reformed or presbyterian church, and it was through the ministry of RUF that I came to the specific theological convictions that I have today. It was through RUF that I came into the Presbyterian Church in America (the PCA) – the denomination of this church. And so it’s only because of the ministry of RUF in New York City that I am a pastor here, at this church, this morning.

But it’s not just that. It was through RUF that I met my wife, Rachel. She wasn’t even at the same school as me – but we met through that ministry. And RUF also shaped both of us into people who could date and then marry each other … because before we were both influenced by our RUF pastor Vito, we were so different that when some of our mutual friends heard we were dating, they thought it was a joke. And so without RUF we would never have met, never have married, and our kids would never have been born.

But here’s the thing. RUF only existed in New York City because by that point the Metro New York Presbytery of our denomination (the PCA) had grown strong enough to start and sustain it. And the presbytery only really existed in the strength that it did because of the success of a larger PCA church that had been established in New York City called Redeemer. And Redeemer only existed and succeeded as it did because a pastor named Tim Keller had decided to accept the call to go to Manhattan and plant that church for the PCA. And Keller was only in PCA because of how he was influenced by a professor named Andrew Lincoln at Gordon-Conwell, who tipped Keller’s perspective from one theological framework to another one, which required his move into the PCA. But Keller and Lincoln only overlapped at Gordon-Conwell for one semester. But that one semester overlap actually wasn’t supposed to happen.

Andrew Lincoln is British. And he was hired to come teach at Gordon-Conwell seminary, but the process became mired in red tape. It was expected to be a year before Lincoln would get there – in which case he would have missed Keller completely. But one day the dean of Gordon-Conwell was on his knees praying about the situation, and a student named Mike Ford walked by and asked the dean what he was praying about. The dean told him. And it turned out that Mike Ford was able to cut through all the red tape. And he could do that because his father, Gerald Ford, was the President of the United States. But Gerald Ford was president only because Richard Nixon had resigned. Nixon had resigned because of the Watergate scandal. And the Watergate scandal broke because on June 17, 1972, the twenty-four-year-old Frank Wills, who was a security guard at the Watergate office building noticed a piece of tape on a door that those who had broken into the building illegally were using to keep the door ajar. And when he saw it, he called the police. [Hansen, 73-74]

So … if Wills doesn’t notice the tape, then Watergate never happens, Nixon doesn’t resign, Ford doesn’t become president, Lincoln doesn’t get to Gordon-Conwell in time to teach Keller, Keller doesn’t become Reformed or join the PCA, Redeemer in New York City never gets planted, RUF in New York doesn’t exist in the early 2000s, I never meet my wife, my children are never born, I never become a Reformed Presbyterian, and I never come here to pastor this church.

Without a man noticing a piece of tape on a door over a decade before I was born, I would be an extremely different person than I am today. And of course, I’ve never had any control over whether he noticed that tape or not.

And that’s just one example of a thing like that in my life, that I know of. I’m sure there are so many more.

We are not little gods who are sovereign over who we are or who we will become. We are not in control of our lives. We do not make ourselves what we are.

And there’s three ways to respond to that fact.

One is denial. We just try to ignore it and pretend we’re still in control.

Another is despair. We assume the trajectories of our lives are random and meaningless.

But a third is that we recognize that there are not just blind, brute, forces that are sovereign over our lives. But rather, above it all, there is a Person who is sovereign over everything that happens to us. And his caring sovereignty over us doesn’t rob our choices and our efforts of meaning … but rather it gives them meaning. The third option is to see that God’s sovereignty and care over us gives us dignity without deification. [Watkins, Gospelbound, 20:00-22:48; Biblical Critical Theory, 92-95]

And that’s how Jesus treats his disciples in verse twenty-one. He doesn’t treat the disciples as little gods or as meaningless cogs in a machine. Rather, he treats them as dignified creatures, by making them a part of what he is doing in the world: “As the Father has sent me, even so I am sending you.” he says.

Jesus has a mission in the world to build his kingdom. And he recruits the disciples in that mission. He raises their dignity by making them part of what God is doing in the world.

But at the very same time that he dignifies them, he also makes it clear that they are not gods. Rather, they are creatures. And Jesus, God’s Son, is their Lord. And so he has the authority and the ability to command and direct their lives. With his words in verse twenty-one, Jesus sets the trajectory for the rest of the disciples’ lives. The disciples in that room will live the remainder of their lives carrying out the commission Jesus has given them.

We are not little gods who can protect ourselves. We are not little gods who can define our own truths. We are not little gods who can make ourselves. We are not little gods who can do as we please.

We are, rather, dignified creatures. We have value because our Maker values us. We have truth because he is Truth. We are protected because he protects us. We can grow and change because he will grow and change us.

And that is good news.

And so, third, contrary to our tendency to deify ourselves, Jesus gives us creaturely dignity in the gospel.

So we’ve considered distraction, devaluation, and deification.


A fourth possibility – a fourth form the disciple’s doubt might have taken would be depersonalization.

And by that, I mean depersonalization of Jesus.

It’s weird how, after getting the news of verse eighteen, they just ignore Jesus in the first part of verse nineteen.

And as they do … in a sense they treat Jesus – the treat God – more like an idea than like a person. They depersonalize him.

An idea, you can stick in a drawer when things get busy. You can ignore it to attend to other things. But a person is different. A person can’t just be brushed aside. And if you try that, they may just speak up and demand your attention.

Which is, in a sense, what Jesus does here. He comes and he speaks up. Because he’s not just some abstract idea that can be ignored until a more convenient time. He’s a person. And a person can demand our attention.

And we know this … and yet we too can be guilty of depersonalizing God. Don’t you see this trend in your life?

We can go long stretches – whole lifetimes even – without acknowledging certain abstract ideas, and it’s fine. I can go long stretches without acknowledging or thinking much about economic theory … or political philosophy … or quantum physics … and my failure to acknowledge or think about those things doesn’t really have a major impact on my life or anyone else’s.

But you can’t do that with people. If I were to try to go just one day at work without acknowledging my co-workers … it’d be weird. If I were to try to go a day at home without acknowledging or speaking to my wife or my children … it’d be even weirder. And it wouldn’t be long before it caused huge problems in my life.

And yet … how long can we catch ourselves going without acknowledging God? Without interacting with him? And we spend every moment in his presence.

When we ignore him, we treat him more like an idea or a law of physics than an actual person. But our God – the Christian God – is a personal God … and he should be treated as such.

And though Jesus is not physically present with us as he was with the disciples in our text, he reminds us in verse twenty-two that he is still with us even now by the Holy Spirit. We live our lives before the personal presence of God.

And so, when we avoid God – when we fail to acknowledge him in our lives, or speak to him in prayer, or listen to him by attending to his Word to us in the Scriptures – we’re not just failing to engage with an important idea. We are ignoring a person – the most important person in the universe.

Thankfully, God often does not let us get away with that. By the Holy Spirit, he confronts us. He speaks to us through his Word or through his people. He arranges events in our lives that cause us to step back and think about him. He illuminates our heart so that we become more aware of his presence with us and our need for him.

Maybe he’s doing that in your life right now.

What you need to do is acknowledge him. Speak to him. Listen to him. Rejoice with him, as the disciples do in verse twenty. And embrace him as your Lord, your Savior, and your King, as they do in verse twenty-one.

Conclusion (Denying Hope?)

When we hear the good news that Jesus Christ is risen, there are many forms our doubt can take.

We may push the announcement aside by distracting ourselves, or devaluing ourselves, or deifying ourselves, or by depersonalizing him.

But sometimes, I think that even behind that, can be our tendency simply to deny the possibility of hope.

Hope can be a scary thing. If there is an ultimate objective meaning to life, beyond all our distractions … if real, solid, dignity is available to us rather than a low devaluing, or a false deification of ourselves … if there is a personal God who wants to know us personally … then that would be incredible.

But hope can be scary. Hope takes courage. And so often, instead, we deny hope. We kill hope. Because we think that numb hopelessness is safer than the risk of hoping.

But it’s not. A hopeless cynicism is just as naïve and foolish as groundless optimism. But the gospel is neither. The gospel challenges us to see the world as it truly is.

This world didn’t just happen. God made it. Sin and sadness, death and brokenness – these are not just natural facts of life, they are alien forces that have invaded this world.

And we are not left to ourselves to sort it all out, but God himself came in Jesus Christ to rescue us from sin and death. He lived the life we should have lived. He died the death we deserved to die, in our place. And then he rose from the dead, defeating sin and death for us. And in him, we can have full and eternal life. We can have meaning. We can have dignity. We can know God, our Maker, personally.

This morning, by the Holy Spirit, Jesus stands among us. He speaks to us words of peace. He reminds us of what he has done for us. He calls us to follow him.

The most important thing in your life is how you will respond.

So direct your attention to him. Rejoice in what he has done. And follow him wherever he leads.

Because there is nothing more important than knowing the risen Lord.


This sermon draws on material from:

Carson, D.A. The Gospel According to John. PNTC. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1991.

Eglinton, James. Grace in Common. “Uncommon Unity with Richard Lints” December 15, 2022. (See 45:20-48:40) https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/graceincommon4/episodes/Uncommon-Unity-with-Richard-Lints-e1rk3l4

Hansen, Collin. Timothy Keller: His Spiritual and Intellectual Formation. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan Reflective, 2023.

Kuyper, Abraham. “Distracted Thinking” in Pro Rege: Living Under Christ the King. Vol I. Translated by Albert Gootjes. Edited by John Kok with Nelson D. Kloosterman. Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2016.

Watkin, Christopher. Biblical Critical Theory: How the Bible’s Unfolding Story Makes Sense of Modern Life and Culture. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan Academic, 2022.

Watkin, Christopher. Interview on Gospelbound. “Keller’s Formation: Christopher Watkin on Charles Taylor and Social Criticism” Hosted by Collin Hansen. February 7, 2023. https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/podcasts/gospelbound/kellers-formation-christopher-watkin/

CCLI Copyright License 751114; CCLI Streaming License CSPL116892