Dock Resource Kit
Sunday sermon, 4 May 2025
This week Abie spoke to us about the story of the Emmaus Road in Luke 24, where two disciples almost missed the risen Jesus because they were too caught up in their disappointment. She reminded us that even when we feel defeated, Christ walks beside us – often unseen – and that resurrection hope means we don’t need to walk away. Drawing on personal stories, including the death of her friend, Abie encouraged us to be a community that chooses to stay, to mourn together, to hold onto hope, and to keep our eyes open for the presence of Jesus even in pain.
Dock Discussion Questions
“We had hoped…” – What are some areas in your life where hope has felt lost or deferred? How do you think Jesus might have been present even when you didn’t recognise him?
What does it look like to be a “hope factory” in your community or church? How can your small group become more like that?
Have there been moments in your life when you only realised afterwards that God was with you? What helped you see it in hindsight?
What does it mean for you personally to “stay with us” – to remain part of Christian community even when you feel like walking away?
Long-form, editted transcript
Introduction: Don’t Leave Too Soon
Hello. If you’ve not met me before, my name is Abie and I’m part of the team here.
They say you should talk about what you know. Well, contrary to that, I’m going to start by talking about football, which I know nothing about.
Apparently, last summer during the Euros, things were looking pretty good for England. The tournament was held in Germany, and there was one match in particular where England were up against Slovakia. A team we were pretty confident we would beat. About 25 minutes in, Slovakia scored. According to an article I read, England played poorly. The article didn’t say “poorly”, but that’s the word I’m going to use up here.
England played poorly, and then nothing happened for the next hour. At that point, a lot of England fans got up and left. They had probably invested a lot in this. They’d spent money on train tickets, hotels, plane fares. So they got up and left. They were angry that their team hadn’t come through for them. They were pretty sure they were about to get kicked out of the Euros and they weren’t sticking around to watch.
Maybe it was anger. Maybe sadness. Frustration. Disappointment. So they left.
Now, if you’re as much of a football fanatic as me, you’ll know that most football games last about 90 minutes. But sometimes, at the end, they add injury time. That’s when they tot up all the time the men spend on the floor and add it to the end of the game.
This game went into injury time. And in injury time, Jude Bellingham scored an apparently incredible goal – an overhead goal – which equalised the game. Then a few minutes later, Harry Kane scored the winning goal which secured England’s place in the quarter-finals.
All those fans who had left the stadium might already have been on the train home. They might have been back at their hotels when their phones alerted them that England had won. Or maybe they were in the car park, and they tried to run back into the stadium but the security guards said no. So they were just left outside, hearing the cheers of the crowd, watching people file out, excited, knowing they had missed it.
Walking Away Too Soon
Today’s story is a little bit like that. It’s found in Luke 24 – the story of the Emmaus Road. It’s about two men who nearly missed out on the significance of history’s greatest event because they were too preoccupied with their own disappointment.
Let me set the scene a little. Everything has just gone down in Jerusalem. Easter has just happened – the first Easter. We’ve already seen glimpses of Jesus’ ministry in Jerusalem. He heals a couple of people there. He does some teaching there. But on Palm Sunday, it’s Jerusalem that Jesus triumphantly enters, riding on a donkey. People lay down cloaks for him. They lay down palm leaves. They cheer, “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” They declare that he is King.
And then, just a few days later, that same Jesus is arrested, beaten, tortured, and killed on the cross.
This story happens just after that. The crowds who had cheered for him as he entered now face a choice: what do they do in the face of defeat?
The disciples – now eleven – are still there in Jerusalem, gathered and mourning together, probably wondering what would happen next. Would they be killed as well? What about the promises Jesus made? What does all this mean for them?
But today, the story focuses on two men who left. Two men who, like those football fans, had seen enough. Defeat seemed certain. So they walked away.
Reading the Emmaus Road
At this point, I invited someone to come and read the story to us. In the story, there are two men. One is named Cleopas. We don’t know the name of the other person. So I suggested that we imagine ourselves in that place. As the story is read, close your eyes and imagine you are the other person on the road.
Now that same day, two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem. They were talking with each other about everything that had happened.
As they talked and discussed these things with each other, Jesus himself came up and walked along with them; but they were kept from recognising him.
He asked them, “What are you discussing together as you walk along?”
They stood still, their faces downcast. One of them, named Cleopas, asked him, “Are you the only one visiting Jerusalem who doesn’t know the things that have happened there in these days?”
“What things?” he asked.
“About Jesus of Nazareth,” they replied. “He was a prophet, powerful in word and deed before God and all the people. The chief priests and our rulers handed him over to be sentenced to death, and they crucified him; but we had hoped that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel.
“And what is more, it is the third day since all this took place. In addition, some of our women amazed us. They went to the tomb early this morning but didn’t find his body. They came and told us that they had seen a vision of angels, who said he was alive. Then some of our companions went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said, but they did not see Jesus.”
He said to them, “How foolish you are, and how slow to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Did not the Messiah have to suffer these things and then enter his glory?”
And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself.
As they approached the village to which they were going, Jesus continued on as if he were going farther. But they urged him strongly, “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening; the day is almost over.”
So he went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them.
Then their eyes were opened and they recognised him, and he disappeared from their sight.
They asked each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?”
They got up and returned at once to Jerusalem. There they found the Eleven and those with them, assembled together and saying, “It is true! The Lord has risen and has appeared to Simon.”
Then the two told what had happened on the way, and how Jesus was recognised by them when he broke the bread.
The Inevitability of Disappointment
The first point I want to make from this passage is what I’ve optimistically titled: the inevitability of disappointment.
This passage contains what I think are three of the saddest words in the Bible. That phrase: “We had hoped.”
Perhaps when we heard it just now, and we imagined ourselves in the story, we too felt those words. Maybe there was a situation that came to mind where we had hoped but didn’t see the fulfilment.
These two men weren’t just casual observers. They weren’t just interested spectators who happened to see what went down. They were true believers in Jesus. They said, “He was a prophet, powerful in word and deed. We had hoped that he would redeem us.” All of it is said in the past tense, by men who had given up.
In the face of defeat, these men – like the football fans at the beginning – had left. When it appeared that all was lost, they walked away. Maybe it was fear. Maybe fear of persecution, or of ridicule. Maybe it was sadness or anger. But whatever it was, they had decided there was nothing left for them in Jerusalem.
And the truth is, as believers, we are not immune to disappointment.
Two weeks ago, we had an incredible Easter celebration here. We celebrated the victory of Jesus rising from the dead. He defeated death. He freed us from sin. We celebrated our salvation.
We baptised fourteen people here on Easter Sunday. Fourteen people who chose to say yes to Jesus. Yes to new life. Yes.
And we don’t just celebrate this once a year on Easter. We celebrate this every single Sunday when we come together. We celebrate the reality of our freedom, the reality of our salvation, every single time we gather.
We are sitting here today as post-Easter people, living in the knowledge of the resurrection and salvation. But despite this, until he comes again in glory, we must still accept that we live in a fallen world. A world full of confusion and disappointment. A world with sickness, evil and injustice.
We are not immune to disappointment.
So we must ask ourselves: what do we do in the face of defeat?
There’s a quote often attributed to John Lennon that says: “Everything will be okay in the end. And if it’s not okay, it’s not the end.”
We hold out for hope. We hold out because we know there is always more. There is always better to come.
That doesn’t mean it’s wrong for us to feel sadness. It doesn’t mean it’s wrong for us to mourn.
When Jesus’ friend Lazarus died, the Bible tells us that Jesus mourned. He cried with Lazarus’ sisters, even though he knew that redemption was coming. Even though he knew Lazarus would rise from the dead. Even though he knew there was a miracle about to happen, he still took that moment to cry with them and to mourn with them.
It’s not wrong to feel those feelings.
Let’s hark back to our Romans series from a few weeks ago. You might remember in Romans 8, Paul says:
“The sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing to the glory that is to be revealed to us.”
We are not promised an easy life. In fact, Jesus often warned his followers that they would be persecuted. But we hold on to the knowledge that one day, we will see a glory unimaginable. A world with no pain, no sickness, where all tears will be wiped away. We are promised eternity with him in heaven, and peace on this earth which surpasses all understanding.
In John 16:33, Jesus says:
“In me, you may have peace. In the world, you will have tribulation. But take heart, for I have overcome the world.”
We are people who experience the losses of today but believe in the victories of tomorrow. We feel the pains of humanity in this life, but we believe in the freedom and salvation that have been granted to us in the next.
And we are not called to experience either the victories or the losses alone.
The Importance of Community
Point two, for those taking notes: the importance of community.
During COVID, we had someone on the team who was brought on as a kind of tech consultant. This was the season of live streaming, pre-recorded content, editing – and he was absolutely brilliant. Super talented. Exactly what we needed to help us through.
I used to refer to him as the world’s worst atheist. Because despite telling us that he had no faith, that he didn’t believe in God, he worked tirelessly to support this church. To help each of us continue to encounter God. To help us continue putting together our services.
One day, during a staff team meeting, he prayed. And during that prayer, he described SPS as a “hope factory.”
COVID meant a lot of work had dried up for him, and he was facing uncertainty. But being here, surrounded by Christians, editing preaches, mixing worship, hearing testimonies, sitting in our staff meetings – he found hope.
He also found a wife. But he found hope.
An adamant atheist in the middle of a pandemic, and he recognised that this wasn’t some rare, unique thing. It wasn’t a strange occurrence that he would find hope here. This is what SPS does.
As a community of believers, we are a factory of hope.
In Genesis 2, God says, “It is not good for man to be alone.”
In Hebrews 10, we read:
“Let us hold unswervingly to the hope that we profess, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds – not giving up meeting together.”
It is not good for us to be alone. And we must never give up meeting together.
Not Just Celebration – Also Lament
I said earlier that we meet together every Sunday to celebrate the truth of our salvation – and that’s true. But maybe some people think that’s all we do. That we just sing praises and talk about how wonderful God is.
And we do do that. Because God is wonderful. And so is our band.
But we don’t just come here to celebrate. We also come here to lament.
We want to be a people who celebrate when our prayers are miraculously answered. When we’re seeing incredible breakthroughs in our lives. When God has powerfully moved.
But we also want to be a people who can turn up with broken hearts and tears rolling down our faces and still believe there is something for us here. Still believe there is hope.
We want to be a community that is honest and vulnerable enough to reach out for support when we feel defeated. People who draw nearer in the face of loss instead of walking away. People who look out for those around us who we feel might be slipping. The ones who are about to leave the stadium.
Despair has a way of leading us into isolation. We feel disappointed, and our immediate reaction can be to disconnect.
And if you feel like that – as this passage says – I urge you strongly: stay with us.
Let us come together to remind each one of us that we have hope in Christ. Let us not be a fair-weather congregation who celebrate the good times and hide away in the bad. Let us not be disappointed supporters who leave before the final whistle.
Let us always be expectant. Standing shoulder to shoulder. Believing in that winning goal. And lamenting together until we see it.
The So-Called Invisibility of Christ
My final point today is what I’m calling the so-called invisibility of Christ.
In John 20, you might remember when Mary goes to visit Jesus’ tomb. He appears to her in the garden – and she doesn’t recognise him. In her grief, she argues with him. She accuses him of having stolen the body.
In John 21, the disciples are fishing when Jesus calls out to them from the shore. He says, “Friends!” And they don’t recognise him either.
Here in this story, it says that Jesus came and walked alongside them both on the road – and they didn’t know it was him.
I wonder how much of their failure to notice him was supernatural, and how much was their own humanity. Their grief, their confusion, their disappointment – clouding their vision.
Of course, the climax of the story is Jesus revealing himself to them. Showing that he had been there all along. In the breaking of the bread, they finally recognise him. And then they rush back saying, “We have seen him!”
Because although we may not always see him there, however far away we run, he is truly always with us.
But in truth, we are far more likely to miss him if we are not expecting to see him. We are far more likely to recognise him when we are looking.
It’s often said that we only see Jesus in our lives with hindsight. These two men said, “Were our hearts not burning within us while he talked with us?”
How much time had they spent in his presence and not even realised until after he was gone?
How differently could that whole interaction have gone if they had been more open to the encounter? If they had been more expectant to see him in the first place?
Dimitri’s Great Hope
There’s a popular saying in sermon preparation: “Preach from your scars, not your wounds.”
But contrary to that, I want to tell you about my friend Dimitri.
Dimitri was an ordinand, studying at St Mellitus with me. A previous XLP youth worker. A really good friend of ours. He worked alongside Michael. An incredible guy with an incredible ministry and a Kingdom influence wherever he went.
Two months ago, while playing football at an outreach session, Dimitri had a seizure. He was rushed to hospital, unconscious.
Across that weekend, hundreds and hundreds of people prayed for him. We fasted. We worshipped. We pleaded. We believed.
Four days after he arrived, he died.
We buried him on Wednesday.
We had hoped.
We had hoped for a miracle.
We had hoped that he would wake up.
We had hoped that he would be redeemed.
We thought we knew what redemption would look like in that situation. And we didn’t see it.
But despite this, as soon as the message of his passing came through on our WhatsApp group, all of those prayers for healing turned into prayers of thanksgiving. Prayers for one another. Words of comfort and worship. Offers of support and love.
A week later, I led worship with an incredible team of women at our college. We sang over a room full of people who were crying, and still praising God.
And at the church on Wednesday, we sang together again, with tears rolling down our faces:
“Oh trampled death, where is your sting?”
And we believed it.
We believed it because although we are heartbroken, we are hopeful.
We are heartbroken because we are human.
And we are hopeful because we are his.
We remember that Jesus has won the victory over sin, death and destruction. And one day, we will see that redemption.
I have seen and felt and heard Jesus more clearly in all of this than I have in a long time. Because I knew I had to consciously look.
I had to tell myself: keep looking for Jesus – because you will find him.
Of course, when Dimitri died, part of me wanted to turn and walk away. Just like the men on the road. To take the opposite direction.
But instead, I made a conscious decision to look for God. And I found him.
The evening that Dimitri died, the Church of England – not knowing anything of his situation – posted a video of him as part of their Lent series. It had been filmed a couple of weeks earlier.
In the video, Dimitri spoke about hope. He told a powerful story about a young person he’d worked with.
And his closing words in the video were:
“Whatever we may face, whatever we may go through – we have a hope. Hope in our Lord Most High. And practically, that means surrender and petition. But also, it means laying down our burdens at the foot of the cross.”
His last message to us, posted on the eve of his death, was this:
Whatever you are going through, come back to Jesus. Come back to the cross. And have hope.
If I Knew Then What I Know Now
At this point, I invited the band to come and join us again.
I had texted our worship leader a few weeks earlier to tell her what I was preaching on, to give her a sense of what I might be saying so she could choose songs. And she absolutely knocked it out of the park.
I had never heard the song “You Were Always on Time” before. But as they were rehearsing earlier, just one line really hit me:
“If I knew then what I know now, I would be still and let you work it out.”
I just think of those two men on the Emmaus Road. I imagine them saying to each other:
“If I knew now…
If I knew what amazing things were going to happen back in Jerusalem…
If I had known that Jesus was going to be on that road with me…
If I had known what was going to happen…
I would have been still.
I would have let it happen to me.
I would have opened my eyes.”
The Story Continues in Acts
Immediately following the Gospel of Luke – the story we’ve just heard – comes the Book of Acts. The story of what happened next.
The disciples remained in Jerusalem after Jesus’ death. We don’t know exactly what it was, but something gave them the courage to stay. Something gave them the courage to hold on.
Maybe it was the support of the others. Maybe it was Jesus’ teaching – the Scriptures that gave them hope. Maybe it was something special about the place itself. Or maybe it was that quiet, nagging feeling from the Lord that urged them to wait.
But whatever it was – despite their grief, their confusion, their disappointment – the disciples held on.
Together they mourned. And then, together, they celebrated.
And in Acts, we read that together they started the early church.
We are sitting here today because they waited. We are sitting here today because they had hope. Because they didn’t leave.
Their defiance in the face of defeat, their commitment to stay together, their anticipation to see Jesus move even when it looked impossible – their community has formed millions.
We are sitting here today because they didn’t leave.
And maybe – Cleopas and his companion – maybe because they came back, because their eyes were opened, they got to be part of that too. Maybe they were there in Acts as part of that early church.
Don’t Walk Away
Stories like the Emmaus Road teach us that we can never truly walk away from God, because he will always be there to meet us.
They teach us that God is always guiding us and teaching us, even when we can’t see him.
But they also teach us that when life gets hard, we can be tempted to quit. To walk away.
And we don’t know what we’re missing out on.
The band is going to lead us now in a few more songs. But some of us will be down at the front, and if anyone would like prayer – please come forward.
For anything. It could be something I’ve said today. It could be something completely different. Please don’t leave here today feeling like you missed out on the opportunity to receive prayer.
Concluding Prayer
Let me pray for us now.
Lord, I thank you for every person in this room.
Maybe there are people here today whose hearts are too broken to see you. Maybe they think there’s no reason to stick around. I pray that you whisper in their ears today.
I pray that you urge them strongly to stay with us. Increase in them hope. Remind them that victory has come – and will come again.
Lord, for all of us, I pray that we never stop looking for you. That we always live expectant, knowing we will see you. May each of our hearts burn today. And let us not only realise it this evening, or next week. Let us realise it in the moment.
Let us be so present that we feel you. That we know you.
That we experience you. Let us not be people who only recognise you in hindsight.
As a church, let us be people whose eyes are open. To those around us who are struggling – Those who are mourning. Those who are grieving. Those who are disappointed. Those who are sad, or angry. Those who are defeated.
Make us aware of them, Lord. Teach us how to love them well. Fill us with your Holy Spirit. Give us the right words to say, the right things to do. Let us love people well, so we don’t have people walking away. Let us love each other well.
And Lord, if there are people in this room who are already on that walk – I pray that you reveal yourself to them. I pray for that Emmaus Road moment. That moment that brings them back.
Come, Lord Jesus. Come meet us now.
Amen.