Dock Resource Kit
Sunday sermon, 11 May 2025
This week Brigid spoke to us about the story of Thomas in John 20, exploring how doubt and devotion can live side by side. In a locked room filled with fear and confusion, Jesus appeared not to condemn but to speak peace. Brigid reminded us that Jesus invites us to bring our honest questions, whether they come from longing or fear, and that he meets us with compassion and clarity. The story of Thomas shows that faith is not about having it all figured out, but about being willing to trust, follow, and worship the risen Christ.
Dock Discussion Questions
Can you relate to Thomas’ need to see for himself before believing? How do you usually respond to doubt in your own life?
Brigid spoke about questions that come from fear and questions that come from longing. How do you tell the difference in yourself, and how do you think God responds to each?
What are some “locked rooms” in your life right now – places of fear, shame or unanswered questions – where you long for Jesus to show up?
Jesus sent his disciples even while they still had doubts. What might it look like for you to live out your faith this week, even in the midst of uncertainty?
Long-form, editted transcript
Seeing the Scars: Doubt, Peace and the Risen Christ
John 20:19–29
FOMO, the Queen, and the Power of Missing Out
Good morning, everybody. My name is Brgid, if we haven’t met before. I’m also part of the team here, and it is great to be with you this morning.
When I was about eleven, they announced that Queen Elizabeth was coming to visit the town I grew up in. She was coming, I think, to unveil a statue or something in the town, and we were all very excited. Quite a few of the primary schools around the area announced they were going to take groups of kids down to meet the Queen, wave and greet her.
But my school said, “No. You’re not allowed to go. Maths is more important. You have to stay in school.” They even sent us home with notes to our parents saying, “You can’t take your kids out of school to go and see the Queen.”
And my parents—probably because they were both at work—said, “Yeah, okay, fine. You can’t go.”
I was gutted. I couldn’t believe the Queen was going to be five roads away from my house and I wouldn’t get to see her.
And then it turned out that on the day, loads of kids from my school went anyway. Their parents took them out. Everyone was fine with it. There were no repercussions. I think basically half the teachers thought, “Obviously, we’re going to go and see the Queen.”
So I was just one kid sat in school, not able to go. Absolutely gutted. Incredulous. I’d lost this opportunity.
I wonder if you’ve ever had one of those moments where you think, “I just missed out.” It’s frustrating—missing a moment, a person, a game, an encounter.
Apparently, FOMO—fear of missing out—is so strong that it drives marketing. There are entire strategies based on making people feel left out. Wild.
Today’s Bible reading is exactly that sort of moment. A little bit of FOMO. As we hear it, I wonder if you can put yourself in the shoes of the people in the story.
The Disciples in Hiding
John 20:19-29
On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.”
After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord.
Again Jesus said, “Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.”
And with that he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit.
If you forgive anyone’s sins, their sins are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven.”
Now Thomas (also known as Didymus), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came.
So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!”
But he said to them, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”
A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them.
Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!”
Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.”
Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!”
Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”
This is the word of the Lord.
The Locked Room and the Unexpected Welcome
So here we are, in a room with a group of Jesus’ followers who are scared and confused. The doors are locked. They’re hiding. Fear and confusion are swirling—maybe some shame too, as many of them had run when Jesus was arrested. They’re terrified that because they were associated with Jesus, they might be arrested too.
You can feel the tension brewing.
And then, without explanation or knocking, Jesus appears.
I wonder if you can resonate with that stomach-dropping moment when you’re pretty sure someone is angry with you, and then they walk into the room. You get awkward. You feel that rush of shame.
But this isn’t a small disagreement. This is huge. Peter denied even knowing Jesus. Many of them abandoned him at his darkest hour. This is a recipe for complete relational breakdown.
And yet, instead of arriving with rebuke, Jesus does something totally unexpected. He says:
“Peace be with you.”
Four words. Utterly transformative. So tender. So kind. So clear.
Before we go any further: if you’re here today, whether you’d call yourself a Christian or not, and you’re feeling like one of those disciples—assuming Jesus is here to condemn you—then hear this.
Jesus sees you. And says, “Peace be with you.”
Peace in your heart.
Peace in your mind.
Peace with yourself.
Peace between you and God.
That is Jesus’ gift to us—this morning and every morning.
Resurrection Life and a New Commission
After offering them peace, Jesus shows his friends the scars on his body—the evidence that he had truly died. And if they can see that he died, it makes it all the more real and extraordinary that he is now standing there, alive.
Again he says, “Peace be with you.”
And then he breathes on them. Which, let’s be honest, is a bit weird. If you saw someone after the most traumatic weekend of your life and they just… breathed on you—it might feel strange.
But John, who writes this gospel, is making a very deliberate connection.
He’s harking all the way back to Genesis. Right at the beginning of the Bible, Genesis 2:7 says:
“Then the Lord God formed a human from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.”
At the beginning of creation, God breathed—and life came into being.
Now, in John 20, the disciples are already alive in a physical sense. They are walking and talking like any other human. But then the risen Jesus breathes on them and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit.”
And in that moment, a new kind of life begins. A new spiritual reality is birthed—a resurrection life.
With it comes a new spiritual purpose and authority. Jesus says:
“As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.
Receive the Holy Spirit.
If you forgive anyone their sins, they are forgiven.
If you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven.”
In other words, “Go and do as I have done.”
This is the man who changed everything. Who turned society’s expectations upside down. Who told people to give away their money. To love their enemies. Who healed. Who was crucified. And who is now alive again.
And he says to this group of frightened, doubting, flawed friends:
“Go and do what I did—with peace, by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
And look at who he’s sending. These aren’t perfect, fearless, theologically trained leaders. They’re probably young adults—late teens or early twenties. They are full of doubt. Full of questions. Still processing what they’ve seen.
But he sends them anyway.
Enter Thomas: Honest Doubt and Deep Devotion
This is where Thomas enters the scene.
Verse 24: “Thomas, also known as Didymus (which means twin), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came.”
So the other disciples tell him: “We’ve seen the Lord!”
And I bet Thomas was gutted. Probably even more gutted than I was when I missed the Queen. He’d missed this life-changing moment.
We don’t know why Thomas wasn’t there. Maybe he needed space to grieve alone. Maybe he was out fetching dinner. Maybe he just couldn’t sit still in the pain. Whatever the reason—he missed it.
When the others tell him what happened, he responds with deep honesty:
“Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”
Now, he doesn’t say, “I’ll never believe.”
He doesn’t say, “This is impossible.”
What he does say is: “This matters so much that I need it to be true. And I need to see it for myself.”
I think Thomas’ statement is really a set of questions in disguise.
Is this really the same Jesus who died?
Has death really been defeated?
Can I really trust this story?
I don’t believe Thomas is doubting because he’s sceptical. I think he’s cautious because he really cares.
Because if the resurrection is true, it changes everything.
The Boldness of Thomas
Why do I think Thomas is not simply doubting out of disbelief? Because we’ve seen him before in John’s gospel—and he’s bold.
In John chapter 11, Jesus is on his way to see Mary and Martha because their brother Lazarus is dying. The disciples are nervous because the last time they were in that region, the religious leaders had tried to stone Jesus.
But Thomas says, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”
This is someone prepared to die for what he believes. He doesn’t lack courage.
And in John chapter 14, Jesus is speaking to his disciples about preparing a place for them in his Father’s house. And Thomas says to Jesus, “Lord, we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way?”
He wants to stay close to Jesus. He wants to understand. He wants to go where Jesus is going.
So when we come to this moment in John 20, I don’t think Thomas is doubting because he’s cynical. I think he is longing for this to be true. He needs to be sure. Because if it’s true, it’s everything.
And so we’re told it takes a week. A full week passes.
Can you imagine what must have gone through Thomas’s mind during that time? The tension, the questions, the fear that maybe he’d missed out forever?
Then Jesus appears again. And this time, Thomas is there.
Jesus Meets Us in Our Questions
Again, Jesus says, “Peace be with you.” And then, to Thomas directly:
“Put your finger here.
See my hands.
Reach out your hand and put it into my side.
Stop doubting and believe.”
And Thomas responds with one of the most powerful declarations in all of Scripture:
“My Lord and my God.”
Thomas sees the scars. He sees the wound. And he knows: this is God.
Not a distant deity. Not an idea. Not a myth.
A God who suffered and bled. A God who shows up in a locked room. A God who meets him with compassion and peace—even in the midst of doubt and confusion.
And notice—Jesus doesn’t shame him. He doesn’t say, “Why didn’t you believe the others?” He meets Thomas exactly where he is. With gentleness. With truth.
This is the same Jesus who wants to meet each of us in that way too.
Questions and Faith Can Coexist
Many of us carry doubts and questions of all different kinds—whether we’re new to faith or have been following Jesus for years.
There are intellectual questions:
Is the Bible reliable?
How does faith reconcile with science?
There are moral questions:
How can I trust a church that’s been involved in injustice or exclusion?
Is Christianity actually good?
And there are personal questions:
Where is God in my suffering?
Can I trust God with my pain?
Does the church really want someone like me?
Does God really care about me?
Thomas’ question—“If only I could just have some proof”—is echoed throughout the Bible.
Abraham and Sarah doubted they could have a child in old age.
Moses doubted whether he was the right person to lead God’s people.
David’s psalms are full of questions and lament.
Even at the end of Matthew’s Gospel, we’re told:
“The eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go.
When they saw him, they worshipped him—but some doubted.”
Right there, even after the resurrection, some still doubted. And yet Jesus commissions them:
“All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.
Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”
It’s astonishing. Some doubted—and he still sends them out.
Being a disciple does not mean having it all figured out.
It doesn’t mean being polished and certain all the time.
It means sitting at the feet of Jesus.
Learning from him. Asking questions. Seeking understanding.
Faith and questions can coexist.
You don’t need to wait until you’ve resolved every theological problem before you serve, worship, or witness. You don’t need to wait until you feel “ready.” The model Jesus gives us is about being willing, not being perfect.
Longing or Fear? The Posture Behind the Question
I wonder what posture we bring to our own questions.
Some people, like Thomas, are asking from a place of longing. “Is it really true? Could this really be the same Jesus who died? Could this be real? Because if it is—I need to see him.”
Others ask from a place of fear. And that’s human too. But fear often pushes us toward self-protection. It drives us to stay in control. To keep our distance.
Fear can make us hide.
It can fill us with shame.
It can make us feel we have to perform.
It asks, “What if I take a risk and fail?”
“What if I’m not good enough?”
“What if they see my mistakes?”
Underneath these questions, often, are deeper longings.
Questions about truth are really fears of being deceived.
Questions about justice are deep cries for goodness and fairness.
Questions about suffering carry a cautious hope that faith might heal.
Questions about acceptance reveal our longing to belong.
So both types of questions—whether fuelled by curiosity or fear—are entirely human. And throughout the Bible, we see God meeting both.
Is the Resurrection Real?
If Thomas is asking to see Jesus’ wounds, it’s because he wants to know that resurrection includes suffering.
He doesn’t want a clean-slate miracle that erases pain.
He wants to see that what was broken is now healed.
That pain isn’t denied—it’s redeemed.
The scars are still there. And that’s part of the beauty of it.
Resurrection is not a show of distant power.
It is the Creator stepping into creation to heal, restore, and reconcile.
If Jesus has done that, then he really must be God.
Because it is the Creator who can restore what the Creator has made.
My Lord and My God
Thomas responds to Jesus with the fullest confession of faith in the entire Gospel:
“My Lord and my God.”
He doesn’t just say, “Teacher” or “Rabbi.” He sees the wounds, touches the scars, and recognises Jesus as God.
This isn’t a God who hides suffering.
This is a God who redeems it.
A God who enters locked rooms.
Who meets us in our questions.
Who doesn’t demand perfection, but offers peace.
Jesus doesn’t say, “Why didn’t you get it sooner?”
He says, “Peace be with you.”
If you are carrying questions today, you are welcome.
If you are carrying fear, you are welcome.
And Jesus offers you peace.
Resurrection in Real Life: The Quiet Revival
We sometimes think doubt disqualifies us. That God is only for those with certainty. But the story of Thomas shows that questions are not barriers—they are doorways to deeper faith.
And God is still moving.
A recent report by the Bible Society called The Quiet Revival notes a significant rise in church engagement—especially among younger people.
In 2018, 4% of 18–24-year-olds in England and Wales attended church monthly.
In 2025, that number is now 16%.
Overall, active churchgoing Christians have grown from 3.7 million to 5.8 million—a 56% increase.
Bible sales are up.
Interest in Christian community is rising.
And a third of non-churchgoing young adults say they’d go—if someone simply invited them.
The report ends like this:
“The tide of faith is coming in again. And the Church needs to adjust to this new and strangely hopeful reality.”
For me, this is a “hands and side” moment.
It’s real. It’s happening. God is on the move.
Blessing for the Gift of Doubt
As we draw to a close, I want to share a blessing by Kate Bowler from her book The Lives We Actually Have: Blessings for Imperfect Days.
Let this speak into our questions, our longing, and our worship:
Oh God, I long for understanding, but life is full of unanswered questions.
God, reveal to me what I need to know, and for all the rest, show me how to live with so much uncertainty.
Blessed are we who come to you in the discomfort of our doubt.
For we trust that our honest unknowing is a truer and better prayer than bootstrapping efforts at certainty.
Blessed are we, receiving the gift of doubt.
For we trust it is a doorway—freeing us to become that which we could not otherwise have known.
Blessed are we, remembering that you, God, hold all things together.
You are the invisible scaffolding that supports us,
A canopy of love that protects us in the present,
The stable pillars sunk deep into our past,
And the dove that flies confidently into the future,
Bearing for us the peace we could never attain on our own.
Blessed are we, settling into the truth that there are things we cannot know—
Settling into the humility that knows this one thing:
That we are of the earth.
And you are our God.
Final Prayer and Invitation
Let’s take a moment of stillness.
This is not theoretical. This is real life.
God wants to breathe peace over us—into the messy, mixed-up reality of who we are.
You might want to open your hands, simply as a sign: “God, fill me with your peace.”
Come, Holy Spirit.
Come and fill us with your peace.
Meet us in our questions.
Meet us in our fears.
Find your way into the locked parts of our hearts.
Not to condemn, but to heal and commission.
So that we may become disciples who make disciples—
Not with it all together,
But with your peace.
Amen.