Dock Resource Kit
Sunday sermon, 18 May 2025
This week Phil spoke to us about Breakfast on the Beach — that tender, post-resurrection moment in John 21 when Jesus meets his disciples in their exhaustion, cooks them breakfast, and gently restores Peter. We saw that resurrection life isn’t flashy, but deeply human: Jesus feeds them, finds them together, fills them with hope, and frees them through love. It’s a vision of what the Church is meant to be — a gathered, grace-filled community where Jesus still meets us, fills us, and sends us out.
Dock Discussion Questions
“Come and eat.”
Where have you recently experienced Jesus meeting you in an ordinary, physical, or unexpected way?“They were together.”
What does it look like for you to stick with community — even when you're tired, confused, or uncertain?“It is the Lord!”
Have you had a moment recently when you suddenly recognised that Jesus was present and at work? What helped you see it?“Do you love me?”
Where might Jesus be inviting you — gently and graciously — back into purpose, leadership, or relationship?
Long-form, editted transcript
Breakfast on the Beach
John 21:1-13
Introduction
It’s great to be here with you today.
We’re continuing our Easter season series, looking at the different resurrection appearances of Jesus — those encounters with the risen Christ that happen after Easter Sunday, when the world has changed but the disciples are still catching up.
And today, we’ve got a great one. Not because it’s the most dramatic. Not because it’s the most theological or explosive. But because it’s actually pretty ordinary. Very human. Simple and personal.
And because it involves one of my favourite things — breakfast.
It’s a scene of tired disciples and empty nets, a fire on the shore, and — in a slightly different, non-kosher version of the story — I’d like to think there might have been some bacon involved.
And there in the middle of it all, Jesus — quietly present, gently leading, and just being with his friends.
It’s breakfast on the beach. And it’s not just a sweet and simple postscript to the resurrection. I think it’s a vision of what life with Jesus looks like. What resurrection friendship really looks like.
And more than that — it’s a picture of what the church is meant to be.
So let’s hear it together now.
John 21:1–13
Afterward Jesus appeared again to his disciples, by the Sea of Galilee. It happened this way:
Simon Peter, Thomas (also known as Didymus), Nathanael from Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two other disciples were together.
“I’m going out to fish,” Simon Peter told them, and they said, “We’ll go with you.”
So they went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing.
Early in the morning, Jesus stood on the shore, but the disciples did not realise that it was Jesus.
He called out to them, “Friends, haven’t you any fish?”“No,” they answered.
He said, “Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some.”
When they did, they were unable to haul the net in because of the large number of fish.
Then the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!”
As soon as Simon Peter heard him say, “It is the Lord,” he wrapped his outer garment around him (for he had taken it off) and jumped into the water.The other disciples followed in the boat, towing the net full of fish, for they were not far from shore, about a hundred yards.
When they landed, they saw a fire of burning coals there with fish on it, and some bread.
Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish you have just caught.”So Simon Peter climbed back into the boat and dragged the net ashore. It was full of large fish, 153, but even with so many the net was not torn.
Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.”
None of the disciples dared ask him, “Who are you?” They knew it was the Lord.
Jesus came, took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish.
This was now the third time Jesus appeared to his disciples after he was raised from the dead.
There’s something beautiful about the simplicity of that moment, isn’t there? The risen Christ — who has just defeated death — is there cooking breakfast. No drama, no smoke and lightning, just a fire, some fish, some friends.
That’s the heart of where we’re going today. If you want to right something down, I’ve titled this message: Breakfast on the Beach — Resurrection Friendship
And there’s a phrase I’m going to come back to as we go. If it helps, hold onto it as a lens for the whole passage.
This is what church is meant to be.
1. He Feeds Them – A Shared Table
So, what’s going on here?
Well, my first point is the obvious one — Jesus feeds his friends. He feeds them.
Picture the scene for a moment. The disciples have seen the risen Jesus twice already by this point, but it’s still unclear what happens next. So Peter says, “I’m going out to fish,” and the others follow. Not because they’re full of faith, but because it’s familiar.
So here they are, out on the lake. It’s just before dawn. They’ve been fishing all night. Nothing. Not a single fish. I’m guessing the mood can’t have been great — weary, cold, probably hungry. This is what they do. They’re fishermen, right? But maybe, after an unsuccessful night, feeling a little hangry, they’re starting to wonder what exactly they’re doing with their lives at this point.
And then someone calls to them from the shore. And it’s Jesus. But they don’t recognise him straight away. Isn’t that interesting? So often, in the resurrection stories, people don’t immediately recognise Jesus. Mary thinks he’s the gardener. The disciples on the Emmaus road walk with him for miles. And here, they don’t click until the miracle happens and John says, “It is the Lord!”
But what I want to focus on — what I absolutely love — is what Jesus does next.
He doesn’t give them a motivational speech. He doesn’t say, “Right, come on boys, let’s talk about the Great Commission.”
He’s cooking breakfast. He’s got fish on the fire. He just says, “Come and eat.” Jesus meets them in their weariness and provides what they need. Not just spiritually — physically. A hot meal. Warmth. Presence.
Many of you will be aware that I’ve had a tough time physically over the past year — four operations on my leg, including two major emergency surgeries earlier this year. But one of the amazing things is that in the midst of the pain, the frustration, and the worry, I’ve experienced something remarkable.
Jesus hasn’t left me.
He’s cared for me — not just in a mysterious, distant way, but in a deeply present and personal way. And I’ve particularly felt his love through the Church. Through you.
Through your prayers, your texts, your kind questions — and especially through your food deliveries — even a few breakfasts!
Through your genuine care. Seriously, those of you who turned up at the hospital with Tupperware and various exceptional feasts — those moments felt holy. Like Jesus had been at work in the kitchen.
And that’s what we see here. All this is about Jesus meeting needs in the most basic, grounded way. There’s something sacramental about this meal with friends.
Jesus takes bread and fish. He gives it to them.
It echoes the miracle of the feeding of the five thousand.
It echoes the Last Supper.
And now here, after the resurrection, it’s breakfast on the beach.
A holy meal with friends.
This is what church is meant to be.
Not just a meeting. Not just a bunch of rotas. A shared table. A shared life. A place where we care for one another’s whole selves — soul, body, mind, heart.
And this is why we take hospitality so seriously at SPS.
It’s why we’re going to be eating together after this service, today.
Henri Nouwen, the Catholic theologian, once said, “Hospitality is not to change people, but to offer them space where change can take place.”
This moment also reminds us that resurrection life isn’t abstract. It’s not floating above reality.
It’s rooted in the body. In the ordinary. In daily bread. In John’s Gospel, the Word becomes flesh — and here, that flesh is grilling fish.
So what does this mean for us as a church?
It means we make space for each other’s hunger — whatever that looks like.
It means we gather around tables, not just stages.
It means we care enough to show up with food, with time, with listening ears.
It means food at Alpha matters.
Coffee after church matters.
Docks and small groups that cook together matter.
Because every shared table is a place where the resurrected Jesus Christ can show up and say, “Come and eat. Be fed.”
This is what church is meant to be.
2. He Finds Them Together – A Gathered Community
OK, so Jesus feeds them — and he also finds them. And he finds them together.
There’s a small detail tucked into the beginning of this passage that’s easy to skip past, but I think it’s really significant. John tells us who’s there: Simon Peter, Thomas, Nathanael, the sons of Zebedee, and two other disciples. And then he says — they were together.
Now that might sound like a throwaway line. But if you think about it.
These are the same disciples who, not long ago, had scattered in fear.
Who had locked themselves in an upper room.
Who had denied, doubted, despaired.
And yet, here they are — together.
They don’t fully know what to do next.
They’re not out planting churches yet.
They’re not preaching in the synagogues or healing people on the street.
They’re just… together. Going fishing.
And I find that really moving. Because so often, when people are confused or hurting, the temptation is to pull away. To isolate. To disappear. But that’s not what we se here.
Even in the uncertainty, even after all that’s happened — they’re with each other.
And Jesus finds them, together.
This is what church is meant to be.
Not perfect people who’ve got it all figured out. But people who stick with each other. People who stay in the boat. Who keep showing up — even when they’re not quite sure what comes next.
I’ve seen this again and again here at SPS — when someone’s struggling, someone else turns up. When someone’s grieving, others gather round. We may not always know what to say, but we stay close. We’re in this together, and that matters more than we often realise.
Already this morning, before this service two people have spoken to me about choosing to be here in the midst of a difficult week. But knowing that being together is so important.
And that’s not just for people who’ve been here for years. This is the kind of community we get to invite others into. Just this week I received a letter from someone in our community — someone who’s been through a long and painful season, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Life had worn them down, and they’d lost a lot of trust in people — and even a bit of faith in the world.
But they stumbled across one of our outdoor exercise classes and decided to give it a go. And it was the people who made the difference. One of the team messaged them with kindness and encouragement. Others welcomed them in, helped them feel at ease, remembered their name.
That sense of care — of being seen — opened a door.
From there, they made their way through the church doors.
Not with fanfare, not all at once. But gently. Week by week. Step by step.
And they wrote to say how much strength they’ve found here — how the welcome, the worship, and the kindness of this community have helped them reconnect, not just with others, but with God.
Their words were, “Your services have given me strength and restored a little of my faith in this mad world.”
That’s it, isn’t it?
That’s resurrection friendship.
That’s what happens when we keep showing up with each other, for each other.
We’re not called to just believe in Jesus, but to be held together by him.
Not just being found — but being found together.
And this is why we take community seriously at SPS.
It’s why we love to party. It’s why we’re going to gathering again after this service for our APCM — our Big Family Meeting. Not because everyone loves a meeting, but because we’re choosing to stay in the boat. To keep rowing together. Doing family business — together.
Church isn’t just about what happens from the front. It’s about the consistent and often quiet courage of sticking with one another. And in that faithfulness — in the just-showing-up-ness of community — Jesus draws near. He finds us.
He doesn’t just find you or me — he finds us.
This is what church is meant to be.
3. He Fills Them – Jesus in the Midst
Let’s go back to that moment on the lake.
The disciples have been out all night and caught nothing. Then someone — they don’t know who yet — calls out from the shore: “Throw your net on the right side of the boat.”
Now, to be fair, this isn’t the first time Jesus has pulled this miracle. But even so — without recognising the shouty guy on the beach — you can imagine their skepticism. These are experienced fishermen. They’ve been at it for hours. As we’ve said, they’re probably exhausted, grumpy, wondering who this stranger thinks he is. But they try it.
And suddenly — abundance. The net is so full they struggle to even haul it in. And it’s in that moment that John turns to Peter and says, “It is the Lord.” Not because he saw his face clearly. Not because Jesus announced himself with trumpets or started to glow. But because of the provision. Because of the presence. Because something in John recognised the miracle.
Jesus was already there — before they knew it.
Before they understood it.
He fills their net.
He fills their hands.
He fills their hearts again with hope.
He feeds them.
He finds them together.
And he fills them.
This is what church is meant to be.
A place where Jesus shows up — often before we realise it.
A place where grace breaks in unexpectedly.
Where our nets get filled in ways we couldn’t have imagined —
and in that moment of recognition, we respond, “It’s the Lord.”
And that response — that turning of our attention and our affection to him — that’s worship. But worship isn’t just a response. It also becomes the place where we learn to recognise him more quickly next time.
There’s an old latin phrase from the church of history: lex or-andi, lex cred-endi — what we pray shapes what we believe.
In other words, worship doesn’t just express our faith — it forms it.
It teaches us what to look for.
It teaches us how to listen.
It deepens our awareness that Jesus is present, even when we’re not yet aware of it.
That’s why we take worship seriously at SPS.
Because it’s often in worship that we wake up again to the truth — he’s already here.
Not because we’ve conjured him up, but because we’ve slowed down long enough to notice him.
And I’m not just talking about the music on a Sunday — which is often powerful and deeply moving — but about the kind of worship that flows out of this space and into the rest of the week.
The worship of holding onto a lyric that speaks truth over your Monday.
The worship of a quiet prayer whispered on the way to work.
The worship of being present to God in a conversation you weren’t expecting.
The worship of choosing patience, or beauty, or compassion when it would be easier not to.
These are moments when Jesus fills us.
When grace surprises us.
When we realise — he’s here — he always was.
That’s what’s going on in John 21.
The disciples are being re-formed and re-focused on Jesus.
They’re learning again that Jesus is generous.
That he meets us in our emptiness.
That his abundance doesn’t depend on our performance.
That his presence is real, even when we don’t recognise it straight away.
So what does this mean for us?
It means, be encouraged — Jesus is already at work in your life.
And in our church. Even if we haven’t yet recognised him.
It means that in our ordinary worship, in our small prayers, even in our Monday morning doubts — Jesus is near.
It means we don’t need to create the miracle — we just need to stay open to it. And when the nets fill — whether that’s new faith, new faces, fresh courage, or unexpected joy — we can turn, we can worship, and we can say, “It is the Lord.”
This is what church is meant to be.
4. He Frees Them – Love That Restores
Now, there’s something we all know about Peter. He’s the brash, bold, impetuous one. The first to speak up. The first to step out of the boat. The first to say, “I’ll never leave you, Jesus.”
But he’s also the one who denied him. Three times. In the courtyard. When it mattered most. And that failure would still be hanging in the air here. Even as he jumps into the water and runs toward Jesus, I wonder what was going through Peter’s mind. That question — what will he say to me?
Because that’s the thing about shame.
It makes us doubt love.
It makes us hesitate.
It whispers that we’ve blown it. That we’re disqualified. That maybe we were never really cut out for this in the first place.
But what does Jesus do? He doesn’t call him out.
He doesn’t say, “We need to talk.”
He doesn’t test his loyalty or go over the past.
He says, “Come and have breakfast.”
He invites him to the fire.
He feeds him. He includes him.
He restores him — not yet with words, but with presence. Grace in action.
That deeper conversation — the famous “do you love me” moment — comes just after this. But the healing starts here. With food. With warmth. With welcome.
And I think this is the moment Peter realises — Jesus hasn’t given up on me.
I’m still his. I’m still called. I’m still wanted.
This is what church is meant to be.
Not a place where people are written off.
Not a place where failure is final.
But a place of restoration. A place of grace.
A place where love quietly sets people free.
I know so many stories of people — here in our own community and in church communities like ours — who found themselves alone, stopped coming because they felt like they’d let God down. Let others down. Maybe something happened they didn’t know how to talk about. Maybe they were carrying shame, or disappointment, or regret.
But then one Sunday, they walk back through the doors — and it’s not the sermon or the music that makes the difference. It’s just the way someone greets them. A simple smile. A hug. Someone saying, “It’s so good to see you.” And grabbing them a coffee.
And that becomes the beginning of healing.
Because that’s all it takes sometimes — an invitation, a fire, a meal, a welcome.
Someone recognising you. Someone drawing you back in.
That’s what Jesus does for Peter.
And that’s what he still does for us — again and again.
So what does this mean for us?
It means that our shared leadership begins and ends in grace.
It means none of us need a spotless track record to be part of what God is doing.
It means today’s APCM — our Big Family Meeting — isn’t just a moment to look at budgets and rotas. It’s a chance to say again, I’m in. To come back to the fire.
To receive again. To lead again. To love again.
Because even if we’ve messed up — and we all have — Jesus is still calling.
Still feeding us.
Still finding us together.
Still filling us.
Still freeing us.
This is what church is meant to be.
Conclusion
So here we are — breakfast on the beach.
Jesus feeds them.
Jesus finds them, together.
Jesus fills them.
And Jesus frees them.
That’s what resurrection friendship looks like.
And that’s what church is meant to be.
A table where people are fed.
A community that sticks together.
A people open to the presence of Jesus — in worship, in silence, in the week ahead.
And a place of restoration, where grace runs deeper than shame.
This isn’t just a lovely story from the end of John’s Gospel — it’s a vision for us.
We want to be that kind of church.
Not polished, not perfect, but simple centred on — and reflecting — Jesus.
A ‘breakfast on the beach’ kind of church, where people can bring their hunger, their weariness, their questions — and be met with kindness.
A church where grace is real.
Where the fire is warm.
Where the invitation still stands: Come and eat.
So as we move into our Big Family Meeting after this service, let’s carry that picture with us.
Let’s pray.
Jesus, thank you that you are here — now.
Help us to recognise you in our midst.
Thank you that you are still feeding us.
Still finding us, gathered together.
Still filling us with your Spirit.
Still freeing us, restoring us, and sending us out.
To be the church you have called us to be.
Amen.