The Road We Walk When Our Hopes Have Been Deeply Disappointed
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The Road We Walk When Our Hopes Have Been Deeply Disappointed
Herb Montgomery | April 17, 2026
If you’d like to listen to this week’s article in podcast version click on the image below:
Our reading this week is from the gospel of Luke.
Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. And he said to them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” They stood still, looking sad. Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?” He asked them, “What things?” They replied, “The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him.” Then he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.
As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” So he went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. They said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. They were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread. (Luke 24:13-35)
Our story this week is the walk to Emmaus found in in Luke 24:13–35. At its core, this is a story about disorientation, companionship, and the slow, often unrecognized emergence of hope. Two disciples leave Jerusalem in the aftermath of Jesus’ state execution, carrying with them shattered expectations of being part of movement for change that the empire has, once again, crushed. “We had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.” Their words echo the grief familiar to anyone engaged in justice work today who has faced disappointing outcomes for their movement and labor: moments when movements falter, when violence prevails, when the arc of history itself seems to bend away from justice rather than toward it.
This passage speaks powerfully into my own lived experience in justice work because it refuses to deny despair. The disciples are not portrayed as faithless for their sorrow; they are honest. They had hoped for a different outcome, and instead they witnessed state violence, public execution, and the silencing of Jesus’ prophetic voice. In this way, the road to Emmaus begins not with triumph but with trauma. For modern justice movements confronting racism, economic inequality, gender unfairness, environmental collapse, LGBTQ exclusion, or other forms of systemic harm, our story mirrors the emotional landscape we often find ourselves inhabiting. Hope can sometimes be naive. Either way, hope also involves risk, and in moments where things don’t turn out the way we hoped, hope is something we can lose. We might even find ourselves feeling foolish.
It is precisely in this moment in our story, a moment of deep disillusionment, that the risen Jesus appears, though unrecognized. This detail is crucial. The presence of Jesus is not immediately obvious, nor does he come wrapped in spectacle or power. Instead, he comes alongside the disciples in the form of a stranger who listens and asks questions: “What are you discussing?” It’s a reminder that renewed hope begins with camaraderie. Recovering from such moments of disappointment begins with walking alongside others, hearing their stories, and honoring their grief.
In my own journey, I have too often given into the temptation to rush toward solutions, to fix, to speak, to act decisively. I agree that action is essential. Yet, this part of the Emmaus story suggests that listening is itself a form of sacred work. The stranger does not interrupt the disciples’ lament; he invites it. He creates space for them to articulate their pain and confusion. This models a form of solidarity rooted not in saviorism but in presence.
As the journey continues, the stranger begins to reinterpret their story, framing their experience within a larger narrative. He speaks of suffering not as defeat but as part of a broader movement toward liberation. I believe this reframing is vital. Systems of oppression often seek to define setbacks as final, to convince communities that resistance is futile. The Emmaus story resists that narrative. It insists that what appears to be the end may, in fact, be a hidden beginning. Jesus is about to show us the narrative meaning of resurrection: change is always forged through struggle and setbacks. The disciples are about to discover that, even in our most disappointing moments, injustice is neither permanent nor inevitable. Love and justice hold a power that cannot be buried.
Still, that recognition does not come on the road. It comes at the table.
When the disciples invite this stranger to stay with them, they enact a practice of hospitality. Their world is structured by exclusion and hierarchy, and so the simple act of welcoming the other becomes a site of transformation. It is in the breaking of bread, a shared, communal act that held great meaning for early Jesus followers, that their eyes are opened. They recognize the presence of the One who had been with them all along. He had been with them all along.
This moment carries some other profound implications, too. Liberation is not only something we strive toward. It is something we practice as we strive, through acts of inclusion, mutual care, and shared humanity. Our daily life choices harmonize with our overall vision for what we desire our world to be. The shared table in this week’s story becomes a symbol of the kind of world that movements seek to build, a world where resources are shared, where strangers become companions, and where ours and others’ humanity is affirmed.
It is here that recognition dawns. Recognition, in our story, happens in the context of these smaller, more communal actions not larger public ones. The disciples come to their awakening together. Justice movements, likewise, are also interpersonal endeavors. They depend on relationships, on shared community with others and with shared vision. The Emmaus story reminds us that clarity often emerges not in solitude but in the midst of communal life alongside others.
When recognition does finally dawn, the disciples recall, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road?” This language of a “burning heart” points to an awakening that is both emotional and embodied. Our work, too, is sustained by a deep, often visceral conviction that another world is possible. And this conviction many times will be renewed in the wake of deep disappointment. This renewal, even after we thought we had lost, is what keeps movements alive in the face of exhaustion and opposition for generations.
After they recognize Jesus, the disciples immediately return to Jerusalem. This is another important detail. Jerusalem is the place they had just left, the place of danger and repression, where their loss just took place. Yet their encounter with Jesus on the road transforms their original trajectory. They move back toward the center of struggle, not away from it. Hope does not lead them to escape the world’s pain but to re-engage it with renewed purpose.
For me, when I think of justice work today, this moment in the story deeply resonates. Encounters that rekindle hope, whether through relational community or private reflection, do not lead us away from our work; they send us back into it. They empower us to take it up again. The goal is not to find a safe distance from injustice but to return with a deeper sense of possibility and resilience.
The Emmaus story also challenges dominant notions of power. The risen Jesus is not revealed through domination or force but through vulnerability, relationship, and shared humanity. This stands in stark contrast to the systems of oppression that justice movements seek to dismantle today. These systems rely on coercion, exclusion, and control. The way of Jesus on the road to Emmaus reminds us that true transformation emerges not from replicating the patterns and methods we are trying to change, but from embodying alternative forms of influence rooted in love, solidarity, and walking alongside others on the way.
Finally, the story underscores the importance of storytelling itself. The early Jesus followers’ journey was shaped by the stories they tell: first a story of defeat, then a story of hope. Justice movements today are similarly narrative-driven. They challenge dominant stories that justify inequality by offering alternative narratives that envision a world shaped by liberation and justice, a world that is a safe home for everyone. The work of justice, in many ways, begins with the work of reimagining what our world could be and inviting others into that imagining.
What I love about our story this week is that the walk to Emmaus does not erase deep disappointment, glossing over it with easy, pat, or trite answers. Instead, it provides a framework for navigating the complexities of justice work in our midnight hours. In moments when things don’t turn out the way we had hoped, we can acknowledge our grief, we can practice presence with one another. We can lean into our community. It is here that hope is often renewed, new visions are born, hope reawakens, and we return to the struggle with a new understanding of what we have just encountered. Our story reminds us that even when hopes are dashed and the path forward is unclear, we are not alone, and, sometimes, the very act of walking together is where transformation begins.
Discussion Group Questions
1. Share something that spoke to you from this week’s podcast episode with your discussion group.
2. Share an experience (if you’re comfortable doing so) with your group of when you had your hope rekindled after a disappointing outcome.
3. What can you do this week, big or small, to continue setting in motion the work of shaping our world into a safe, compassionate, just home for everyone?
Thanks for checking in with us, today.
I want to say a special thank you to all of our supporters out there. And if you would like to join them in supporting Renewed Heart Ministries’ work you can do so by going to renewedheartministries.com and clicking donate.
My latest book Finding Jesus: A Fundamentalist Preacher Discovers the Socio-Political and Economic Teachings of the Gospels is available now on Amazon in paperback, Kindle and also on Audible in audio book format.
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Right where you are, keep living in love, choosing compassion, taking action, and working toward justice.
I love each of you dearly,
I’ll see you next week.
New Episode of The Social Jesus Podcast
A podcast where we talk about the intersection of faith and social justice and what a first century, prophet of the poor from Galilee might have to offer us today in our work of love, compassion and justice.
This week:
Season 3 Episode 17: The Road We Walk When Our Hopes Have Been Deeply Disappointed
Luke 24:13-35
Our story this week speaks powerfully into our own lived experiences in justice work because it refuses to deny despair. The disciples are not portrayed as faithless for their sorrow; they are honest. They had hoped for a different outcome, and instead they witnessed state violence, public execution, and the silencing of Jesus’ prophetic voice. In this way, the road to Emmaus begins not with triumph but with trauma. For modern justice movements confronting racism, economic inequality, gender unfairness, environmental collapse, LGBTQ exclusion, or other forms of systemic harm, our story mirrors the emotional landscape we often find ourselves inhabiting. Hope can sometimes be naive. Either way, hope also involves risk, and in moments where things don’t turn out the way we hoped, hope is something we can lose. We might even find ourselves feeling foolish. This week Emmaus does not erase deep disappointment, glossing over it with easy, pat, or trite answers. Instead, it provides a framework for navigating the complexities of justice work in our midnight hours. In moments when things don’t turn out the way we had hoped, we can acknowledge our grief, we can practice presence with one another. We can lean into our community. It is here that hope is often renewed, new visions are born, hope reawakens, and we return to the struggle with a new understanding of what we have just encountered. This story reminds us that even when hopes are dashed and the path forward is unclear, we are not alone, and, sometimes, the very act of walking together is where transformation begins.
Available on all major podcast carriers and at:
Finding Jesus: A Fundamentalist Preacher Discovers the Socio-Political & Economic Teachings of the Gospels.
by Herb Montgomery
Available now on Amazon!
In Finding Jesus, author Herb Montgomery delves into the profound and often overlooked political dimensions of the gospels. Through meticulous analysis of biblical texts, historical context, and social discourse, this thought-provoking book unveils the gospels’ socio-political, economic teachings as rooted in a profound concern for justice, compassion, and the well-being of the marginalized. The book navigates the intersections between faith and societal justice, presenting a compelling argument for a more socially engaged and transformative Christianity.
Finding Jesus is not just a scholarly exploration; it is a call to action. It challenges readers to reevaluate their understanding of Christianity’s role in public life and to consider how the radical teachings of the gospels can inspire a renewed commitment to justice, equality, and compassion. This book is a must-read for those seeking a deeper understanding of the social implications of Christian faith and a blueprint for building a more just and inclusive society.
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