You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet!

The Gospel of John opens with words that send our minds and imaginations soaring: "In the beginning was the Word. And the Word was with God. And the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God" (1 John 1:1-2). We are given access into the inner life of God - the unique and eternal relationship between the Father and the Son. This inner relationship within God defies imagining. We cannot possibly picture it. We cannot "see" it.

But God has done something about this. God has given us Jesus: "And the Word became flesh and dwelt (lit. tabernacled) among us" (John 1:14a). The incarnation makes it possible for us to "see" God. "No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father's heart, who has made him known." (John 1:18).

Jesus reveals the glory of God. Grace and truth are realized - embodied - in Jesus (John 1:17). They are embodied in such a way that the witness of the apostles is this: "We have seen his glory, glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth" (John 1:14b).

The ability to "see" God's glory in Christ is central to John's story. It is the basis for the invitation - an invitation that is at the heart of Christian witness - "Come and see!" It is this witness that sparks a chain reaction that results in the calling of Jesus' disciples.

Chain Reaction

John the Baptist begins the chain reaction of bearing witness to Jesus by calling his disciples to "see." As Jesus is passing by John declares, "Behold, the Lamb of God!" (John 1:36). In other words, he says, "Look! See! There he is!" Whether John expected it or not, his two unnamed followers (who we will soon discover are Andrew and most likely John, the author of this gospel) immediately respond to John's proclamation by following Jesus.

As they turn to Jesus, Jesus speaks his first words in John's Gospel in the form of a question: "What are you looking for?" (John 1:38). Jesus does not begin their relationship with deep theological statements or abstract dogmatic pronouncements. Instead Jesus wants to know what it is they are seeking. He is interested in knowing their heart's deepest desire.

Jesus assumes that we are all seekers. He assumes that we all seek something, whether that something is meaning, happiness, truth, or love. Jesus knows that our desires hold great power. They define the shape of our lives. They guide us in our journey. Jesus asks us today: What is it that you seek? What are you looking for? What is your heart's deepest desire?

We would not get so nervous about Christian witness if we recognized that our Lord's way of evangelizing does not begin with deep philosophical statements or abstract dogmatic pronouncements. Instead, it begins with a simple question: What are you looking for?

Andrew and John do not give an answer to Jesus' question. Instead, they answer his question with their own question: "Rabbi, where are you staying?" (John 1:38). Jesus responds by inviting them to share his "home." They accept Jesus' simple invitation and the text states that they "came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day" (John 1:39).

It is interesting to note that Jesus had no permanent home during his pilgrimage on earth. The witness of the gospels is that "the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head" (Matthew 8:20; Luke 9:58). Though he possessed no permanent home, Jesus did have a home. His one true "home" was heaven. For Jesus, home is where the heart is, and throughout his time on earth, he dwelt continually in unbroken union with his heavenly Father. Though Jesus invites them to share his "home" his real allusion is to his heavenly home. As John will develop later in his gospel, Jesus' call is that his disciples would "abide" with him as he "abides" in God (John 6:56, 15:4-10). They will do this by "abiding" in the Spirit (John 14:17).

Therefore, when Jesus bids his disciples to "come and see" he is bidding them to do something more than discover where he is staying for the night: "He is inviting them to come and gain from Him an insight into the mind and purpose of God Himself."[1] Discipleship is no less than accepting Jesus' invitation to follow him. Even more intimately, it is learning to abide with Jesus.

"They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day" (John 1:39). Having spent time with Jesus, Andrew and John feel compelled to share their experience. The chain reaction continues.

Andrew finds his brother Simon and tells him that he has found the Messiah. He then brings Simon to Jesus. Upon seeing Simon - a man whose impulsive passion causes him to be a loose cannon at times - Jesus renames him: "You are Simon. You are to be called Cephas" (which is translated Peter - the rock) (John 1:42). Simon's inherent loyalty, enthusiasm, and impulsiveness will one day be honed and refined because of the time he spends with Jesus. He will, through his relationship with Jesus, become "the rock" - a man of granite.

Jesus then finds Philip and abruptly says, "Follow me" (John 1:43). The chain reaction begins anew. Philip finds Nathanael and witnesses of Jesus, "We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth" (John 1:45).

Nathanael no doubt welcomes the news, but halts when Jesus is identified as being from Nazareth. At that point, his prejudice takes over: "Can anything good come from Nazareth?" (John 1:46).[2] Nazareth is a rival village a short distance up the hill. His response probably reflects a local proverb that expressed the hostility between his town and Nazareth.

Even though Philip is convinced that Jesus fulfills the promises of scripture, he does not argue with Nathanael. Philip makes no defense. He does not attempt to correct Nathanael's prejudice. Instead, he offers a simple invitation which echoes Jesus' previous invitation to Andrew and John: "Come and see!" (John 1:46, 39).

Nathanael remains unconvinced of Jesus' authenticity, yet he reluctantly comes at his brother's bidding. But Nathanael's tune is about to change.

As Philip and Nathanael approach, Jesus sees him from afar and greets him as if he knows him well: "Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!" (John 1:47).

Nathanael responds in amazement: "Where did you come to know me?" (John 1:48). In other words, "How do you know me? Where did you get your information about me?" Jesus is most likely alluding to something known only to Nathanael. Jesus reveals that even though he is a simple man from Nazareth - the nowheresville town of bad reputation - he possesses supernatural insight that could only come from God. Perhaps Jesus' comment about seeing Nathanael "under the fig tree" refers to accurate knowledge of his whereabouts. Or perhaps it refers to the place where Nathanael had received some private spiritual impression. Regardless, Nathanael's response reveals that Jesus knew more about him than humanly possible. (The same experience may be alluded to in Jesus' meeting with Simon in John 1:42. Jesus simply looks at him and says his name and speaks a word about his future.)

Nathanael is so overwhelmed by Jesus' revelation that he cries out in amazement: "Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!" (John 1:49).

Interestingly, Jesus seems just as surprised and amused at Nathanael's change of tune. It is then that Jesus says, "Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than these" (John 1:50). With these words, Jesus reveals that his privileged knowledge of Nathanael is a relatively minor miracle - simply a sign of greater things to come. In the future, Nathanael would be confronted with much more wonderful and conclusive signs of Jesus' true identity. And these "greater things" would provide opportunity for deeper dimensions of faith.

Chapter one concludes with Jesus' description of the climactic sign of his authenticity: "Very truly [lit. Amen, Amen], I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man."[3] He alludes to the story of Israel's great patriarch, Jacob. On the run for his life from his brother, Esau, whom he had cheated out of his birthright and blessing, Jacob saw a vision of a ladder (or more likely, a stairway or ziggurat) reaching from heaven to earth. It was there that God promised his fidelity to Jacob. This marked the beginning of Jacob's spiritual transformation into a man of faith.

What Jacob saw in a vision is now a reality in Jesus. Jesus is the ladder by which the gulf between earth and heaven is bridged. In him the glory of heaven has come to earth and been made visible. Jesus is the locus of divine glory - the one who connects heaven and earth. The Jews understood the tabernacle and temple to be the intersection of heaven on earth - the place of God's presence, the link between heaven and earth. Now Jesus fulfills this role.

Extraordinary experiences await the disciples, "but the most important is that the disciples will witness the intimate relationship between Jesus in this world and the divine realm far beyond this world (1:51)."[4] This is the basis for the apostolic pronouncement: "We have seen his glory!" This saying, then, functions as a climax to chapter one. The ultimate outcome of the calling of the various disciples is that they will see Jesus' glory, above all the glory of his resurrection.

Jesus makes it possible to "see" the divine glory. His followers now begin a journey in which this glory will become more evident. The same Jesus who said, "Come and see" now says, "There's more where that came from! You ain't seen nothing yet!"

Don't Break the Chain

The good news of Jesus Christ moves forward through the chain reaction of witnesses who have accepted Jesus' invitation to "Come and see." One sees, and then tells another, and that person tells another, and so on. In this story, three different witnesses - John the Baptizer, Andrew, and Philip - tell others about Jesus. We ourselves are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses - a chain reaction of people telling other people. The reason we are here today is because of the witness of others, beginning with the witness of the apostles.

The point is clear: It is through human witness that others are led to recognize Jesus as the Christ. The invitation to "Come and see" is at the heart of Christian evangelism.

Faith is not argued or proved - it is proclaimed, lived, and shared. God's grace is freely given to us that we might share it with others. We must never forget that grace is mediated through the faithful witness and lives of ordinary people - not people who are theologians, professional pastors, or persuasive debaters. No, God's grace is mediated through ordinary people like you and me who have encountered the glory of God in the face of Christ.

It is not through surveys, questionnaires, salesmanship, or gimmicks that numbers are added to the church. Neither are better parking, bigger buildings, greater music, and captivating speakers the key to church growth. It is not arguments, bargaining, or persuasive tactics that win people to Christ. We cannot argue people into the kingdom. All that is needed is a listening heart - people who are willing to ask, "What are you seeking?" - and one simple plea: "Come and see!" Church growth is always intimate and personal - an invitation by ordinary people to participate in something extraordinary. The essence of our witness is to state what we have seen and believe and then to invite others to come and see.

But more is needed from us than an invitation. We must have something worth seeing. And we can only do this if we ourselves have found our heart's deepest desire in Jesus. That is, if we ourselves follow Christ as his disciples, learning to abide in him. The challenge we have to face is this: Are our lives ordered in such a way that we are willing to say to the doubters and the cynics: "Come and see"? Are we willing to create a grace place in which God's presence can be realized? If so, then we must commit to begin

in a small way, at one single place in the world. There must be a place, visible, tangible, where the salvation of the world can begin: that is, where the world becomes what it is supposed to be according to God's plan. Beginning at that place, the new thing can spread abroad, but not through persuasion, not through indoctrination, not through violence. Everyone must have the opportunity to come and see. All must have the chance to behold and test this new thing. Then, if they want to, they can allow themselves to be drawn into the history of salvation that God is creating. Only in that way can their freedom be preserved. What drives them to the new thing cannot be force, not even moral pressure, but only the fascination of a world that is changed.[5]

Thomas Currie reminds us:

What the church has to offer the world is not its knowledge, not even its salvation. The church has never saved anyone, a point our Reformed parents knew well and one that made them skeptical of serving up salvation to the culture as if it were a commodity. No, what the church has to offer the world is the only gift it has ever received: Jesus Christ.[6]

Our invitation is simple, gracious, and open to all that are willing. Philip Gulley and James Mulholland provide an excellent illustration of what this may look like in a local congregation:

Gracious religion never shuns. It offers as much time and space as necessary. It refuses to be shocked by our doubts and questions or scandalized by our resistance. Years ago, a woman in my congregation passed away. Her husband, a once sporadic attendee, began attending worship more frequently. He would often stand during the Quaker silence and preface his remarks by saying, "Now, you should know I don't believe in God anymore, but. . ." and then proceed to share some insight or experience.

When this first happened, I wasn't sure how the congregation would respond. Earlier in my ministry, I would have cringed, then made it my goal to restore him to faith. Instead, I watched the congregation, who seemed at ease with his admission, continue to care for him in his grief.

One day, after worship, I asked him why he continued to attend church if he no longer believed in God. I wasn't trying to be argumentative. I was more curious than anything. He replied, "Because when I leave here, I feel better than when I arrived. These people love me."

Over the next several years, as he continued to share his misgivings, I never heard anyone in the congregation criticize or berate him for his atheism. Indeed, one of the saints of the church would often reply, "I can understand how you would feel that way."

Slowly, over a period of three years, his faith reemerged. Not because any of us demanded it, but because time was allowed for the leavening effect of grace. Had we insisted on a premature and dramatic return to faith, I believe he would have been lost to us and further estranged from God.[7]

Our witness is simple: "Come and see." Our great challenge is to live as disciples and create a place that is worth seeing - a place where heaven and earth intersect.

We live in a day when church leaders are panicking. Many fear that religion is on a perpetual downward spiral. Radical solutions are sought but most are little more than cosmetic fixes - superficial changes that are more faddish than faithful. But what we really need is nothing new. We simply need to live as disciples and create a community of love, grace, and acceptance - a community that witnesses of Christ: "By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another" (John 13:35).

People are skeptical about the church. Like Nathanael, they hold prejudices that prevent them from attending. Nathanael was skeptical at the start. His initial attitude toward Jesus was based on his preconceptions and contempt for Nazareth. However, his actual experience of Jesus changed his mind. But this could not have happened if Philip had not invited him to "Come and see!"

In some cases, people have been blinded by their preconceptions about the church, just as Nathanael was blinded by his preconceptions about Nazareth. What they have heard or seen about the church - from a distance - convinces them that the church is a bad thing. Sometimes these preconceptions are unfair. People prejudge the church without actually getting to know it. But the church must also ask itself whether it has failed to offer people reasons why they should "come and see." Does the church thoughtfully offer people a coherent vision for life? Or does it offer a mixture of entertainment, pop psychology, and superficial spirituality that satisfies in the short term but leaves people empty, when the difficult questions and problems of life arise? If we are convinced that Christian faith holds the truth about human life, then we must, in all earnestness, show people how that truth makes sense and is embodied in our own lives, both as individuals and as communities.[8]

Who knows what people may experience when we invite them to "Come and see"? They may, like Nathanael, experience the surprise of unexpected discovery and lose their former prejudices.

Conclusion

Unbelief is not removed through arguments or manipulative sales tactics, but through invitation - and having something worth seeing! Kent Ira Groff summarizes this well: "If the church doesn't reach out to the community, people won't come. But if people come into our churches and don't sense the presence of God, they're not going to return."[9]

Perhaps we would have more boldness to invite others if we realized that, no matter how long we've walked with Jesus, there always remains more to be seen - greater revelations on the horizon and greater possibilities for growth. Perhaps our challenge is not simply that we invite others to "Come and see" or even create an environment that is "worth seeing," but, more importantly, that we personally hold onto the hope that "We ain't seen nothing yet!"

---

© Richard J. Vincent, 2009