Sermon by Rev. Cindy Maddox on January 26, 2014
John 1:35-46
Years ago I was leaving a store in the mall when I noticed a young boy speaking adamantly to his parents and older siblings. “I’m the leader!” he announced. “OK, everybody? I’m the leader!” He turned on his heel, marched out the door, then suddenly stopped and asked, “Where are we going?”
During my years in the corporate world, I knew a few people like that. In fact, in my first year as a manager 25 years ago, I may have been that person! Here I am, ready to lead! I just have no idea where we’re going!
If you’re leading—whether as a boss or the lead car in a caravan—it’s good to know where you’re going. As followers, not as much. If you’re following, you might want to know the destination, but you don’t need to know the details. At least not if you trust your leader.
The first two followers of Jesus wanted a little more information. Actually, technically, they were not yet “followers of Jesus.” They were just following him . . . literally. Our scripture lesson for today begins with John the Baptist standing with two of his disciples. Jesus walks by, and John exclaims, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” So John’s disciples start following Jesus. Jesus turns around and sees them following and asks them, “What are you looking for?”
That’s a strange question, if you think about it. If I were being followed by two people, I think I’d ask, “Why are you following me?” or “What do you want?” But no, Jesus asks, “What are you looking for?”
The disciples respond with proof that they have not thought this thing through, are not able to articulate even the slightest thought of why they are following. They just ask, “Where you staying?” One writer calls this “Truly a low point in disciple repartee.”[1]
On the other hand, maybe they weren’t asking about his lodging for the evening. Where are you staying didn’t mean sleeping—it meant remaining, abiding. They were asking: Where is home? Where is the center of your life? And will I be welcome there?
Jesus answer was simple: Come and see. Come and see what I consider home. Come and see who I consider family. Come and see what it means to follow me.
The next day Jesus meets Philip and says to him simply, “Follow me.” Philip immediately goes to his friend Nathanael and says to him, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.” Nathanael replies, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” After all, Nazareth was “an obscure and insignificant backwater with nothing to offer anyone, a place where dreams die instead of being nurtured. Nathanael is not interested in following just anyone claiming to have a new idea, least of all one from Nazareth. He is wise to imposters. . . . He doesn’t want to be set up for later disappointment.”[2]
Nathanael, in short, is a skeptic . . . which means primarily one thing to me: I like him! I can relate to him. Blind faith has always been a mystery to me, but skepticism I can understand.
Philip doesn’t argue with Nathanael. Perhaps he knows his friend well enough to know that arguing will get him nowhere. Instead, his response seems to echo the words Jesus spoke earlier. Philip says simply, “Come and see.”
We know, because we know the whole story, that Jesus will do great miracles. But this invitation was before any of that. This invitation was before water was turned to wine or the lame were made to walk. This was not a carnival barker calling “Come and see the show!” This was an invitation into relationship. Come and see.
I think those are three of the most powerful words in the entire Gospels, right up there with the other important three-word sentences, Jesus is Born and Christ is Risen.
Come and see. Maybe we should write those three words above the doors to the sanctuary: Come and see. Are you looking for a church where you might be welcomed as you are? Come and see. Are you looking for meaning, for purpose, for it all to make sense? Come and see. Do you wonder if religion has any relevance to your life today? Come and see. Come and see for yourself. We don’t have all the answers. In fact, we have lots of questions, ourselves. But we’ll add your questions to our questions and we’ll all “Come and see” together.
Maybe we should write those words on the front of our Bibles: Come and see. Come and see what others saw when they went looking for God. Come and see how others interpreted the events in their lives. They may have gotten it right, or they may have gotten it wrong, but come and see for yourself. Come and see if there might be a different way of reading scripture than you were taught. Come and see if you might discover grace instead of condemnation, if you might find direction for your life and rejuvenation for your work. Come and see.
Maybe we should write those words on the doors of our homes, inside and out, so that every time we come home and every time we leave we will remember the invitation. Come and see God at work in your own family. Or come and see God present with you in the quiet, empty rooms. Whether you are entering or leaving, come and see God in the faces you meet.
Maybe we should write those words on the dashboards of our cars, on our children’s bookbags, on our office desks or work stations or tucked in the pocket of our uniform. Come and see. Come and see what God might do. Come and see how God might use you if others simply know you are a person of faith.
Maybe we should write those words on the top of our church budget. Come and see the ministries you are supporting with your pledge. Come and see what a difference your money makes. But the church budget is not just about the church’s needs . . . because the church is not just another charity asking for donations. Giving to God is a spiritual practice, a spiritual discipline. It is something we do, not because we are generous, but because God is.
I recently heard of a UCC pastor in Massachusetts, Rev. Molly Baskette, who is challenging members of her congregation to give at least 5% of their income to the church. And here’s the kicker: She has promised them that, after the year is over, if they do not feel like they have received spiritual benefit from giving, they can ask for their money back. That’s right, a money back guarantee on their pledge! Now I realize that the entire budget committee and stewardship team just felt a wave of panic. Before we have to bring in oxygen tanks for their hyperventilating, I will say clearly: No, I am not offering a money-back guarantee on your pledge!
But Rev. Baskette is extending to her congregation an invitation, an invitation that I echo: Come and see. Come and see how a spirit of generosity will change you. Come and see how being financially invested in this church transforms your commitment to it. Come and see.
Come and see, Jesus said to the newcomers, and they followed—not with great faith and not even without fear. But the invitation was impossible to resist. Come and see, Philip said to Nathanael. And Nathanael took his questions and his doubts and his skepticism, and Jesus welcome him with all his questions and his doubts and his skepticism. In fact, Jesus rewarded Nathanael’s questions by revealing more about himself to Nathanael than he had to any of the previous disciples. Come and see what happens when you bring your skepticism to Christ. Come and see what happens when you’re not afraid of the questions. Come and see for yourself. And the invitation was impossible to resist.
A man I know tells a story about a different kind of invitation. He had just checked into a hotel on one of his many trips, and as he stepped into the elevator he saw a hand-written note: “Party tonight! Room 210, 8:00. Everyone invited!” He imagined Room 210 at 8:00 “filled with an odd assortment of people: traveling salesmen looking for relief from the tedium, tourists bored with sightseeing, wary hotel employees checking out what was going on. It turns out the notice was a hoax. [I’m guessing it was a joke played on some newlyweds!] Nevertheless, for a brief moment there existed the tantalizing possibility that there was a party going on somewhere to which all were invited, where it didn’t make any difference who you were, where even if you came out of boredom or loneliness, you were welcome . . . A party where it didn’t matter nearly as much what got us in the door, as what would happen to us after we arrived.”[3]
The invitation was a hoax, but the idea is authentic: a party to which everybody is invited, where there’s no dress code and no cover charge, and all are welcome and no one is turned away. If there is to be such a party, the church is going to have to throw it. Nobody else can. Nobody else will. It is up to us to extend the invitation . . . and to mean it.
Dr. King lamented that the church is often a weak, ineffectual voice with an uncertain sound. It doesn’t have to be that way. The sound can be strong and effective and sure: Come and see.
Come and see for yourself.
Come and see love.
Come and see God.
Come as you are.
Come and see who you can become.
Just come.