Like last week’s reading, our reading today begins with the words, “the next day.” We are now on the third day of the unfolding narrative we have been following through in John chapter 1.
On the first day, John the Baptist is questioned by the Pharisees. Three times they press him about his identity: Are you the Messiah? Are you Elijah? Are you the prophet? Each time, John answers clearly and emphatically: No. John goes to extraordinary lengths to ensure people understand first and foremost who he is not.
On the second day, John testifies to Jesus’ baptism — to the Spirit descending like a dove and remaining on him — and to the words he hears from God: “He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptises with the Holy Spirit.”
And then, on the third day, John encounters Jesus again, this time with two of his own disciples. When Jesus walks by, John points to him — and those disciples leave John and follow Jesus. John does not try to hold onto them. He does not compete for loyalty or influence. He is not interested in building his own kingdom; he is interested in Jesus’.
As we’ve been reflecting over the past two weeks, John begins his ministry from a place of deep humility, knowing who he is and what his role is, but also who he is not. He claims no identity that isn’t his. He makes no promises of comfort or ease. He simply points, again and again, to the one who is greater than himself.
That is John role. He testifies to Jesus, as he puts it, “I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed.”
And this, we have said, remains the role of the church — and of the people in it, which is us. I think this is especially important right now. We live in a time when Christianity is being co-opted by political or cultural movements — movements that are angry, inward-looking, and focused more on power and exclusion than on the expansive and generous love of God. Movements that point more to leaders than to Jesus.
In this context, the church is called — more than ever — to be a clear and faithful witness to the actual way of Jesus. Witnesses not only in our words, but in our lives: in how we treat one another, in how we love the world, and in how we tell the story of Jesus — his life, death, and resurrection — for us.
So John’s disciples follow Jesus. And when Jesus notices them, he turns and asks a question that echoes through every generation: “What are you looking for?”
When we come to Jesus, what are we really seeking? Are we looking for him — or for something else? Prosperity? Certainty? Safety? Are we like John, wanting seeking God’s Kingdom, or are we like those leaders who just want to use his name to help us build ours?
The disciples don’t answer directly. Instead, they ask their own question: “Where are you staying?” It’s more than a question about accommodation. They are asking what life with Jesus might actually look like.
Jesus responds with a simple invitation: “Come and see.” It seems that if we want to know what life with Jesus is like, we have to begin living life with Jesus. We often think it works the other way around — that we need certainty before commitment, understanding before practice. But here Jesus suggests the opposite.
So they go. And they see.
We’re not told exactly what they see, but whatever it is, it’s enough. Within hours, Andrew finds his brother Simon and declares, “We have found the Messiah.” Like John, Andrew becomes a witness.
Then we move to the fourth day, which we read about today. Jesus leaves the Jordan and heads to Galilee. Andrew and Peter are with him, and Jesus calls Philip — who immediately follows.
Now I am sure there is more to this story than just what John recalls here but Each year when we reflect on these early call stories, I’m struck by how quickly the disciples seem to leave everything behind. I’m not really like that. When I sense a call, I tend to think about it for a long time — pray about it, analyse it, question whether it’s truly God or just my own thoughts. Sometimes I get it right; sometimes I don’t. Often, clarity comes only in hindsight.
But Andrew, Peter, and Philip seem certain — and quickly so. Perhaps they are more faithful than I am. Or perhaps more impulsive. Or maybe — and I suspect this is closer to the truth — they had already done the work of waiting on God. They had immersed themselves in Scripture, prayer, traditions and practices like Sabbath, fasting and tithing. And so when God showed up, they were ready to give it all. They recognised Him and his voice.
This is what spiritual disciplines are for. They form us into people who can discern truth from counterfeit. And in a time when many are drawn into movements that claim the name of Jesus but reflect very little of his character, that discernment matters deeply.
Do we recognise Jesus when he shows up? Can we tell the difference between the way of Christ and something that merely borrows his name?
Like anything worth doing, discipleship takes practice, effort, and time. Depth, generosity, moral courage, and non-anxious presence don’t just appear. They are formed by doing them. And I believe the world — especially right now — is longing for people shaped in this way.
Not everyone responds immediately, though. Nathanael certainly doesn’t. Hardened by prejudice it seems, he rhetorically “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”
Prejudice based on where someone comes from is hardly a thing of the past. Even today, people from certain postcodes face barriers to education, employment, and opportunity.
Philip doesn’t argue with Nathanael. He doesn’t shame him, dismiss him, cancel him or enter into a debate with him. Perhaps he knows something of Nathanel’s story and why he might be saying this and that perhaps a strong response might create further division. He simply says, “Come and see.”
And perhaps because of Philip’s grace, Nathanael does.
When Jesus sees him, he says, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit.”
Like all of us Jesus had a choice about what he saw when he looked at Nathanael. He could have chosen to see and name his narrow mindedness, his carelessness, his cynicism his Instead, he chooses to see and name what is good — honesty, sincerity, a genuine seeking.
That doesn’t mean Jesus avoids challenge. When Nathanael asks how Jesus knows him, Jesus replies, “I saw you under the fig tree.”
Perhaps this is Jesus saying: I saw you. I heard you. I know what you were thinking about me — and yet I still welcome you.
Of course I cannot read their minds. Perhaps this is not what is going on at all in this rather strange conversation. But Whatever happens in that moment, Nathanael is deeply seen — and transformed by it.
Jesus shows us that grace and truth do not need to be separated. He offers both. And when we are truly known — named honestly and received with love — something beautiful, healing and holy happens.
So let us sing together now, Beautiful Things — a song that reminds us that Jesus continues to make beautiful things out of all of us, despite our sin and brokenness.
