Come and See
January 9, 2011
John 1:29-41; Romans 12
So, have you heard the story of the 10-year-old girl in Canada who helped discover a supernova and it’s now named after her? Apparently, after about 10 minutes worth of work, she found something no one else had ever seen, even though it’s been out there for tens of millions of years. Star gazers and astronomers often spend thousands of hours searching the night sky, and most never make the kind of discovery this little girl made in less time than the average 10-year-old will spend avoiding taking a shower.
Sometimes it just works out that way. An epiphany of a lifetime happens in a flash – a flash of inspiration, perhaps, a flash of recognition, a flash of dumb luck.
Take the opening story from John’s gospel. What did John the Baptist see in Jesus that, apparently, no one had seen before, even though Jesus was roughly 30 years old? What did the first disciples see in him that they were willing to leave their lives behind and “come and see”? What did Jesus see in them? What were any of them looking for when they found each other?
Was it a flash of inspiration? Was it some inspired kind of recognition? Was it plain old dumb luck?
What were they looking for? What brought them together?
Well, let’s pause right there for a moment, and test our own experiences. What are you looking for that brought you here? To this place at this moment?
Let me tell you why I am here. I am here, at this moment, in this place, because I heard this voice, calling in the night, saying simply:
Will you come and follow me,
If I but call your name?
Will you go where you don't know
And never be the same?
Will you let my love be shown,
will you let my name be known,
will you let my life be grown
in you and you in me?
Those are, of course, John Bell’s* words, but I think they capture well the essence of Jesus’ invitation to the disciples: “come and see.”
The same invitation resounds for us today. It is an invitation to live our lives differently than we would otherwise, to live them differently than we would absent this summons, this invitation. It is an invitation that Paul heard on the road to Damascus when he was invited to live differently. It is an invitation he repeated to the young church in our passage from Romans:
“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God – what is good and acceptable and perfect.”
When Jesus says, “come and see,” he invites those who hear to follow him on a journey of transformation that involves renewal, over and over and over again, as we leave our old selves behind to live into lives that are closer to what God has in mind for us.
Will you leave your self behind
if I but call your name?
Will you care for cruel and kind
and never be the same?
Will you risk the hostile stare
should your life attract or scare,
will you let me answer prayer
in you and you in me?
Risking the hostile stare … have you ever felt that way about your faith? Have you ever found it difficult to “come out,” as it were, as a Christian, as a follower of Jesus?
I certainly have felt that way. I have heard the words of condemnation from those who do not understand that the Creator’s love is not limited by the creature’s sexual orientation – and from those who do not believe that any Christian could speak a word of hope to those who have heard so many words of hate.
I have heard the mocking words of those who believe that the present time ordains an identical future, and thus dismiss as naïve efforts to, for one small but certainly profoundly significant example this weekend, do something constructive to address the epidemic of gun violence that plagues our nation.
It is often easier simply to keep one’s mouth shut. But when Jesus says, “come and see,” he calls us also to speak – to speak the truth in love and to speak truth to power.
Will you love the 'you' you hide
if I but call your name?
Will you quell the fear inside
and never be the same?
Will you use the faith you've found
to reshape the world around
through my sight and touch and sound
in you and you in me?
When Jesus says, “come and see,” he is inviting us to bring our best – and our worst – our whole lives to bear for the sake of the world that God so loves. Paul put it like this:
“I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.”
Worship, then, is not something that we do for an hour or so on Sunday morning, when we read some ancient words, say a few prayers, sing a couple of hymns and then go back to the same old, same old. Worship is giving our whole lives to the one who says, “come and see.”
And what lives they are! What glorious, beautiful, creative, joyous, but also broken, suffering, lonely, lives. All of that, is what God asks of us. Our whole lives – lived wholly for the sake of a broken, suffering, lonely world.
When Jesus says, “come and see,” that is his summons, his call, his invitation. It is the one he heard in the voice that said, at his baptism, “this is my son, the beloved, in whom I am well pleased.”
It is a call, ultimately, to live as if death does not get the last word. Think about that: death does not get the last word.
That is the epiphany of the incarnation. That is the singular insight of the Jesus story, and it is not, in the end, a flash of inspiration or recognition, and certainly not just dumb luck. It is the promise that makes possible the lives we are called to lead. You’re not going to get a supernova named after you when you answer this call. You’re going to get something far greater.
For, when we get over that primal fear of our own demise, then the life that Jesus calls us to truly reveals itself: a life of joyous, risky, barrier-breaking, peace-making, justice-seeking, hope-filled, faithful, loving, and worshipful service to the One who gave us these lives in the first place; the One who promises us, in baptism, that we will never be alone, and that nothing in life or in death will ever separate us from the love which is the ground of creation itself.
Lord, your summons echoes true
when you but call my name.
Let me turn and follow you
and never be the same.
In your company I'll go
where your love and footsteps show.
Thus I'll move and live and grow
in you and you in me.
“Come and see,” Jesus says now, to you. “Come and see.”
*(The Summons, words and music by John Bell)
John 1:29-41; Romans 12
So, have you heard the story of the 10-year-old girl in Canada who helped discover a supernova and it’s now named after her? Apparently, after about 10 minutes worth of work, she found something no one else had ever seen, even though it’s been out there for tens of millions of years. Star gazers and astronomers often spend thousands of hours searching the night sky, and most never make the kind of discovery this little girl made in less time than the average 10-year-old will spend avoiding taking a shower.
Sometimes it just works out that way. An epiphany of a lifetime happens in a flash – a flash of inspiration, perhaps, a flash of recognition, a flash of dumb luck.
Take the opening story from John’s gospel. What did John the Baptist see in Jesus that, apparently, no one had seen before, even though Jesus was roughly 30 years old? What did the first disciples see in him that they were willing to leave their lives behind and “come and see”? What did Jesus see in them? What were any of them looking for when they found each other?
Was it a flash of inspiration? Was it some inspired kind of recognition? Was it plain old dumb luck?
What were they looking for? What brought them together?
Well, let’s pause right there for a moment, and test our own experiences. What are you looking for that brought you here? To this place at this moment?
Let me tell you why I am here. I am here, at this moment, in this place, because I heard this voice, calling in the night, saying simply:
Will you come and follow me,
If I but call your name?
Will you go where you don't know
And never be the same?
Will you let my love be shown,
will you let my name be known,
will you let my life be grown
in you and you in me?
Those are, of course, John Bell’s* words, but I think they capture well the essence of Jesus’ invitation to the disciples: “come and see.”
The same invitation resounds for us today. It is an invitation to live our lives differently than we would otherwise, to live them differently than we would absent this summons, this invitation. It is an invitation that Paul heard on the road to Damascus when he was invited to live differently. It is an invitation he repeated to the young church in our passage from Romans:
“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God – what is good and acceptable and perfect.”
When Jesus says, “come and see,” he invites those who hear to follow him on a journey of transformation that involves renewal, over and over and over again, as we leave our old selves behind to live into lives that are closer to what God has in mind for us.
Will you leave your self behind
if I but call your name?
Will you care for cruel and kind
and never be the same?
Will you risk the hostile stare
should your life attract or scare,
will you let me answer prayer
in you and you in me?
Risking the hostile stare … have you ever felt that way about your faith? Have you ever found it difficult to “come out,” as it were, as a Christian, as a follower of Jesus?
I certainly have felt that way. I have heard the words of condemnation from those who do not understand that the Creator’s love is not limited by the creature’s sexual orientation – and from those who do not believe that any Christian could speak a word of hope to those who have heard so many words of hate.
I have heard the mocking words of those who believe that the present time ordains an identical future, and thus dismiss as naïve efforts to, for one small but certainly profoundly significant example this weekend, do something constructive to address the epidemic of gun violence that plagues our nation.
It is often easier simply to keep one’s mouth shut. But when Jesus says, “come and see,” he calls us also to speak – to speak the truth in love and to speak truth to power.
Will you love the 'you' you hide
if I but call your name?
Will you quell the fear inside
and never be the same?
Will you use the faith you've found
to reshape the world around
through my sight and touch and sound
in you and you in me?
When Jesus says, “come and see,” he is inviting us to bring our best – and our worst – our whole lives to bear for the sake of the world that God so loves. Paul put it like this:
“I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.”
Worship, then, is not something that we do for an hour or so on Sunday morning, when we read some ancient words, say a few prayers, sing a couple of hymns and then go back to the same old, same old. Worship is giving our whole lives to the one who says, “come and see.”
And what lives they are! What glorious, beautiful, creative, joyous, but also broken, suffering, lonely, lives. All of that, is what God asks of us. Our whole lives – lived wholly for the sake of a broken, suffering, lonely world.
When Jesus says, “come and see,” that is his summons, his call, his invitation. It is the one he heard in the voice that said, at his baptism, “this is my son, the beloved, in whom I am well pleased.”
It is a call, ultimately, to live as if death does not get the last word. Think about that: death does not get the last word.
That is the epiphany of the incarnation. That is the singular insight of the Jesus story, and it is not, in the end, a flash of inspiration or recognition, and certainly not just dumb luck. It is the promise that makes possible the lives we are called to lead. You’re not going to get a supernova named after you when you answer this call. You’re going to get something far greater.
For, when we get over that primal fear of our own demise, then the life that Jesus calls us to truly reveals itself: a life of joyous, risky, barrier-breaking, peace-making, justice-seeking, hope-filled, faithful, loving, and worshipful service to the One who gave us these lives in the first place; the One who promises us, in baptism, that we will never be alone, and that nothing in life or in death will ever separate us from the love which is the ground of creation itself.
Lord, your summons echoes true
when you but call my name.
Let me turn and follow you
and never be the same.
In your company I'll go
where your love and footsteps show.
Thus I'll move and live and grow
in you and you in me.
“Come and see,” Jesus says now, to you. “Come and see.”
*(The Summons, words and music by John Bell)
posted by David Ensign at
10:11 AM
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