Come and See
John 1:35–51
Everyone is looking for something.
Peace.
Security.
Meaning.
Purpose.
Something that finally satisfies the quiet restlessness of the soul.
That’s not just true of people outside the church. It’s true of people inside it as well. You can be religious, faithful, active—and still be searching.
That’s what we find in John chapter 1. Two men who were already disciples. Two men who were already following a preacher. And yet, somehow, they still hadn’t found what they were looking for.
And then Jesus turns and asks them a question that has echoed through every generation since:
“What are you seeking?”
And when they ask Him where He is staying, Jesus gives one of the simplest—and most profound—invites in all of Scripture:
“Come and see.”
A Priest Who Knew the Lamb
John the Baptist was no ordinary preacher.
Scripture tells us that his father was a priest. That means John himself came from a priestly line. By birth, training, and expectation, John should have served in the Temple.
But John’s temple was the wilderness.
His altar was the Jordan River.
And one day, as Jesus walked by, John looked at Him and said:
“Look! There is the Lamb of God.”
That matters—because a priest should know a lamb when he sees one.
John had grown up around sacrifice. He knew what lambs were for. And when he saw Jesus, he didn’t hesitate. He recognized what others missed.
It’s like a seasoned jeweler who can spot a real diamond in seconds. An amateur might see only sparkle, but the expert knows weight, cut, and clarity.
John had a trained spiritual eye.
And he pointed—not to himself—but to Jesus.
A Humble Witness Who Let Go
When John says, “There is the Lamb of God,” something remarkable happens.
Two of his disciples leave him—and follow Jesus.
And John lets them go.
No protest.
No insecurity.
No attempt to protect his following.
John understood his role. He wasn’t the destination. He was the signpost.
We tend to hold tightly to what we build—our influence, our ministries, our roles. But John held his disciples with open hands.
And here’s the truth: anything we have to clutch to keep isn’t from God. What is truly from God can be released—and still flourish.
A Savior Who Makes the First Move
As those two disciples follow behind Him, Jesus turns and sees them.
Before they speak, before they ask a question, Jesus notices them.
They didn’t find Jesus.
Jesus found them.
That’s what we Wesleyans call prevenient grace.
As Augustine once said, “We cannot find God unless He first finds us.”
Grace doesn’t begin with our search for God. It begins with God’s movement toward us.
It’s like a child lost in a crowd. The child may cry out—but it’s the parent who pushes through the people first.
Before we ever thought to look for Christ, Christ was already moving toward us.
The Question of the Ages
Jesus turns and asks:
“What are you seeking?”
He doesn’t ask, “What do you believe?”
He doesn’t ask, “Where do you worship?”
He doesn’t ask, “What do you know?”
He asks a heart question.
What are you really looking for?
Peace?
Security?
Power?
Prestige?
Fame?
Fortune?
Bono once sang, “I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.”
That lyric could have belonged to Andrew and John—even though they were already religious.
Imagine sitting in a room filled with everything you thought you wanted—and yet there’s an empty chair in the corner. You can’t explain it, but you know something is missing.
Religion alone doesn’t cure restlessness. Only Jesus does.
An Invitation, Not an Argument
When they ask Jesus where He is staying, He doesn’t debate them. He doesn’t lecture them. He doesn’t overwhelm them with theology.
He simply says:
“Come and see.”
This wasn’t an invitation to a location. It was an invitation to a relationship.
In effect, Jesus was saying, “I am what you’re looking for.”
No one is argued into the Kingdom of God.
Arguments harden hearts. There’s always a better debater somewhere. But faith doesn’t come through persuasion—it comes through encounter.
Think about how people choose a restaurant. No one goes because of a debate. They go because someone says, “You’ve got to try this place.”
Come and see.
Christianity isn’t explained—it’s experienced.
From Information to Transformation
Somewhere along the way, Sunday morning became more about information than encounter.
There’s always a better preacher online.
A better worship band somewhere else.
A more polished experience down the road.
But church was never meant to be about performance.
It’s about presence.
You can study sheet music all day and never hear a melody. In the same way, we can learn about God without ever encountering Him.
But today isn’t about hearing another sermon.
It’s about meeting the living Christ.
Invitation to Holy Communion
In a moment, we will come to the Lord’s Table.
This table is not an argument.
It is not a performance.
It is not reserved for the spiritually elite.
It is Jesus’ quiet invitation:
“Come and see.”
Here, we do not explain grace—we receive it.
Here, we do not impress God—we are met by Him.
Here, the Lamb of God who was pointed out by John the Baptist is made known to us again—not just with our minds, but with our hearts.
If you are seeking peace, come and see.
If you are weary, come and see.
If you are unsure, come and see.
If you still haven’t found what you’re looking for, come and see.
This is Christ’s table.
He invites you—just as you are.
Come, and see.
