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“Come and See”, Rev. Melissa St. Clair, 1/19/14

“Come and See”

A sermon preached at

Heart of the Rockies Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)

Fort Collins, CO

by the Rev. Melissa St. Clair

John 1:29-42

January 19, 2014

Last Sunday, we heard Matthew’s account of Jesus’ baptism.  John the Baptizer is there with Jesus at the Jordan, and amid John’s protests that it’s Jesus who should be baptizing him, Jesus is the one who ends up coming out of the water.  The heavens open, and the Spirit of God descends like a dove on Jesus.  A voice from heaven rings, “This is my Son, the beloved.” (Matt. 3:13-17).

The author of John’s gospel takes a different approach to this experience of Jesus’ baptism.  John the Baptizer is still there, but he’s not actually narrating the account first-hand.  Rather, we get a second-hand testimony.  John isn’t even credited with baptizing Jesus; he merely shares what he sees.

READ JOHN 1:29-42

3215 Wade Avenue, about 15 minutes from downtown Raleigh, North Carolina.  It’s a typical-looking home for that neighborhood—brick, one-story, metal roof, green shutters.  It’s owners had a new roof put on last year.  Thousands of people drive by it each day on their commute.  But upon closer inspection, 3215 Wade Avenue is missing a few things—there’s no way to get to the house without traipsing through the lawn: there’s no driveway, not even a walkway.  The careful observer might even notice that the lights are never on.

Why?

Because the house that sits at 3215 Wade Avenue isn’t really a house.  It’s a façade for a pump station for the city’s water.  Without these superchargers pushing water through the system, Raleigh’s water would flow backwards.

The station was constructed that way because neighbors, including a church on the adjoining property put up a fight when they heard that city officials thought the location was perfect for this particular need.  So the city got creative – and courteous—and decided to design the house.

You would never know that though if you weren’t invited to come and see the insides by a city employee, who gives a tour of the not-so-homey “house” through an interview with the local public radio station (WUNC).[1]

Those three words—come and see—can open up our eyes, minds, and hearts to all kinds of new things.

Who was the person who first invited you to come and see what this Jesus fellow was all about?  For some of us, we might have come to know Jesus like John the Baptist did, in a moment of epiphany—literally, a manifestation of Jesus so real that you couldn’t help but believe in the One who takes away guilt, shame, burdens too heavy to bear alone.  For others of us, we might have come to know Jesus like Andrew and Phillip did—through religious upbringing and teachings—and then making the choice to weave our own life into that sacred narrative, finding that our lives have purpose and meaning within that story.  For still others of us, we might be more like psalmist, who first knew God’s divine presence through that strength, that higher power that can lift us up during times of unspeakable grief and suffering.[2]

No matter how you first came to experience Jesus—and maybe you’re still waiting for that experience—my hunch is that someone helped you make sense of that experience. Someone who had been there before, someone who was already on the journey with Jesus, they helped shine some light on the path.

Jesus’ followers were already on a journey by the time he arrived on the scene. Many had been followers of John the Baptizer, although John did his best to make it clear that Jesus is the one they really should be following.

“After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me,” John testifies twice in this first chapter (John 1:15, 30).  “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world!” John proclaims repeatedly, making clear his belief that Jesus is the Son of God (John 1:19, 36).

John’s endorsement means something.  Disciples that had been following him turn and follow Jesus.  Was it really that simple?

Jesus notices these disciples following him, and asks, “What are you looking for?”

They don’t answer, exactly, but rather respond with a question of their own: “Where are you staying?” they ask Jesus.

Jesus replies with those three words—come and see.  Come and see.

While still mired in how overwhelming seminary felt at the end of my first semester, my new-found best friend tried to convince me to sign up with her for the January cultural immersion experience—a 3 week trip to Ghana, West Africa.  I was exhausted, and did I mention overwhelmed?  I was already so far from home that taking off to the other side of the world didn’t seem like the most appealing idea.  Come see, she said about the informational meeting.  I went.  And I learned about the invitation to come and see that had been extended to the seminary by one of its doctoral candidates who called Ghana home.  I went.

And my eyes, mind, and heart were opened to all kinds of new things.

There was the village that, unlike all the other villages we had visited, had no chickens roaming freely.  One of my classmates asked where they kept their chickens.  They just looked down at the plates that had been placed in front of us, full to overflowing.

There was the ice cold Fanta we were served in glass bottles from coolers in a village with no electricity and no access to the village except by foot.

There was the lesson in the process of how the root vegetable cassava is turned into a dough-like fufu, which, in the right company, is turned into a dance- and song- and spirit-filled worship experience.

There were the refrains of, “You are welcome,” everywhere we went; no “thank you” required.

There were the worship services where the offering was received in separate baskets, sometimes one for each day of the week, corresponding to the day of your birth; sometimes one for men and women; always received more than once in the service and danced with joy to the front of the church.

A world I never would’ve know existed had I not been invited to come and see.  An expression of the church and Christianity so rich and vibrant that I never could have imagined had I not been invited to see for myself.

Jesus invites the two disciples to come and see, and it’s not long before one of them finds his brother and invites him to meet Jesus.  And not much later in John’s gospel, Phillip invites Nathaniel to do the same thing: come and see.

There’s a word we could to use to describe this kind of ministry, but it’s not always a very popular word.  In fact, some people consider it downright offensive.  I’ve heard it referred to as one of those words that you only identify by its first letter in mixed company.

Dare me to say it in church?

It’s the e-word.  Evangelism.

We’re not talking street preaching, slick-haired TV starring, Bible-thumping, fire insurance selling evangelism.  Those are stereotypes anyway.

We’re talking evangelism as invitation, not intimidation.

I’ve often heard people say that our faith tradition, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) is one of the best kept secrets.  On one hand, it’s pretty cool to find a faith community that’s so committed to loving God, serving others, and changing lives through community, transformation, and service; a community who welcomes all to the table because we believe that’s what Jesus did.  On the other hand, we’re the ones keeping the secret.

When was the last time you offered the invitation Jesus—and Andrew and Phillip—did?  Not the invitation to salvation.  Not the invitation to repentance.  Not the invitation to accept Jesus.

Just the invitation to come and see.

At its heart, evangelism is noticing what God is doing in our lives, sharing that with others, and inviting them to come and see for themselves.[3]

Sometimes that doesn’t even involve inviting them into the church building.  It could be a Women at the Well dinner.  It could be a Tennyson Center 24 hour mission trip.  It could be a classic movie with the OWLS, our Older, Wiser, Livelier Seniors.

Let’s start with this: What is one reason why you like this church?  Something specific, a concrete example.  When we invite people to something they haven’t been to before, like a book club, for example, would you say, “Hey, you should come to my book club.  The book is great!”

I love a great book, but I also know that my idea of a great book isn’t necessarily your idea of a great book.  And besides, I often like reading my great books on the couch with my cats.  So why would I go to your book club?

Well, the book is a memoir written by a single, 33-year-old, athletic, workaholic English professor, a vegetarian who had never had a serious health problem or injury until she was diagnosed with ALS.  The women in the book club are so hospitable—we meet in someone’s home each week.  There’s always chocolate, and there’s always room for more people. Come and see.

Okay—that was about 60 words—60 words was all it took, and I want to be there.

A fellow Disciple, Martha Grace Reese writes that, “the heart of evangelism—or, we could say, invitational ministry­— is having an alive relationship with God, being part of a church you love and caring that people outside the church find what you’ve discovered.” She also notes that 60% of people go to a church because someone first invited them.

The invitation doesn’t have to be complex, but it helps if it’s concrete.  When Jesus invited the disciples to come and see, it wasn’t a vague, sometime-in-the-future proposition. He took them with him back to the place where he was staying right then and there, and they stayed with him for the day.  It wasn’t “come and see me sometime when you’re not too busy” or “come and see me at my place” without providing any more information about how or when to go there.  He took them himself, that day, even.

It’s a big thing this invitation ministry, but it can be easy to write it off as a little thing.  Could it really possibly make a difference?

John the Baptizer simply shared the wonder of what he saw, what he noticed about God’s work in the world.  Like we do with our kids of all ages each time we gather—it was his “God moment.”  But through that sharing, Jesus gains his first disciples, people who will carry his message to the ends of the earth.  Jesus invites them to come and see, and they do.  They leave their families and their homes and embark on a holy adventure.  Yeah, but that’s Jesus, you might saying.  If Jesus personally asked me to follow him, I don’t think I’d say no either.  Ah.  But then Andrew tells his brother about his experience, about what he saw, and Simon Peter, upon going to see Jesus, eh, no big deal, just becomes the rock upon whom Jesus builds the church.[4]

Maybe it’s easier to think of ourselves as invitationalists rather than evangelists.  I think just made that word up now, invitationalists.  Or what if we reclaimed the word evangelism?

Or what if we just said that we seek to be ones who love because we have been loved.

Ones who welcome because we have been welcomed.

Ones who take the time to notice others because we’ve been noticed.

Ones who invite because we have received an invitation.

Come and see.