““How do you know about me?” Nathanael asked. Jesus replied, “I could see you under the fig tree before Philip found you.” Then Nathanael exclaimed, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God—the King of Israel!” John 1:48-49 NLT

In every kind of love story, there is a moment of recognition where one soul sees into the soul of another and finds a place to rest and call home.  For many, like Nathaniel, it can be on the very first meeting.  A look, something that was said, the sound of someone’s voice, it feels familiar and there is a deep stirring. These moments are personal, uniquely crafted, and unexplainable to anyone else in the vacinity. 

Matthew was a tax collector.  While in the middle of a workday, sitting at a tax booth, he looked up to see Jesus stop in front of him.  The Master said, “Follow me!”  Matthew rose from the table and never looked back.  There was instant recognition somewhere deep inside. Something in him awakened. 

On another occasion, Jesus walked down a road and called up to a man in the tree.  He called this lone sheep by name.  Zacchaeus.  The surprised man, perched on a limb, responded instantly and took Jesus joyfully into his home. He lost all sense that he might eventually become the talk of the town.

On another day, Jesus went into Galilee to find a man named Philip.  The call was the same. “Follow me,” Jesus said.  And he did. Philip went to find Nathaniel who questioned him about the validity of any man coming out of Nazareth. But upon meeting Jesus for himself, that same moment of recognition occurred between the two men. Nathaniel’s spirit, quickened by Jesus’ words, came to life. Words of new faith came out like a torrent.

When my last breath is drawn on this earth and I open my eyes on the shores of heaven, the thing I look forward to most is hearing Jesus welcome me home – by name.  None will have said ‘Christine’ quite like him. How many times will He say to me, “Christine, I saw you when you were . . .”  All the times I wondered if I was alone will be healed in the presence of He who is faithful. 

Your voice can be heard in all the earth. It is also heard deep in my spirit. For the many who hear and recognize You as the One speaking, we are forever changed. Amen

“Nazareth!” exclaimed Nathanael. “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” “Come and see for yourself,” Philip replied.  As they approached, Jesus said, “Now here is a genuine son of Israel—a man of complete integrity.” “How do you know about me?” Nathanael asked. Jesus replied, “I could see you under the fig tree before Philip found you.” Then Nathanael exclaimed, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God—the King of Israel!” John 1:46-49 NLT

No one comes to love Jesus merely by borrowing another person’s encounter with Him. The stories of faith may awaken hunger. But eventually, every soul must meet Christ for itself. Philip knew that Nathaniel would only be convinced about the Messiah if he saw Him personally.  That’s why he urged, “Come and see.”

Grace had just upended Philip’s ordinary life. The long-awaited Messiah had found him, and nothing in the future would eclipse the memory. As Philip hurried to Nathanael, he must have wondered what would happen when the eyes of Jesus rested upon his friend. Soon, Nathanael’s assumptions would give way beneath him. He would discover that before he ever saw Jesus, Jesus had already seen him.

Are such defining encounters still possible for those who ask Christ to reveal Himself? Yes. There are moments that become mountaintops; encounters that become a Bethel. These are not limited to unbelievers seeking to be saved.  They are also for believers who have settled for monotony, who are trying to live on yesterday’s manna. We are to seek, listen, and pursue God relentlessly.  The glory of Jesus will surprise us again and again at unsuspecting times. An ordinary day will be turned upside down as the eternal penetrates the temporal.  God’s glory will fill our field of vision and Earth’s trinkets will not satisfy a heart that has glimpsed the beauty of God.

Others may not understand what happened. They may see nothing unusual about the day or the place. But we know that Christ drew near. Even in remembering, we tread softly. We’ll take our shoes off even as we remember it. We are left humbled by the mystery of being fully seen and yet deeply loved.

Words often fail us afterward. How can we explain the moment when Jesus became more real than everything around us? We cannot give another person our encounter, but we can point them toward the One who met us there.

We know it’s hard to capture it in words and tell someone else what happened.  That’s why we join Philip and the countless witnesses who have followed him. “Come and see.”

Come to the ones we’ve been praying for who haven’t seen You yet. Let them discover that while they are still searching for You, Your eyes are already upon them. Amen

Philip went to look for Nathanael and told him, “We have found the very person Moses and the prophets wrote about! His name is Jesus, the son of Joseph from Nazareth.” “Nazareth!” exclaimed Nathanael. “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” John 1:45-46 [NLT]

Limited experience can become a dangerous storyteller. A few painful encounters, repeated often enough, begin to sound like truth. If I fall three out of five times when climbing a ladder, I might conclude that climbing a ladder is dangerous. If every snake I’ve ever encountered has been a garden snake, I might conclude that all snakes are friendly. If I meet several members of one family and they are all rude, I shouldn’t conclude that the rest of them are also contentious.

I was born in upstate New York, though Athens, Georgia, has been home for twenty-six years. We love it here and expect to remain until God calls us home. Over the years, I have often heard that northerners are rude, as though an entire region could be understood through a handful of encounters. I grew up in a town of a thousand people, among neighbors who were warm and generous. Generalizations can lead us to painfully wrong conclusions.

Nathanael spoke disparagingly of Nazareth, not believing that any good thing could come from such a place. Galilee was a disregarded region in the eyes of the more polished Palestinians of the South. The Galileans were considered unrefined, their accent betraying them before anyone got to know them as people.

Why would God give Jesus a childhood in this disrespected setting? Why set him back with the people of Palestine? All the reasons are not known, but this I do know ~ God does not need prestige to reveal His glory. He chose a nation of slaves and called them His own. He passed over Jesse’s impressive sons and anointed the forgotten shepherd. Again and again, God anoints His choicest servants where human pride would never think to look.

Can anything good come from Nazareth? More than good. Our salvation came from there. Our Teacher, our Redeemer, our King.

Forgive me when I disqualify myself from Your favor based on self-evaluation. I forget who it is that loves me and called me out of obscurity. Amen

Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, was one of these men who heard what John said and then followed Jesus. Andrew went to find his brother, Simon, and told him, “We have found the Messiah” (which means “Christ”). John 1:40-41 [NLT]

There are days when your life is overturned by unexpected news, an encounter with a person, or a moment with God you did not see coming. When you try to tell others, the impact is often far less on them than it was on you. If it is your good news, it may not feel like the same good news to them. If it is your sorrow, they may care deeply and still be unable to feel the full weight of it. Few things are more lonely than sharing what set your heart on fire and receiving only a polite nod in return.

Oh, but there are exceptions. Never in a million years did Andrew expect to meet the Messiah, the One his people had been aching for across centuries of promise and silence. But he did. After only a little time in Jesus’ presence, Andrew knew. The encounter struck him like lightning. He could not sit with it. He could not keep it private. Breathless, he went looking for Simon. “We have found the Messiah.” And Peter came. That is its own wonder. Peter did not dismiss Andrew’s intensity. He did not reduce the moment to religious excitement. Something in Andrew’s face, his voice, his urgency must have carried the weight of what had happened. Peter got up and went to see Jesus for himself. What began as Andrew’s holy astonishment became their shared turning point.

Those who know you well can often hear what your words cannot fully explain. They can sense when Jesus has rearranged your soul. And those who know Him well will not patronize your joy; they will recognize His fingerprints and rejoice with you.

Perhaps this kind of fellowship should be the litmus test for where we worship and with whom we study the Word together. We all need a tribe of companions. We need people who do not make us feel foolish for wonder. Spirit partners can also be family members. That’s ideal! For brothers, Simon and Andrew, life will take them on a journey where they’ll walk in Jesus’ footsteps. First, they’ll travel together as disciples of the Savior. Then, on different continents as ambassadors and, eventually, martyrs.

Lord, take me to the people whose ears are open to the difference You have made in me. Let them see what my words can barely carry. Amen

Jesus looked around and saw them following. ‘What do you want?’ he asked them. John 1:38 [NLT]

Two men were so drawn to Jesus after His baptism that they stopped everything and started following Him. Jesus, sensing them behind Him, asked them, “What do you want?”

There are moments when the Spirit stirs the heart before the mind can explain it. Something shifts. A hunger wakes up. The soul begins moving toward Jesus before it has language for why. I imagine that is what happened here. They were being drawn by Someone they did not yet understand, but could no longer ignore.

So they answered, “Where are you staying?” In other words, ‘we want more time with you.’ Jesus wasn’t put off. He told them to follow, that He would take them to where he was currently living. He was accessible then ~ and still is.

Christianity is the only faith that is intimate. Leaders of religious movements develop a leadership style that keeps their followers at a distance. The bigger the movement, the more out of reach they become. But Jesus remained accessible to the people. Yes, there were times He retreated to pray, to rest and restore, but His invitation never theatrical. “Come unto me, all you who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

The King of Kings and Lord of Lords has numbered the hairs of my head, has kept every tear I’ve cried close to Him, and engraved my face, and my name, on the palms of His hands. His promises are not general kindnesses floating out of reach; they are personal mercies written into the hidden places of my life.

Jesus, You turn toward my wordless hunger and invite me to come closer. I do not know the depth of my emptiness, or the greatness of Your filling, until I follow You home. Amen

The next day John saw Jesus coming toward him and said, “Look! The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! He is the one I was talking about. John 1:29-30 [NLT]

The entire Old Testament asks the question, “Where is the lamb?” At the beginning of Jewish history, the people put lamb’s blood on the doorposts of their homes. They believed God’s promise that this blood sign would cause the death angel to pass them by. And it did.

At another pivotal point in history, Abraham was told to take Isaac up to the top of Mt. Moriah and sacrifice him. Isaac asked his father, ‘But where is the lamb?’ Abraham answered that God would provide one. He did then and He did, again, with the birth of the Messiah. It was the final Lamb who paid for sin, once, and for all.

The priests in the temple in Jerusalem sacrificed a lamb every morning and every night for centuries. For hundreds of years, God’s people brought lambs to the temple to sacrifice. Just one trip, or one lamb, would not suffice. They had to keep coming back year after year because no lamb could take away all their sin.

People were used to people providing lambs. The announcement from John that God’s Lamb was approaching was the most shocking thing they could hear. God would provide a Lamb? The best news of all was that this Lamb could take sins away forever. They wouldn’t just be covered over until the next sacrifice.

No wonder John must have been breathless. The question of the ages was being answered in the Person coming toward him. Jesus authenticated, in that moment, the Torah and the writings of the prophets. John’s audience had heard the stories. They knew the ache of waiting. They carried the long memory of lambs, blood, altars, and promise. But never could they have imagined that the Lamb sent by God would walk toward them in person. The Lamb had come. And His name was Jesus.

And to think that you went back to Your Father and sent back Your Spirit. You came personally, with power. Amazing, Jesus.

Right here in the crowd is someone you do not recognize. Though his ministry follows mine, I’m not even worthy to be his slave and untie the straps of his sandal.”  John 1:26-17 [NLT]

John said, ‘I’m not even worthy to be the Messiah’s slave.’  Unworthiness has so many faces.  Only one is righteous; the others are not.   Yet, for any of us who have suffered from toxic unworthiness, we can agree that it can feel like it might be a holy thing.  Satan loves that.  He wants us to mistake it for humility.

Isaac Watts wrote the words, ‘For such a worm as I, ‘ when he composed the hymn, AT THE CROSS.  Was he celebrating the glory of Christ or was he feeling an exaggerated sense of his own unworthiness?  The rest of the lyrics reveal that it was the first. 

Self-loathing is healed in the arms of Jesus.  His love melts all my resistance, and I can stop fighting and fully surrender.  I no longer have to brace myself for rejection from One who already knows my whole story. I throw open the door and let Him enter places that I’ve locked.  He does not humiliate me.  He tells the truth without cruelty.  He answers every ounce of shame with Calvary. 

This is the joy Satan hates. If he cannot keep me from Christ, he will try to keep me suspicious of His affection. He will make conviction feel like condemnation. I’ll never get my head out of the dirt.  But my unworthiness is not the final word about me because I’m joined to the One who is worthy. 

When John said he was not worthy to untie the sandals of Jesus, he was not trapped in shame. He was free. Free from self-importance. Free from spiritual competition. Free to be small because Christ was so magnificent.  Holy unworthiness bows, then rejoices. Toxic unworthiness bows, then refuses to get up.

Jesus, let my smallness become worship, not bondage.  Amen

This was John’s testimony when the Jewish leaders sent priests and Temple assistants from Jerusalem to ask John, “Who are you?” He came right out and said, “I am not the Messiah.” John 1:19-20 [NLT]

John had become impossible to ignore. Crowds were leaving the city to find him. They came curious but ended up hearing the message of repentance. Many responded and were baptized. Crowds also came because heaven had been quiet for centuries, and suddenly John’s voice was broke the silence.

Word of John’s flourishing ministry reached the religious leaders in Jerusalem.  Reports circulated.  A man of influence was leading a movement. People were repenting. Spiritual momentum was building outside of their control.  Concerned, Jewish leaders sent priests and Levites to investigate.

“Who are you?” they asked John. John seemed to hear the question ‘beneath the question’. Are you Elijah? Are you the Prophet? Are you the One? He answered with razor-sharp clarity. “I am not the Messiah.”

He knew who he was, and he knew who he was not. Even so, he could have impressed them by telling a bit of his story ~ the visitation of the angel to his father, the miracle of his conception, the prophetic song sung over him as an infant, even the divine assignment placed upon his life before birth. All that was true. But John knew that even true things spoken at the wrong time can become dangerous if they make us the center of attention.

A divine calling can be dangerous when there’s an insatiable need to be on display. But John had been refined by the wilderness. He would not allow popularity to lead to misdirected worship. He would not stand in the light meant for Another.

There is a world of humility in the words “I am not.” I am not the Christ. I am not the Light. I am not the Word. I am a voice.

Notoriety can become a drug. I can begin wanting people to see my calling, my depth, my suffering, and my story. But John teaches me to lay my giftedness down at the feet of Jesus. I may be a teacher, helper, comforter, writer, singer, and wounded healer, but I am still only a jar of clay. I am not divine. 

Let me disappear without second thought wherever Your face can shine more brilliantly through me. Amen