“Good News for Skeptics”
January 28, 2018
I Samuel 3:1-10
John 1:43-51
“Nazareth!” an incredulous Nathanael asks Philip, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”
Nathanael was from Cana, not far from Jesus’ home town of Nazareth. So maybe it was just a matter of rivalry between neighboring towns—kind of like those in Iowa City who might ask “Can anything good come out of North Liberty?”
My guess is that similar thoughts about this town could be held by our neighbors to the north.
Nathanael in his skepticism will hear good news.
But before we get to that—and before we in our own skepticism might also hear some good news—let’s recall what happened to Philip.
As John’s Gospel begins, Jesus finds Philip and says those simple but life-changing words: “Follow me.”
Jesus doesn’t say, “Go to church.”
Jesus doesn’t say, “Learn to pray.”
Jesus doesn’t say, “Feed the hungry.”
Jesus doesn’t say, “Resist.”
Maybe, in time, we will.
The first word we hear, however, the first invitation we receive, is simply, “Come, draw near. Walk along for a while. Watch what I do. If you look long enough, you just might be convinced.”
Follow me. This is the simple call of God in Christ—and each of us must find out for ourselves that really means.
Reflecting on the call of God and our vocations, the novelist and Presbyterian minister, Frederick Buechner famously said that “The kind of work God usually calls you to is the kind of work (a) that you need most to do and (b) that the world most needs to have done,” adding, “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the worlds’ deep hunger meet.” Those are encouraging and inspiring words. They have been repeated by ministers like me so often that if Buechner were paid every time they are used in a sermon he would be very rich.
But there is another side to this call—a side that gives us pause. The words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer urge caution in responding when he warns us: “When Christ calls us, he bids us to come and die.”
Listen and respond with thoughtful care.
Jesus has the first word—direct and to the point: “Follow me.”
The call to follow comes to us as we are—religious or not, church-going or not, involved or apathetic.
We realize, perhaps quickly, perhaps over time, that the One who offers this invitation is so compelling that we join with countless other women and men and line up behind him. We follow—bringing our deep gladness to the world’s deep hunger; we follow—dying to old ways of thinking and acting; we follow along as best as we know how. As others join with us, we find new ways of walking along.
I guess that’s a major reason why people decide to belong to congregations. We’re willing to put up with all the quirks of everyone else—and everyone else is willing to put up with our own eccentricities—because we want to be with others who have heard a similar call.
That’s something to keep in our hearts and our minds as we hold our annual meeting this morning.
We want to be with others who have known a similar reluctance, a similar questioning, a similar passion.
We want to be with others who are walking together in the ways of Jesus Christ, known and to be made known to us.
In this way, when hearing grows dim, when love is slight, when despair and disillusionment grow strong—and you know that happens—we might find support from one another along the way. Once again this morning, our Annual Meeting makes clear that the Christian life is not a solitary one. We are in this together.
The life of faith is not lived in isolation. We need one another. The call of God is something we hear and understand not only as individuals but also together.
God knows there are enough places in the world in which people tear down one another: the workplace, the halls of government, schools and businesses, even homes. And yes, you know that some churches can be like this as well.
But a congregation can also be a place where people build up one another, where people seek the good as we seek God—this congregation is just such a place. That is the promise of a group like this one. As we seek to live out that promise, we discover what it means to follow.
To Philip, to you and me, Jesus has the first word: “Follow me.”
Philip—found by Jesus—finds Nathaniel under the fig tree.
Maybe you can feel the excitement in his voice as he speaks. “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote,” Philip blurts out. “Jesus—from Nazareth.”
It is not a platform or program or a position that Philip announces to Nathanael, but a person. “We have found—Jesus of Nazareth.”
And what might we expect in response to such words?
Agreement? Commitment?
If Nathanael’s response is typical—and I think it is in many ways—we can expect doubt.
Sitting under the fig tree Nathanael barely looks up. The words about Jesus that Philip speaks fall flat even as they leave his mouth.
“Nazareth? Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Nathanael, from the town of Cana, knows how insignificant Nazareth, ten miles to the south, is. One would not expect great things from Nazareth.
Doubt seems appropriate
People wonder:
Can anything good come from the church?
Can anything good come from that old brick building across the street that always looks so closed?
Can anything good come from the followers of Jesus?
The followers of Jesus and our churches can disappoint.
And often enough Jesus does not seem to live up to expectations.
Nathanael's question is provocative, but far more interesting is Philip's response. He doesn’t meet doubt with a sermon or an argument. He takes the doubt of Nathanael seriously—as we can take our own doubt and the skepticism of others.
Philip replies with the phrase he heard from Jesus, the phrase to which he responded: “Come and see.”
The great American preacher Philips Brooks spoke about these words: “Come and see.” “They invite inquiry,” he said. “They proclaim a religion which is to have its own clear tests, which it invites everyone to use. It is an open faith.”2 Look around. See for yourself if there is anything good.
Following Jesus is not a second-hand experience. It is not a matter of authority, unless that authority is your own experience.
“Come and see.” These are the words each of us hears in some way—an invitation to see if this makes any sense for your life.
Those words continue to speak to each person—believer or skeptic—in times of doubt. Do you find yourself asking “Why am I a Christian? Why do I keep trying to follow this way of life?” Or do you wonder as you sit here this morning what any of this could possibly have to do with you?
Come and see. Take a deeper look. Don't take my word for it, but see for yourself. In doubt we hear "Come and see."
Well, like many others, maybe like you, Nathanael accepts the invitation. He gets up from his comfortable seat in the shade of the fig tree and goes to have a look at this Jesus. But the next words are not Nathanael’s. They belong to Jesus. The one who is always ahead of the game says: “I know you—who and what you are.”
Over and over in John's gospel when people encounter Jesus there is the shock that comes with being recognized—Nathanael, the woman at the well, Mary in the garden on Easter morning. Jesus speaks to them and calls them deeper into life, so that—perhaps for the first time—they know what it means to truly be alive.
And I find some solace in this—as John’s Gospel begins, the longest conversation Jesus has is with someone who doubts. Jesus reveals the most about himself to someone who gives voice to his skepticism.
If you keep reading through the Gospel of John, you’ll find that the risen Jesus does the same thing at the end—talking extensively to the one we often call “Doubting Thomas.” It’s as though the entire Gospel is bracketed by stories of skeptics and the Jesus who wants to be with them—and with us—in doubt and disbelief.
If Nathanael can reply “You are the Son of God;” if we are able in our own way to recognize Jesus for who he is in our own time, it is because we sense that he has recognized us. He has seen us under our fig trees, known our doubts about the whole enterprise and still says, “Follow me.” He still invites us to “Come and see.”
At this point Jesus stops speaking to Nathanael. He turns and we discover, as is usually the case in the Gospel of John, that he is speaking to us! “In very truth I tell you, I tell you all . . .” he begins. “You will see greater things than these.”
It reminds me of the response of Brendan, a sixth century Irish monk to a Druid chieftain who asked what would happen if he became a Christian. Brendan said: “You will stumble on wonder upon wonder, and every wonder true.”
It happens still.
In a world that still marginalizes LGBT people—come and see a congregation that openly welcomes each and every one.
In a world that preaches a gospel of “each one for his or her self”—come and see a congregation that feeds the hungry, that shelters the homeless.
In a world that looks at refugees with suspicion and even fear—come and see a congregation that works with others and welcomes the stranger.
Wonder upon wonder.
Come and see.
Jesus—always a little ahead of us—calls to each “Follow me.”
Follow in living and in dying.
Follow to new resurrected life.
That's where the risen Christ is leading.