Come and See

John 1: 35 – 51

Today we celebrate the feast of the Epiphany, the beginning of a season when we are invited to notice the ways Jesus is revealed as the Christ—the Messiah, God’s chosen one. Epiphany is about light breaking into darkness, about seeing what we could not see before. It is about revelation. And today, in John’s Gospel, we hear Jesus speak words that are both invitation and challenge: “Come and see.”

This passage begins with John the Baptist standing with two of his disciples. Jesus walks by, and John says, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” Immediately, those two disciples leave John and follow Jesus. When Jesus notices them trailing behind, he asks, “What are you looking for?” They answer with a question of their own: “Rabbi, where are you staying?” And Jesus responds, “Come and see.”

Those three words—come and see—are the heartbeat of this text. These words are not just a casual invitation to check out where Jesus sleeps or who he hangs out with. They are a summons to a new way of seeing, a new way of living. They are the beginning of a pilgrimage for these disciples.

Throughout the last 8 weeks, we have seen our journey toward Jesus’ birth at Christmas as a pilgrimage.

You’ll remember that pilgrimage is not just about traveling to a specific sacred place. It is about movement that changes us. Pilgrimage begins with longing—something stirs in us, and we set out, not entirely sure what we will find. Along the way, we discover that the journey itself transforms us…it transforms our vision. 

We start to see differently.

That is what happens in this passage. Andrew and the other disciple begin a pilgrimage the moment they take that first step toward Jesus. They do not yet know who he is. They only know that John has pointed to him and said, “Look.” And so they look. They follow. They begin to see.

Later in the passage, Philip finds Nathanael and says, “We have found him—the one Moses and the prophets wrote about—Jesus of Nazareth.” Nathanael scoffs: “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip does not argue. He simply says, “Come and see.”

Do you hear it? The invitation keeps echoing: Come and see. It is the invitation of epiphany. It is the invitation of pilgrimage. It is an invitation to transformation.

The season of epiphany invites us to see differently. But that is not easy. Nathanael’s question—“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”—is a question shaped by assumptions, by prejudice, by the limits of his imagination. Nazareth was a backwater town. Nothing significant came from there. Nathanael cannot see beyond what he thinks he knows.

And yet, when Nathanael comes to Jesus, something shifts. Jesus greets him: “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit.” Nathanael is startled by this: “Where did you get to know me?” Jesus answers, “I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you.” Suddenly Nathanael sees differently. He blurts out, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!”

What changed? Nathanael encountered a presence that knew him deeply, a presence that saw him before he could see himself. And in that moment, his vision opened. His assumptions fell away. He glimpsed something holy and new to him.

That is what Jesus does. We will see this as we dig more deeply into John’s gospel. In John’s gospel, Jesus calls us to see differently—ourselves, others, the world. He calls us to see with eyes of grace, the eyes with which he sees those around him, with eyes of possibility, eyes that recognize God at work in unexpected places.

What if in this season we received this invitation to see as Jesus sees. That invitation is really to the lifelong journey of being a disciple who follows Jesus. And that journey begins with the willingness to take a step, to move in a direction, to risk leaving behind what we thought we knew.

Think about the disciples in this passage. They do not receive a detailed map. They do not get all their questions answered. They simply hear an invitation: Come and see. And they go. That is what pilgrimage looks like. It is not about certainty. It is about trust. It is about openness to surprise.

Along the way, we discover that seeing differently is not just about what we notice with our eyes. It is about what we perceive with our hearts. It is about recognizing God’s presence in the ordinary, in the overlooked, in the places we never expected to find holiness.

So let me ask: Where do you need to see differently? Where do we, as a community, need to see differently?

Maybe it is in how we see our neighbors—the ones who do not look like us, vote like us, worship like us. Maybe it is in how we see ourselves—not as failures or frauds, but as beloved children of God. Maybe it is in how we see the world—not as hopelessly broken, but as a place where God is still at work, still calling, still redeeming.

Seeing differently is hard work. It means letting go of assumptions. It means being willing to be surprised. It means stepping into spaces of discomfort and discovery. But that is the work of epiphany. That is the work of pilgrimage. And Christ is still speaking those words today: Come and see.

Here is the thing: When we begin to see differently, our lives become testimony. People notice. They wonder. They ask. And like Philip, we get to say, “Come and see.”

What would someone see if they came to our church, to our community, to our homes? Would they see love in action? Would they see grace that creates a place of belonging? Would they see a people on pilgrimage to become disciples—still learning, still growing, still open to God’s surprises?

Because that is what the world needs. Not just words about Jesus, but lives that reflect his light. Lives that testify to the power of love. Lives that embody the invitation: Come and see.

Jesus ends this passage with a promise: “You will see greater things than these. You will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.” In other words, the journey is just beginning. There is more to see. More to discover. More to be revealed.

When we follow Jesus, when we accept his invitation to come and see, we step into a life of unfolding revelation. We learn to see the world as God sees it—shot through with grace, shimmering with possibility, alive with love.

So hear the invitation again: Come and see. Come and see what God is doing. Come and see where Christ is leading. Come and see how love changes everything.

And as we go, may our eyes be opened. May our hearts be changed. May our lives testify to the One who calls us—not just to look, but to see.

As we hear Jesus’ invitation—Come and see—we might wonder how to carry that openness into the year ahead. One simple yet powerful practice is choosing a guiding word, sometimes called a starword. Just as the Magi followed a star that led them to Christ, a starword can serve as a compass for our own pilgrimage. It’s not about predicting the future or setting rigid goals; it’s about intention. A starword invites us to notice where God might be at work, to see differently, and to stay open to surprise.

During communion today, you’ll have the opportunity to receive a starword for this year. Let the word be a surprise, an inspiration, and let it be a lens through which you look for grace. I hope you will carry it with you as you follow Jesus’ call in this new year: Come and see.

May it be so.

Amen.