"Come and See"

John 1: 29-42

Dr. Anthony Robinson
Guest Preacher

January 20, 2008

                 It is wonderful to be here with you at Government Street Presbyterian in Mobile, and take part in your Homecoming Weekend. Congratulations to you and thanks be to God for the wonderful work at Baytreat, which you celebrated yesterday. This is my first trip ever to Alabama, and I’m glad to be here because it’s been awfully cold and dark in Seattle, my home town. I have also been happy to be straightened out on the matter of Mardi Gras: that it started here in Mobile.

                 There is a connection between today’s gospel text from the Common Lectionary and your interest and commitment to evangelism and church growth. In this passage, from the Gospel of John, Jesus speaks the words that are in the Fourth Gospel the invitation to discipleship, “Come and see.” While in the other three gospels the words of invitation are “Follow me,” or “Follow thou me,” here in John the parallel is “Come and see.”

When people in a various churches ask me, “How do we invite people to our church?” or “How do we share our faith?” I often direct them to these words from the Gospel of John. Try saying, “Come and see.” I say “Listen, even God’s frozen chosen--Congregationalists like me, Presbyterians like you--can say, “Come and see.” It’s not that hard. We’re not asking you recite the Apostles Creed or say what Jesus means to you. “You don’t have a church home? I love my church, ‘Come and see.’” “Great things are happening at Government Street Presbyterian, ‘Come and see.’”

 But of course the words “Come and see” do also have a deeper meaning, and in exploring this text together this morning and bringing it to the challenges of evangelism and church growth, we need to go deeper with it.

The Gospel of John is in fact a feast of what the French call “the double entendre,” the statement that has multiple meanings. And this passage where John the Baptist directs some of his own disciples to Jesus and they bring others offers us several examples of words with multiple meanings.

When John directed two of his disciples to Jesus and they followed him, Jesus turned and asked them, “What are you looking for?” On one level, “What are you looking for?” is a simple, straightforward question. The John followers might have said, “Could you direct us to a good restaurant around here?” But of course that question has other, much deeper meanings. They are, you might say, the $64,000 dollar question that faces each and every human being: “What are you looking for?” “What does your heart long for and seek?” More than any of the other gospels, John’s answer to this question, never stated straight out, but laid between the lines and haunting every story, is that the fundamental human hunger is our hunger for God. “What are you looking for?”
The disciples of John answer oddly, which is often the way things go in the Fourth Gospel. They say, “Rabbi, teacher, where are you staying?” But that too is a statement that like a lake has a visible surface and a hidden depth. “Staying” is the word translated elsewhere as “abiding,” so important in John. “He who abides in me, the Father and I abide in him.” Where is Jesus staying? On one level at some house in town; on another, he abides in God.

Then the third statement of many meanings in this short passage, Jesus says to them, “Come and see.” A simple invitation. Come on over, we’ll have a glass of wine together--you aren’t Methodists are you?” On another level, “Come and see,” come and be delivered from the spiritual blindness that afflicts us all in this world. For John, coming to faith in Jesus is to have our eyes opened, our blindness healed, to gain our sight.

At the end of today’s lesson an interesting thing happens, and this is really where I want to focus with you for a few minutes. In the other gospel accounts of the call of the first disciples who is called first? Peter. Of course, Peter, number one Apostle, Rock upon which the church is founded. But here in John, Peter is not first, not at the head of the class. One of the two who has followed Jesus at John’s suggestion, is Andrew, Peter’s brother. After staying, abiding with Jesus, Andrew goes to tell his brother, Peter, “We have found the Messiah.”

Listen to the next verse. “He (that is Andrew) brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, “You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas.” Peter is not the main actor here. He is the recipient of first his brother’s action, but most of all, of Jesus’ look, his word, and his gift of a new name. It is moment of revelation, one that bears out what Jesus said later, “You did not choose me, but I chose you.”

What’s the point?  Before Peter is a giver, he is a receiver. Before Peter is a leader, he is a follower. Before Peter can share grace with others, he is a recipient of grace.

This is made even clearer in a later story in the Gospel of John, one you will remember. In John 13, at the Last Supper, Jesus took a towel and bowl and prepared to wash the feet of his disciples. Remember what happened when Jesus came to Peter towel in hand? Peter said, “No, no way are you going to wash my feet Lord!” Peter was, I’m guessing, fine with washing Jesus’ feet, probably with washing the feet of other of the disciples, but he had a hard time being on the receiving end.

What’s that about? You know we have often heard it said, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” What hasn’t so often been said is that giving is not only more blessed, it can also be easier than receiving. Givers are, among other things, in a position of power. To be on the receiving end, makes a person vulnerable.

Peter says to Jesus who knelt to wash his feet, “No, you shall never wash my feet.” To which Jesus answered, “If I do not wash you, you have no part in me.” So Peter relented, “Then Lord wash me all over.” As at the beginning of their relationship, in our lesson for today, so at the end, Peter is a recipient of grace before he is a giver of grace. “Come, we have found the Messiah. Jesus looked at him, ‘Simon, son of John, you shall be called Cephas.” The process of believing for Simon Peter began as it begins for us all, by hearing a word spoken. Before Peter is a dispenser, he is a recipient. And so too at the conclusion of his Jesus’ earthly ministry, “Unless I wash you--unless you are on the receiving end--you have no part in me.”

Sometimes when our church is long-established and we’ve been around a while, we neglect that experience of receiving grace, receiving God, of our dependence on God. We get busy doing church, going to meetings, attending to projects. But something is missing.

Eighteen years ago I became the Senior Minister of a large, downtown congregation in Seattle, Washington. It was the second oldest church in Seattle, a church with a long and proud history, as well as a continuing record of significant ministry and presence in Seattle and the region.

Shortly after I arrived on the scene, the Associate Minister who had served the church for forty years and was twenty years my elder, sat me down to tell me what was what. Among the things he said, perhaps knowing of my interest in the life and vitality of worship was, “When you have Communion, half the congregation doesn’t come.”

Interesting. Why’s that I wondered? What in the world does that mean? Like many mainline Protestant churches in the Reformed tradition, that congregation hardly went over board on the frequency of the sacrament. It was celebrated, on Sundays, only three times a year. The fourth time was on Maundy Thursday. Still, I wondered why did attendance drop by half on Communion Sundays?

The reasons for such things are complex of course, but here’s a hunch. This was a congregation of doers, of leaders, of movers and shakers--or at least that was our self-image. Another way to put it is that we were a congregation of “givers.” Leaders in mission giving, leaders in ministering to the needs of the least fortunate, advocates of justice on behalf of the marginalized. Great!

But we were perhaps less comfortable in the role of receiving. And what is the sacrament of Communion about if not receiving? “Take, eat, this is my Body, broken for you.” “Take this cup, drink of it all of you; the wine of the new covenant, my blood shed for you.” Our reaction to being fed, to being on the receiving end, may have been a lot like Peter’s reaction to being on the receiving end of a foot washing. “Hey I’m real comfortable giving, doing; washing your feet; not so comfortable receiving, not so comfortable having someone kneel at my feet.”

But here at the very beginning of the Gospel, what do we see? Peter as—not a giver—a receiver. Peter receiving a word from his brother. Peter being invited to come and see. And in Peter, the leader of the church, the first among equals of the Apostles, the church itself being reminded of something crucial, before we are those who share God’s grace and love with others, we are receivers.

Our doing, however, important, cannot be substituted for our receiving. If we would be engaged in the work of evangelism and inviting others to faith and to the community of faith, we too must first be receivers of God’s grace. You can’t give what you don’t have.

I learned this the hard way. Truth is I was a perfect match for that congregation in Seattle because everything in my background and training for ministry had prepared me also for giving, doing, leading and serving. I am an eldest son, which means, God help me, I arrived on the scene believing I was in charge. And my background in church and seminary had prepared me for leading, doing, giving. All good. Knew how to do that.

Five years into ministry, while serving a contentious, quarrelsome congregation, I hit a wall. It was named “depression.” It could as well have been called “a dark night of the soul,” for it surely was that. The next two years were some of the hardest and yet richest of my life. It was as if God were saying to me, before you would be a giver, you must be a receiver. “Don’t just do something; stand there.” Before you can be my servant, you must let God be God for you.

I remember, in particular, going on a three day retreat at a Spiritual Life Center, trying to get some breathing room, trying to figure out why I felt like a sailboat with sails flat and dragging. My spiritual director, Sr. Katherine sent me to pray John 15: 1 -8. You know that passage. “I am the vine, you are the branches; abide in me.” I had always heard those words as pleasant, pastoral, kind of like something you’d see on a Hallmark card. But this time, I am praying, meditating and I hear Jesus speak, and it’s not particularly pleasant or Hallmark-like at all. Jesus sounds irritated. He speaks bluntly. I am the vine; you are a branch--what part of this don’t you understand? I thought, “Jesus, is that you? Can that be you? I thought you were supposed to be ‘meek and mild?” You’re sounding kind of ‘mean and wild.’” It was the word to me, as to Peter, ministry is not done in your own strength and wisdom alone. It is done in the strength of the Lord.

Or to put it another way, “It’s not about you.”

If we are to engage in the practice of evangelism, of sharing the good news about God, we have to learn again, “It’s not about us,” it is about God, about who God is, about what God has done and is doing, about what God has promised.

Several years ago Desmond Tutu the famed Archbishop of South Africa said, “Christianity is not a religion of virtue; Christianity is a religion of grace, and there is a difference. A religion of virtue says, ‘If you are good, then God will love you.’ A religion of grace says, ‘God loves you, God loves you. So, then, be who you are, beloved sons and daughters of God.”

When we forget this, when we turn Christianity into a religion of virtue, then it is, oddly, too much about us: about what we are to do, to think, to feel. And I fear that for many of us in the world of mainline Protestantism, Christianity did morph into a religion of virtue, focused on our doing.

But no, Christianity is a religion of grace, first and last about what God has done and what God is doing. First of all about God who is faithful, merciful, persistent, surprising, relentless; about God who finds a way when we see no way. Celebrate this God, praise this God, focus on this God first, tell God’s story first and last, and the rest will fall into place.

At that church in Seattle, that proud, wonderful church, it had not been the practice to have an Ash Wednesday service. Ash Wednesday? Isn’t that a Catholic thing? Ashes on foreheads? That sounds kind of primitive and yucky! So people said.

But I talked the Worship Board into doing an Ash Wednesday service and plans were made. Among the plans was to ask a member of the Choir, who had just released a new CD of African-American spirituals, to follow the half-hour Ash Wednesday service with a forty-five minute concert. A little honey to help the medicine go down.

What we didn’t expect was that his new CD and the concert would receive full page coverage in the Arts Section of the Seattle paper on the day of the service. So when I got up to lead the Ash Wednesday service that evening, I looked out, not upon the 50 to 75 intrepid souls that I expected, but on 300 or more, most of whom I didn’t know from Adam.

I panicked. I thought, “Oh Lord, what will they think? Will they think we’ve done some kind of bait and switch? Concert? Ashes! What will this secular Seattle crowd make of Ash Wednesday with its long litany and confession of every sin known to man? I mean this city is like the center of the self-esteem movement. Calvin would not have been a great fit in Seattle!

I undertook to “explain” the service, to reassure people, no big thing. Still, when we got to the part of the service where it was time for the pastors to come down from the chancel and for those who wished to receive the anointing with ashes to come forward, I was anxious to say the least. Would anyone come forward? Imagine my astonishment when not one or several, but virtually all three hundred surged forward. Imagine my surprise when making the sign of the cross in ashes on people’s foreheads and uttering, “Turn away from your sins and believe the good news of the gospel,” I saw longing, openness, and tears.

Meanwhile, we had posted members of the church’s Music Committee at the doors in case more people coming for the concert arrived while the service was in progress. Outside in the large lounge, several hundred others waited. Some of them said to our man at the door, “What’s going on in there?” He answered, “Something with ashes, Ash Wednesday?” “What kind of church is this?” demanded the inquirers. “It’s our new minister,” said our man at the door. He’s introduced a lot of religious effects.” (I would have called them the sacraments and rituals of the church, but why be picky?) “When he first came,” said the guy, “people wanted to lynch him; but now they love it.”

Two nights later my wife and I were walking on Broadway in the Capitol Hill section of Seattle, an area that is known as the center of far out in an already liberal city. People with purple hair, leather, chains . . . That kind of thing. Suddenly out of the crowd swoops a young woman who stands in front of me and says, “You’re the minister at Plymouth right?” If my wife hadn’t been with me I would surely have lied.

“Yes, I am. What’s up?”

“I was at your church the other night. That thing you did with the ashes—awesome! The words you said, “Turn away from your sins, believe in the good news—perfect! I want to come back, I’ll be there on Sunday.” With that she disappeared into the crowd. With that I staggered on down the street, thinking to myself, “God, you are amazing.”

It’s not about us. It is about an amazing, surprising, persistent, majestic, merciful and gracious God. Before we can be givers and doers, we must always and also be receivers, recipients of the grace God. This is what we are most hunger for.

Thanks be to God for this inexpressible gift! Amen!

Benediction:

“May you love God so much that you love nothing else too much;

May you fear God enough that you need fear nothing else at all.”