A young actor named Tom Key was playing the part of Jesus in the play Cotton Patch Gospel. The play, a romping, bluegrass musical which depicts the ministry of Jesus as if it had occurred in the cotton fields and Baptist churches of rural south Georgia, was in its final performance run. Key was feeling confident and even inventive with his lines. His spontaneous enthusiasm was contagious, and he had forged between himself and the audience.
During the scene depicting the Sermon on the Mount, Key, as Jesus, suddenly turned from the group on the stage toward the audience, pointed to the blank auditorium side wall, and said, “Look at the lilies in that field…” He stopped, almost as if he had forgotten the next line, peered around at the disciples, focused again on the audience, and repeated, “Look at the lilies in that field …” Once more, he stopped and seemed to be searching for the next words. The audience began to shift uncomfortably. His hand extended yet again to the blank wall, and this time, he spoke the words slowly and deliberately, “Look … at … the … lilies … in … that … field …” Now he turned to the disciples, shrugging his shoulders, and said, “I cannot get them to look.”
The room filled with laughter as it dawned on the audience that he really wanted the audience to look. And sure enough, when he gave one more try, “Look at the lilies in that field …” and every head in the audience turned toward the side wall.
I do not know whether John the Evangelist was present in the theater that night, but if not, he should have been. He spends his entire Gospel trying to get people to look, really to look at the life of Jesus.
Thus, the story of Nathanael and Philip is a story about looking at Jesus. Here is Nathanael, a rather ordinary young man, with all the hopes of any young man of that time. One day, his friend Philip approaches him excited. “We’ve found the Messiah, the one we always heard about and hoped for! He’s here among us at last!” Nathanael, cautious at first, puts down his work, his pulse quickens. Could it possibly be? After so many centuries, will this great thing happen in his generation? With his heart in his throat, he asks, “Who is he? Where did he come from?”
Then comes the reply, “He is Jesus of Nazareth. The son of Joseph.” Nathanael’s countenance fell. Why couldn’t it be somebody from Jerusalem, or some well known place? Why did it have to be Nazareth? And a son of a carpenter? Nathanael scowled for a moment, turned around, and began working on his fishing nets again. Philip waited. Finally, Nathanael looked up. “Jesus? From Nazareth? Can anything good come out of Nazareth?
Well, we couldn’t blame Nathanael. First of all, Nazareth is a very small town. No one is going to pay attention to anyone from there. How do you expect a Messiah from some place that is not even mentioned in the whole of the Torah and prophecy? Maybe Nathaniel thought that this Jesus, a son of a carpenter, had a dream and thought he had seen God.
Philip responds with three words which, for us, is the heart of evangelism: “Come and see.”
Sometimes people do not see the grace at work in the world through Christ because they will not come to the place where they can see. In Jesus, there are wonders beyond our imagining. To see the light, one must come and see.
We need to invite our friends, classmates, co-workers, and family members to come and join us in worship so they can see how God touches our lives as we sing together, pray together, and listen to God’s Word. We invite them to join us in our Church ministry so they can see the Christ as we work together. We invite them in Bible studies so they can see the Christ as we share our knowledge and experiences about the scriptures. We invite them to join in a prayer group so they can see the Christ who comes to us as we share our stories of answered prayers.
When we were distributing the relief goods for those affected by the flood, I could hear some of the recipients say they felt God close to them as they see others caring for them.
And many times when I help in these kinds of programs, I hear from the volunteers that sometimes they feel helpless, but that their experience strengthens their reliance upon the grace of Christ.
One time, one of the pastors of the churches which had a program helping the homeless was interviewed on a radio talk show. The interviewer was an opinionated Fundamentalist whose biases were quite strong. “Now just tell me,” he jeered at one point, “where is Jesus in all these?” For a moment, the pastor considered silently how to respond, then said calmly, “You just have to be there.”
Come and see. In some ways, this is all that can be said. Nathanael went, and Nathanael saw. Jesus gave him new eyes, and with them, he saw the true light. “Rabbi,” he exclaimed, “you are the Son of God!” To which Jesus replied, in effect, “Keep looking, Nathanael. There’s even more to see.”
If we do come with a willingness to see, then like Nathaniel, we will find a Christ who will open our blind eyes, clear the dimness of our vision, and show us more wonders of grace than we ever dreamed were there to see.
In a certain church, the officers were debating whether to join several other churches in their sponsorship of a local family health clinic. The clinic had been established for the families of those living near the church who cannot afford to go to a doctor. In the debate, one of the officers spoke forcefully against supporting the clinic because as he put it, “Most of the families being helped are just lazy, and we are just reinforcing their bad trait. They need to find work.” “But they are people,” said another in the group, “and they need medical care.”
Back and forth went the discussion, with much passion but without resolution. Taking a vote would have been bitterly divisive, so the matter was tabled for the next meeting.
The following day, the pastor of the church called the officer who had spoken in opposition, and made a date for lunch. During lunch, the pastor asked him if he would be willing to take a few minutes to visit the clinic in question. The man agreed, and the two of them found the waiting room at the clinic bustling with activity, full of pensive young mothers and squirming children. The pastor and the man sat down to observe for a few minutes.
A nurse appeared at the door and called one of the children, a little boy about four years old, who marched bravely toward the nurse, apprehensively rubbing his arm where he knew he would soon get an inoculation.
A few minutes later, the little boy reappeared at the door, now rubbing his pained arm in earnest, poking his lower lip forward, fighting the tears that were pushing out of his eyes. He searched the room for his mother, but it so happened that the mother had taken another child to the restroom, and was not to be found. The boy, finding what looked to him like a kind face, walked over to the officer of the church, crawled onto his lap, and rested his head on the man’s chest.
First hesitantly, then willingly and lovingly, the man wrapped his arms around this little boy in need of care. When he did so, he was amazed by his own spontaneous compassion.
Almost as amazed were the other officers of the church when he made the motion at the next meeting to sponsor the clinic.
“Come and see,” said Philip to Nathanael. And what did he see? Well, you just have to be there.
