Come and See: A Witness the World Can Trust

There are moments in life when recognition comes before understanding. Long before we can explain something, we know it. A newborn recognizes a parent’s voice not because it has been studied or analyzed, but because it has been heard again and again in the safety of relationship. Trust forms before comprehension. Recognition precedes articulation. Identity begins to take shape not through information, but through presence.

Scripture suggests that faith often works the same way. We like to imagine belief as the outcome of careful reasoning and settled certainty, but more often, faith begins with encounter. It begins when someone hears a voice they can trust or sees a life that rings true. Faith grows not simply from explanation, but from proximity.

This is the heart of the season of Epiphany. Epiphany is not about Jesus adjusting Himself to meet our expectations. It is about our eyes being opened to who He truly is. Biblical revelation is not a transfer of information. It is disclosure. God making Himself known in ways that can be recognized, trusted, and followed.

John 1:29–42 places us at one of the earliest moments of that disclosure.

A Witness Who Points Away from Himself

The scene is full of spiritual activity. John the Baptist is preaching repentance. People are responding. Baptisms are happening. Scripture is being taught. There is movement, urgency, and expectation. Spiritually speaking, it is a very active moment. And then, almost quietly, Jesus steps into the story.

When John sees Him, he declares, “Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” This is not a polite greeting or a vague spiritual statement. It is a declaration packed with meaning. The image of the Lamb gathers together generations of longing, sacrifice, deliverance, and hope. John is saying, this is the One God has been preparing us for all along.

What is striking is not only what John says, but what he does next. He does not center attention on himself. He does not cling to the platform he has built. He does not redirect the conversation back to his own ministry. He points away from himself and toward Jesus. In doing so, he creates space for others to encounter Christ directly.

This posture is foundational for Christian witness. Faithful testimony always involves humility. To point to Jesus is to resist the temptation to make the Gospel about ourselves, our influence, or our control. John understands his role clearly. He is not the light. He is a witness to the light.

As Frederick Dale Bruner insightfully puts it, “The Gospel of John is an extended invitation to come and meet Jesus for yourself.” John the Baptist embodies that invitation. He does not manage belief. He invites encounter. He names who Jesus is and then steps aside.

Faith Begins with Trust

The first disciples do not recognize Jesus on their own. They recognize Him because someone they trust names Him for who He is. John testifies, and Andrew listens. Recognition comes through relationship. Witness precedes belief.

This matters because we often assume that faith begins with certainty. We imagine that people believe once their questions are resolved and doubts eliminated. John’s Gospel suggests something far more human. Faith often begins with trust. Trust in a person. Trust in a witness. Trust in someone who says, “Pay attention. This matters.”

Most Christians can trace their faith to a relationship rather than an argument. A parent who lived their faith quietly. A friend whose life carried integrity. A pastor or mentor who embodied grace. Someone pointed and said, “Look at Jesus,” and over time, recognition took root.

This relational dynamic is especially important in our cultural moment. We live in a low-trust world. Confidence in institutions has eroded across nearly every sector of society, including the church. People are far less likely to believe something simply because an authority or organization asserts it. Words alone no longer persuade.

In this environment, credibility is earned through visibility and consistency. People are watching how Christians live, not just listening to what they say. They are asking whether the Gospel produces a way of life that is coherent, compassionate, and hopeful. In a skeptical age, the most compelling witness is not what we argue, but what people can see.

“What Are You Looking For?”

When the two disciples begin following Jesus, He turns and asks them a question that still confronts us today: “What are you looking for?” These are the first recorded words of Jesus in John’s Gospel, and they are deeply revealing. He does not begin with a command or a lecture. He does not test their knowledge or demand commitment. He asks about desire.

Jesus goes beneath belief and speaks to longing. He assumes that every human life is oriented toward something, whether we can name it or not. As James K. A. Smith reminds us, “Discipleship is more a matter of hungering and thirsting than of knowing and believing.” What we desire, over time, forms us. Our habits and practices reveal what we are really seeking.

The disciples do not offer a polished answer. They simply ask where Jesus is staying. It is a response marked by curiosity rather than certainty. And Jesus responds with one of the most gracious invitations in all of Scripture: “Come and you’ll see.”

Staying with Jesus Changes Everything

John tells us that they went and saw where Jesus was staying, and they remained with Him that day. No miracles are recorded. No sermons are preserved. No arguments are documented. Just time spent with Jesus. Presence. Proximity. Relationship.

This detail matters. Transformation does not always occur in moments of spectacle. Often, it happens through staying. Through shared time. Through ordinary attentiveness. In a culture obsessed with speed and productivity, Jesus offers something slower and deeper. He offers relationship.

Christian formation is not primarily about acquiring information. It is about learning a way of life through sustained attention to Christ. Time with Jesus shapes our loves before it sharpens our answers.

After spending time with Jesus, Andrew does something simple and profound. He finds his brother Simon and says, “We have found the Messiah.” Then he brings him to Jesus. Andrew does not argue. He does not explain everything. He shares what he has encountered and invites someone he loves to see for himself.

This is how the Kingdom spreads. One person. One encounter. One invitation. As Lesslie Newbigin writes, “The gospel is not simply a set of ideas to be believed, but a story to be lived and shared.” Followers of Jesus do not need all the answers. They only need to know who to bring people to.

A Faith the World Can See

If the church is to offer a credible witness in a skeptical age, our faith must be visible. Not performative, but tangible. Not perfect, but practiced. This visibility shows up in ordinary ways: in how we speak when tensions are high, in how we refuse to dehumanize those we disagree with, in how we tell the truth without cruelty, and in how we live with hope that is not shaken by every headline.

This kind of faithfulness rarely draws attention to itself. It quietly points beyond itself. As Tish Harrison Warren observes, “Christian faithfulness is not usually glamorous. It is practiced quietly, in ordinary moments, over time.” People may forget our words, but they will remember what they see when they spend time with us.

Questions for Reflection

1. Who has helped you recognize Jesus more clearly in your life, and how might God be inviting you to play that role for someone else?
2. If Jesus asked you today, “What are you looking for?” how would you honestly answer?
3. Who is one person you could invite to “come and see” rather than trying to convince, fix, or persuade?

Come and See

John tells us that the first disciples stayed with Jesus that day, and everything began to change. Recognition led to following. Following led to invitation. Invitation led to transformation.

Kingdom people do not simply believe in Jesus. They recognize Him, follow Him, and invite others to come and see. When we live this way, churches do not merely grow. Communities are transformed. Not through spectacle or control, but through a lived witness that makes the Gospel believable.

The invitation still stands.

Come and see.