how do you know me

You know me, some of you, because we see each other every day. You know me, some of you, because someone introduced us. You know me, some of you, because you discovered me on your way to somewhere else.

When Nathanael asked Jesus, “How do you know me?” he wasn’t talking about simple introductions. That’s because Jesus, when he saw Nathanael approaching said to those standing around, “Here is a true Israelite, in whom there is nothing false.”

This would have been the last thing Nathanael would have expected. After all, his comment to his friend Philip about Jesus had been “can anything good come from Nazareth?”

With this kind of public greeting, Nathanael is stuck. Either Jesus is a sham, in which case you can’t trust what he says  (and Nathanael would desperately like these words to be true of him) or Jesus is completely accurate, in which case Philip was right and Nathanael completely wrong.

So Nathanael says, “how do you know me?”

Nathanael had a lot riding on this question. A true son of Israel, one who actually cared about Messiah, about following well.

And now, he’s risking everything with one question for this potential Messiah: how do you know me?

And Jesus tells him where he was sitting.

What a waste of insight! Think of  all the things Jesus could have said about Nathanael’s thoughts or sins or doubts or struggles or stupidity or mistreatment of people as a child. Jesus could have made him miserable.

That’s what we expect of God at times. Shaming us.

Instead, Jesus told him a simple concrete detail from the past 15 minutes.

And Nathanael knew he’d found the rabbi he wanted to follow.

A rabbi who knew everything and didn’t use it for guilt. Who more than dominance wanted relationship.

come and see

Philip had a bunch of information about Jesus.

He was the one that Moses wrote about. He’s one that the prophets wrote about. He’s from Nazareth. He’s the son of Joseph.

From one little conversation with Jesus, it seems, Philip knew a lot.

We guess this because right after Jesus invited Philip to follow him, Philip went to find his friend, Nathanael. And Philip told Nathanael everything he knew about Jesus. And Nathanael, responding to this sweeping review of Old Testament history, responded with “Nazareth! Can anything good come from Nazareth?”

Immense significance and Nathanael focuses on the competition between Purdue and IU, the tension between Michigan and Michigan State, the rivalry between Webster and Siren.

Nathanael was from somewhere other than Nazareth, some other little town in the region. He heard one little detail that he could pick up on, that he could pick on. And pick he did.

Nathanael was exactly like us. People try to show us things, offer hope, provide information about someone who can make a difference. And we point out where they came from, what school they didn’t graduate from, what their parents didn’t do, couldn’t accomplish.

Rather than dealing with the possibility that we could be wrong, we zero in one little thing that we think we know.

And Philip provides the only possible response. He doesn’t argue. He doesn’t debate football team statistics. He doesn’t question Nathanael’s intelligence or discernment or lack of sophisticated travel.

Philip tells Nathanael, “Come and see.”

Of course, Philip could say that with confidence. Because he knew Jesus.

We work hard to convince people about facts about Jesus. We work hard to convince ourselves. Philip was convinced enough that he didn’t have to argue with his friend. Instead, he simply said, “Come and see.”

And Nathanael did.

a teacher who recruits

College admissions offices spend enormous energy recruiting students. Most faculty members don’t. The faculty are part of the product that recruiters sell.

“If you come here, you will get to study with Dr. X. He’s the one who wrote that famous commentary on John. In fact, he was on the translation team.”

It’s possible that if you were to visit the campus, you would see Dr. X. He may even look at you, as part of a group, and say, “Come to our great school.” But he’s doing that primarily because the school has convinced him that he needs to help recruit.

In general, teachers teach. They don’t recruit.

That was true of rabbis, too. A student would ask to follow, would hope to be taken on.

And then there’s Jesus. He’s collected three followers: Andrew, Simon, and some player to be named later (probably John). He’s heading out of town. He goes looking for Philip, find him and says, “Follow me.” (John 1:43-44)

Philip was from the same town as Andrew and Simon. They may have known each other. But they don’t bring him to Jesus, Jesus goes to him.

Relationships with people matter. It’s one of the ways that Jesus uses to connect with people. But I’m pretty sure that sometimes Jesus walks up to someone and says quietly and directly, “The rest of your friends are in my school, learning to follow me. Why don’t you come along?”

We’re going to hear more from Philip as we read through John. In fact, if you want to hear Philip stories, this is the only book to read. It’s almost as if it was written by someone who knew him well, who noticed what he said, the way only a friend notices quiet people.

But Jesus recruited him. He matters.

Jesus sees what we may not

Andrew is a connector. He brings people to Jesus.

The first person we know of is his brother, Simon. Andrew brings Simon to Jesus.

Jesus notices Simon. He looks at him. He sees him.

(Just as a thought experiment,  imagine walking up to Jesus with your brother after listening to the excitement in your brother’s voice. You walk up, and he’s talking to someone else, and then he looks over and notices you. You realize that his eyes stop and look at you. The person who is, according to your brother, the Messiah and his eyes stop on you.

Chills.)

Jesus looks at Simon and tells him his name.

That is backwards. In normal situations, Andrew would have brought Simon and said, “Jesus, this is my brother Simon. Simon, this is Jesus.” They would have politely shaken hands and Jesus would have gone back to his other conversation.

Being Jesus, however, he’s the one who tells Simon who he is, who his dad is, and what his name will be.

What his name will be. Jesus has known him for, what, 10 seconds and already he’s changing Simon’s name.

That is, of course, what Jesus loves to do. He loves to say, “You think you know who you are. But I know who you really are, who you will be, who I created you to be. I know the name I use when I think of you.” Like the dad who calls his daughter “Beautiful” because that’s what he wants her to see, like the mother who speaking confidently about the stumbling piano scales because she hears the music on the other end, Jesus looks at Simon and says, “You are going to be as solid as a rock.”

When Jesus says, “I love you,” maybe he knows what he means.

the first thing he did

Andrew spent a day with Jesus.

He had been a follower of John (the baptizing one). He was looking for something spiritual. He was looking for someone that would be the one, the answer, the Messiah.

And after spending a day with Jesus, Andrew went looking for his brother and said, simply, “We have found the Messiah.”

His brother would have known about Andrew’s quest, about how he followed John, about what Andrew had been looking for. His brother would have known Andrew’s personality, how quick or slow he was to trust. Simon knew how to understand Andrew’s statement.

There are times that we say to people that we don’t know, “We have found the Messiah” and we can’t figure out why they aren’t as excited as we are.

It may be because they aren’t us, they don’t know us, they have no clue about the quest we have been on. They don’t know how much we have struggled over this. They don’t have any reason to be concerned about what is happening in our lives.

Andrew tells his brother Simon about his discovery and then takes Simon to Jesus. He doesn’t drag him. He doesn’t coerce him. He doesn’t trick him.

It may be reading into the text, but Simon likely goes with Andrew to see Jesus on the strength of Andrew and Simon’s relationship as brothers (at least) and perhaps because they shared the same quest.

When followers of Jesus invite other people to be followers of Jesus, we have to be aware of their story. And we have to let them be aware of ours.

To simply assume that they should understand the significance of Jesus without any relational context at all misses a simple truth: Simon, also known as Peter, started following Jesus through a relationship.