Seeing Past the Bluster | 8/24/25
-
Philip invited Nathaniel to “come and see” even when Nathaniel was skeptical.
Who in your life might need that kind of gentle invitation to experience God’s love?
Nathaniel’s first response revealed a prejudice (“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”).
What assumptions or biases might God be calling you to let go of so you can see people more clearly?
Jesus affirmed Nathaniel’s integrity before anything else.
How can you use affirmations or encouragement to help others feel seen and valued this week?
Jesus may have seen Nathaniel’s deepest pain under the fig tree.
When have you felt seen by God in a moment of discouragement or brokenness?
Pastor Steve compared Catherine’s gift with animals to how we respond to people who “bark.”
How do you usually react when someone “barks” at you with negativity or skepticism? How could you practice responding differently?
Transcript:
Good morning again, friends. I am pleased to have this time with you as we keep looking at this idea in the month of August, of how we can see well, and how Jesus shows us the way for seeing well. It's one of the ways that we follow him. As the anthem mentioned today, we follow him into the world by seeing other people.
Well, and I've been so thankful for the opportunity to hear Anna share about Street Light. Not one, not two, but three times this morning. And it's been fantastic each time. And as I listen to her talk about the work that she does through Street Light, one of the things I notice is that she and the others who are a part of that organization are seeing kids well, in their hurt, and in their pain, and in their illnesses. And what a wonderful thing that we get to come alongside what they are doing through our prayers and through our generosity today, to help make that happen. So thank you for being a part of that.
This morning, we're going to take a look at another story from the Gospel of John. It fits with this theme of “Follow Me.” It's the section of the first chapter of John where Jesus is calling the disciples, and we pick up the story right after he has called Andrew and Peter. And this section of the chapter begins this way. Follow along as I read:
The next day, Jesus decided to go to Galilee. He found Philip and said to him, “Follow me.” Now Philip was from Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter. Philip found Nathaniel and said to him, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote—Jesus, son of Joseph from Nazareth.” Nathaniel said to him, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip said to him, “Come and see.”
When Jesus saw Nathaniel coming toward him, he said of him, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit.” Nathaniel asked him, “Where did you get to know me?” Jesus answered, “I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you.” Nathaniel replied, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God. You are the King of Israel.” Jesus answered, “Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than these.” And he said to him, “Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.”
This is the Word of God for the people of God.
And God's people say: Thanks be to God.
Would you pray with me?
Come, Holy Spirit, and breathe life into the words of this servant, that they might carry a word from you into our hearts and lives this morning. Amen.
Catherine Fluck Price has a way with animals. Many of you know that Catherine is my wife and, for many years, was my co-pastor. We served alongside each other, here and prior to here in another setting, for almost 30 years, until a year ago, when she was appointed to be the superintendent of the Northwest District of the United Methodist Church.
But one of the things—there are many reasons I love this woman—one of them, and one of the things that I've marveled at over the years, is her way with animals. I have watched as dogs and cats and horses and other creatures have just been drawn to her. She is like a magnet. Currently, our son Sid is visiting with us for a short period of time. His wife, Menandie, is in South Africa for a family wedding. And since Sid is here, it means that our grand dog, Ryder, is also here.
So here's a scene from a little bit earlier this week: There is Ryder, patiently—or maybe not so patiently—waiting at the door for Catherine, lovingly known by our grandchildren and grand dogs as “CeCe,” waiting for her to wake up. Our grandchild and our grand dogs love to see CeCe in the morning. She just has a way with animals, and I have observed her, particularly with dogs, over the years so much that I have dubbed her “the Dog Whisperer.”
She is fearless in approaching canines of all shapes and sizes, and I gave up years ago trying to warn her about the possible danger of approaching a dog that you don't know and that may be barking or snarling. I figured out long ago that she wasn't going to listen to me about that. And time and time again, I watched as these dogs would see her coming, and they would wag their tail, and they would lie down, and they would melt into the ground as they rolled over and exposed their bellies for her to scratch. She really is remarkable in this gift.
And what I've noticed is that for her, a bark is an invitation to engagement.
In our story this morning from Scripture, Philip has just experienced the best moment of his life. He has said yes to Jesus, who he has come to recognize as the one for whom he has been waiting his whole life. The Messiah has shown up, and Philip can't wait to tell somebody else. And so the first person that comes to mind for him is his friend Nathaniel, who—because of Nathaniel's deep faith and deep commitment to practicing his faith—he is confident will share in his enthusiasm and excitement about this great thing that has happened.
So John, in his Gospel, tells us that Philip went and found Nathaniel. He sought him out specifically so that he could tell him: “Nathaniel, you're not going to believe it. He's here—the Messiah, the one we've been waiting for, the one Moses spoke of, the one who is the extension of all that we have been waiting for. He is here. He has come from Nazareth.”
Now Philip was ready for somebody to share in his excitement. So the reaction that he gets from Nathaniel is not exactly what he was hoping for or expected. Nathaniel barks at him: “Seriously, Philip? Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” It's the kind of comment that is meant to shut a conversation down. Have you ever experienced that—somebody makes a comment just to squash things right where they are?
It's also the kind of comment that reveals a certain prejudice, a certain bias. Nathaniel, based on hearing from Philip where this person came from—“Nazareth”—can't possibly believe it could be who Philip says it is. You know, we do that too, don't we? Just think about how you might answer that question yourself: What group of people or what place might you say, “Can anything good come from…?” And it's a way for us to begin to recognize our own prejudices and biases, isn't it?
What I love about this moment in the story is that Philip doesn't shrink back from Nathaniel. He doesn't walk away. He doesn't just abandon the conversation. Instead, he leans in a little closer. He realizes, Philip does, that his friend Nathaniel's bark is worse than his bite, and he wants to give him a chance. And so he just invites him to see for himself.
Now who knows how long that conversation went or what else Philip shared, or what else Nathaniel may have said or asked. You know, the Gospels don't always give us the full picture. They leave room for us to imagine and fill in some of the details. But what we do know is that in the next scene of the story, Nathaniel has indeed accepted Philip's invitation, and he is on his way to see Jesus.
And when Jesus sees him coming, the first thing Jesus says is: “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit.” Now, there was probably nothing that Nathaniel would have cherished to have heard more from someone than that. He was deeply faithful, that he honored the practice of his faith and did it well. And so for this person to say that about him, and then to add in a compliment applauding him for his integrity, well, that just must have made Nathaniel stand a little taller, a little more boldly.
A compliment can go a long way, can’t it? When we recognize something good in another person and we affirm it about them, that can make a difference in an interaction that we have. I'm sure it had to make Nathaniel feel good at some level in that moment. But Nathaniel is also puzzled, because he doesn't know this Jesus. And how in the world does Jesus know him?
He is confused in that moment and wants to know: “How did you know? How do you know me?” So Jesus tells him: “I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you.” Now, I don't know about you, but I have come to realize recently that for years, when I have read this story and that verse in the story—and I've read it a whole lot of times, friends—when I have read that verse, I have mentally inserted an extra word into the sentence.
I have inserted the word “right” in front of the word “before.” So the way I hear the sentence is: “Nathaniel, I saw you under the fig tree right before Philip called you.”
But the sentence doesn't say that. I just assumed that. I assumed that Nathaniel was sitting under the fig tree, and Philip went to see him under the fig tree. And after their conversation, Nathaniel got up from under the fig tree and went over, and Jesus saw him coming. But that's an assumption on my part. The story doesn't say that.
So recently, with the help of some others, and with the help of a particular illustration, I've come to wonder: what if a better reading would be, “Nathaniel, I saw you under the fig tree way before Philip called you”?
What if Nathaniel had poured his whole being into something that would bring glory to God—an Israelite in whom there was no deceit, as Jesus called him, and was fully committed to serving God—and had this moment in his life where hopes and dreams were dashed, and he thought that God had abandoned him?
Now, how differently does that phrase that Jesus says as he comes sound? Because Jesus, in that moment when Nathaniel was broken and thought that surely God had abandoned him—Jesus saw him. He saw him in his pain.
This news is transformative because the realization of being known and loved by the one who has seen him all along opens his eyes. Surely, when Jesus said that “I saw you under the fig tree,” it brought back the memory of whatever that moment was under the fig tree. And knowing that Jesus saw him then causes Nathaniel to say: “Rabbi, you are the Son of God, the King of Israel.”
You know, we will never see people as well as Jesus sees people. And yet, as we listen to this story, and as we look at the way in which Jesus sees people in other places in the Gospels, one of the things we can learn is this: when we see other people well, we may open a window of grace for them. Our ability to see and to love and to care creates a space where others can come to see more clearly themselves.
After Nathaniel makes his confession, Jesus then says: “Just you wait, Nathaniel.” He doesn't ridicule Nathaniel for having doubted before. He doesn't condemn him. No. He just invites him to lean into greater expectations for what is going to come, because he has now said yes and chosen to follow.
What if we had that kind of mindset when it comes to our expectations, both for ourselves and for other people, when we talk about what a life following Christ can be like?
Recently—actually, for quite a while now—I've been wrestling with how to respond to a question that comes up quite frequently when I am meeting someone for the first time in a variety of different spaces, and we're making small talk, just getting to know one another at some basic level. You all know the question that often comes up in those settings: “So, what do you do?”
Now, when I answer that question—“Oh, well, I'm a pastor at a church here in the community”—sometimes I may get a “Oh wow.” Sometimes I see their whole countenance change. I see the face become drawn. I see the discounting. I see the pain. Because sometimes people have been done harm by the church, or by someone they thought represented the church or Christ.
So noticing that, sometimes in these conversations, once I say that, the conversation's done. I thought, how else could I respond to that question? So I'm working on some drafts, and I welcome your suggestions if you have any. But here's one that I've come up with that I thought I might try sometime.
“So, what do you do?”
“Well, I get to invite people into the very best version of themselves they can imagine.”
What if I tried that one out? At least it might pique some curiosity, right? And it helps the conversation go a little further. They might want to know a little more about what that means. People need to be seen where they are, and they need to be met by the love of God from people who want them to be able to experience that love for themselves.
And have you ever wondered, as you think about somebody in your life—maybe somebody who barks a lot, or somebody who just can be downright mean, or somebody who has experienced a lot of pain and a lot of challenge in their lives—have you ever wondered: I wonder what their life would look like if Christ was at the center?
You know, we don't have to have all the answers. We don't have to make it happen for somebody. And we can learn a lot from Jesus in this story today and in other stories about how we might approach people in a way that better sees them right where they are. We also can learn from Philip today, who doesn't shrink from the interaction with Nathaniel, who doesn't get angry in response to Nathaniel's sarcastic comment back to him, but who just says to him: “Come and see.”
Come and see. Because the discovery that we are known and loved by the one who has seen us well all along—that can change everything.
Jan Richardson, who grew up here at Trinity and is a well-known author as well as a clergywoman in our conference of the United Methodist Church, has written a blessing about being known. And, you know, as we think about how we might see others well, it's good to remember that we, too, are seen well and known by a God who meets us right where we are.
So hear this blessing, receive this blessing this morning, if you will:
First, we will need grace. Then we will need courage also. We will need some strength. We will need to die a little to what we have always thought, what we have allowed ourselves to see of ourselves, what we have built our beliefs upon. We will need this and more. Then we will need to let it all go, to leave room enough for the astonishment that will come, should we be given a glimpse of what the Holy One sees in seeing us, knows in knowing us: intricate and unhidden, no part of us foreign, no piece of us fashioned from other than love, desired, discerned, beheld entirely all of our days.
My friends—come and see.
Thanks be to God.